Sowing the Wind

The Mississippi Constitutional Convention of 1890

Dorothy Overstreet Pratt

• Publisher: University Press of Mississippi
• Year: 2017
• ISBN:
  9781496815477
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: North American History
• Index: History

In 1890, Mississippi called a convention to rewrite its constitution. That convention became the singular event that marked the state's transition from the nineteenth century to the twentieth and set the path for the state for decades to come. The primary purpose of the convention was to disfranchise African American voters as well as some poor whites. The result was a document that transformed the state for the next century. In Sowing the Wind, Dorothy Overstreet Pratt traces the decision to call that convention, examines the delegates' decisions, and analyzes the impact of their new constitution.Pratt argues the constitution produced a new social structure, which pivoted the state's culture from a class-based system to one centered upon race. Though state leaders had not anticipated this change, they were savvy in their manipulation of the issues. The new constitution effectively filled the goal of disfranchisement. Moreover, unlike the constitutions of many other southern states, it held up against attack for over seventy years. It also hindered the state socially and economically well into the twentieth century.

CHAPTER 1

Introduction and Overview

This book examines the Mississippi constitutional convention of 1890, which became the crucible of change for the state that lasted well into the twentieth century. Historians have long debated the reasons behind the disfranchisement juggernaut of the turn of the last century, when states of the old Confederacy began to write constitutions to disfranchise and circumvent the Fifteenth Amendment. What is surprising is that examinations of the disfranchisement movement in the South have only considered the Mississippi convention and its subsequent constitution in conjunction with events in other southern states, for Mississippi was the first to convene a convention to disfranchise African Americans through novel means. Other states watched with interest but then took as much as five or more years to follow with their own conventions. Some states used a few of Mississippi’s ideas but also added other provisions, such as a grandfather clause. Unlike the situation in other states, Mississippi’s constitution successfully held up against federal inspection for nearly seventy-five years. What happened in Mississippi set the stage for the other states of the old Confederacy and therefore defined the history of the twentieth-century South, its race relations, economic stagnation, and the strictures of Jim Crow.

The deepest analysis of the Mississippi constitutional convention is a book written nearly seventy years ago, Albert Kirwan’s Revolt of the Rednecks. Kirwan examined the period in which the convention took place rather than focusing on the convention itself. For him, the narrative of the time incorporated the convention, rather than the convention defining the period.¹ Other historians have followed suit, though the more recent examinations have emphasized the disfranchisement process in the state rather than the consequences of it.²

This study argues that the decisions made by the delegates at the constitutional convention created a change in social structure that had profound effects on the state. Though race had long been part of the social fabric of the state and of the old South (through the Civil War and beyond), the fundamental organizational structure of the state depended on class. By the 1880s, however, lack of progress and modernization influences had begun to fray the edges of society. In fact, leading up to the convention, white voters were not unanimous in their support for Democrats; instead, they were split over issues of economics, status, and power in the state legislature. This had led to the rise of the Greenback Party, power struggles within the tiny Republican Party, and the emergence of the Agricultural Wheel.³ Therefore the constitutional convention met to fix not only the race issue and disfranchisement but also to negotiate the power structures (economic, political, and social) within the state.

The elites had long used the issue of race to control the entire social and economic network, particularly of those below them. In the history of this post-Reconstruction period, race played a part as a cohesive factor among white voters. Violence was the order of the day, often, but not exclusively, directed toward African Americans. Although it would be a mistake to downplay the importance of race, to understand the period one also must comprehend the social, economic, and educational strata of the state. Even among African Americans, class distinctions were real and easily identifiable, but as race became the divisive issue at the turn of the twentieth century, class issues were eventually eclipsed. Until the final collapse, the power struggles between the haves and have-nots of the state puzzled elite African Americans and created uncertainty as to where they fit into the system. As streetcars were segregated, elite African Americans fought to keep a first-class car; for many, this was an important issue, because it confirmed status in society.⁴ Compromises made at the convention, however, tilted the scale so that power slid away from the elites to a group that had no use for African Americans and did not even want them in the state. This change did not happen all at once, for at first a number of illiterate white voters were also disfranchised—just as the elites had planned. The shift away from the elites, however, concluded quickly, and so the structures of power changed and created a new political system.

Examination of southern class structure is not without precedent, even for Mississippi history. This division among white citizens is often defined as either white counties vs. black counties, paternalists vs. hard-liners, conservative vs. radical racists, or elites vs. dirt farmers (or other nomenclature, such as yeomen farmers).⁵ White counties are the ones specified as having a majority of white citizens, and black counties are the ones with a majority of African American citizens. The other words are easier to discern. For the most part, though, these are simply different terms applied to the same groups, albeit with some variation in emphasis. All these names show up in the following chapters and their use reflects the contextual emphasis, such as the use of the terms “white counties” and “black counties” when geography is an important factor. (A map of these counties, based on the census figures of 1890, is included in this book and can be used for reference.)

The terms themselves have real meaning. For instance, white elites in Mississippi were few. They cannot be defined as necessarily having the most money because the economic difficulties of Reconstruction shifted land ownership: some lost land, and a fair number became land poor. For the most part the elites resided in agricultural counties with deep, rich soil and where their African American workers, who were needed to till the soil and harvest the crops, vastly outnumbered them; they inhabited the black counties of the state. The elites were well-educated; they were also racist, though they seldom resorted to violence.⁶ They wanted to preserve the social order of the past with them at the top. Not by chance were these leaders often called the Bourbons, who, like the France of old, looked to the past and not to the future. In Mississippi, this terminology fit.

In contrast, dirt farmers lived in the white counties, where the soil was poorer and where many fewer African Americans resided. The dirt farmers wanted more voice in the state, had little use for education, and had even less sympathy for African Americans. Historians have dubbed them the radicals or the hard-line racists.⁷ Both groups were bigoted, but, unlike their experience with hard-line racists, African Americans did not face outright violence directly from the paternalists, which did make some difference to African Americans.

Historians have long argued that the planters in the black counties were wealthier than those in the white counties. For this information, they primarily rely on statements made in the papers and in legislative debates, for composite census numbers are misleading. This does not mean that black counties were richer than white ones. Black counties had—by definition—more African American inhabitants than whites, and since African Americans tended to be poorer, their presence skewed the statistics. In reality, the disparity of wealth was simply greater in the black counties, though even the “wealthy” planters struggled to get ahead.⁸

The story of the convention began with familiar history. Antebellum Mississippi had created a sharply defined class structure that ruled the state and expected deference. The disruption of the Civil War and Reconstruction shook the optimism of elites, but in 1874 they reclaimed nearly complete control of the state and promised a return to normalcy and the familiar. It was not to be. By 1890 the state had fallen into near anarchy, struggled with a dismal economy, and could easily be described as a failed state. The 1889 massacre of scores of African Americans in Leflore County scared a number of influential citizens who feared that white youth did not understand the parameters of “wise behavior.”⁹ Furthermore, a perceived threat by the Lodge Elections Bill galvanized state leaders into calling a convention to create a new constitution that would protect the state from federal oversight, grant some “peace” to the elites, and safeguard their meager fortunes.¹⁰ The old elites, represented by Senator Edward Walthall, Justice L.Q.C. Lamar, and former governor Robert Lowry, opposed calling a convention because they believed it safer to ignore the national spotlight on how the state handled the franchise. In addition, they had promised Congress, when the state was readmitted to the Union, that they would never change the state’s Reconstruction constitution’s franchise provisions. The forces for change won, indicating the shifting power structure in the state, and the new governor, John Marshall Stone, immediately called a convention.¹¹

The purpose of the convention, as widely admitted, was to disfranchise, but the debates at the convention reveal a startling division between the paternalistic elites and the dirt farmers of the state. Both were bigoted, and both were striving for power. Both sought to eke out a little livelihood in a struggling economy. Both shared a view of a limited future, for by that time most people in Mississippi did not share the boundless optimism endemic in other states; rather, they cynically believed that growth of all sorts would be limited. Their experience following the war was one of privation and struggle, and that is the prism through which they viewed the new world order. In order to be sure that they and their families were the ones who benefited in the economy, interest groups clamored to be the ones in control. This meant that the elites of the Delta and the old families of Natchez and Vicksburg were willing to negotiate governmental participation in exchange for economic (and tax) protection. Thus the power struggles of the constitutional convention were set. Though race issues were bluntly discussed, the real struggle in the convention was between the old hierarchy and those who would change it. Both factions were willing to use race as a wedge issue. The elites, however, saw race as a means to an end. Dirt farmers saw the issue of race as an end in itself.

The architect of the convention was neither a member of the elites nor of the dirt farmers; he was not from the rich Delta or the old cities of Vicksburg or Natchez; neither was he from the piney woods. Instead, the senior senator from Mississippi straddled both camps. James Z. George, who had served as a Confederate officer and a justice on the state supreme court before heading to the Senate, was known in Washington, DC, as the Old Commoner. He wore worn clothing and spit tobacco, but he was respected for his intelligence as a lawyer. Even as convention delegates debated the franchise and the tangential issues of woman suffrage, temperance, schooling, and levee control, the real issue of substance—the search for power—was all navigated by a powerful Senator George.¹²

The most puzzling aspect of the convention has long been the acquiescence of Isaiah Montgomery, the lone African American delegate, in the disfranchisement scheme. In fact, he served on the Committee on Franchise, Apportionment and Elections (hereinafter the Franchise Committee) and gave a remarkable speech in support of their efforts. Yet some of his behavior makes sense, if he is understood as the personification of the shift in the state from class to race. Montgomery was an elite and a member of the upper class. At one point he and his family were the richest African Americans in the country. Members of his family were trusted former slaves of the Davis family (Joseph and his younger brother, Jefferson) and often relied upon a network of support from the powerful they knew. He and his family were well-educated. He walked within the halls of power. Though the non-elites at the convention tried to not seat him at the convention, he was seated with the support of the powerful in the state. There he chided the delegates at the convention for their intemperate speech and their rigid racial constructs. Unfortunately, he did not appear to fully understand the seismic shift that was taking place; he believed the paternalists would maintain power and keep their side of the bargain. That faith was misplaced, because the balance of power was tilting to a new portion of the state—the white counties.

The process of creating a new constitution through compromise, which George and others hailed as successful, redefined the political and social structures on race. Not everyone saw the result as positive, however. The most controversial provision was the “Understanding Clause,” which was crafted by Senator George to provide a safety net for illiterate whites: the literacy provision required that any potential voter be able to read a section of the constitution; illiterates had the opportunity to have a provision read to them, which they then must interpret. Newspaper editors pointed to the likelihood of fraud in the administration of the clause and thus began to question the integrity of the convention’s proceedings; the press then instigated a campaign to ditch the new constitution and close the convention.¹³ Fearing a negative vote, the convention delegates simply promulgated the constitution rather than submit it for ratification. The elites believed they knew best and that others would follow their lead—which they did. By the end of the convention, state leaders believed that they had fixed most of the endemic problems in the state (including the franchise problems), but in reality, they had opened Pandora’s box. They had begun the tilt to a growing power of the white counties, which included a virulent racism, a paranoia over strong government and higher taxes, and a loathing of northern influence, such as in industrial development.

Once they promulgated the constitution, state Democratic leaders began to close ranks against criticism of its new organic law by outside influences. Like most dysfunctional families, they argued among themselves, but then closed ranks against outsiders. Though there were some opponents within the state, leaders only noticed two types of opposition. The first was an attack through the legislative branch, because the Lodge Elections Bill was still being debated in Washington, DC. African Americans from Mississippi provided copies of the newspaper of record (the Clarion-Ledger) as ammunition for the Republicans. Senator George defended the new constitution against attacks by Republicans on the floor of Congress.¹⁴ And in doing so, he was also helpful in defeating the Lodge Elections Bill.¹⁵ The second source of attack was through the courts on the basis of the provisions of the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments. Again, this opposition came through the federal judiciary, but the source of instigation was among African Americans within the state.¹⁶

Finally, Mississippi Democratic leaders got what they wanted—to be left alone and run the state the way they wanted. The elites envisioned something quite different from what actually happened, for over the next twenty years they lost power; by 1910 the power shift within the state to the non-elites was pretty much completed. Though there were exceptions, the white counties (those with a majority white population) controlled at least the House in the state legislature and usually the governor’s mansion.¹⁷ Throughout the early twentieth century, the elites (as well as those who counted their ancestry as belonging to that category) maintained a polite fiction that they were the leaders of the state. In reality, those who straddled the lines between the economic and social groups and who were able to gain support from across the polarized factions in the state were the ones who maintained control. And often that control came through race-baiting and fear-mongering. The mythology of the Lost Cause was just coming to flower in the last decade of the nineteenth century, when the experiences of the Civil War and Reconstruction would be recast to concentrate on the positive aspects of the war’s ideology (yet forgetting the negatives like slavery), all the while creating a past that never was. The effect was to make the bitter memories of the past more palatable to the elites, tie the dirt farmers to a common weal, and confirm African Americans as outsiders.

The simple fact that this is not a nice story makes its reading difficult at times. Heroes were few. Mississippi fell further behind in the national rankings of economic development, and the state government was barely functional. And although exceptions emerged, even the educational system of the state was abysmal. At every point when the state appeared to move ahead, the centrifugal forces of decay, violence, race-baiting, and grinding poverty appeared to shatter any hopes of building a future.¹⁸ Mississippi was slowly developing an African American community in which the upper 5 percent began to accumulate a bit of wealth; unfortunately, this improvement appears to have been founded on fragile foundations.¹⁹ Research provides some information for this nascent culture, but regrettably there are no extant black newspapers from the state in this period. One historian, Neill McMillen, has managed to create a narrative of African American social and culture history from Mississippi at this time, but much is missing.²⁰ For instance, we know almost nothing of one important African American politician of the period, James Hill.²¹ It is, however, possible to create a picture of another world in 1890 Mississippi, with its people firmly tied to the past yet believing they were planning for the future.

Overall, the narrative of the convention is a complex one and not simply a juggernaut of racial bigotry. Class issues played an important role in the debates and eventual portions of the constitution. Economic concerns pushed to the fore in a number of the arguments but also simmered underneath a number of other issues. Finally, beneath all of these concerns was a struggle for power in the state: economic, political, and social. By the end of the convention the elites thought they had held on to their control, but they were wrong. State leaders in 1890 were willing to sell their souls to garner a little peace and prosperity, but they never considered the effect of their decisions on the majority of the state (African Americans), nor did they realize the long-term consequences of their actions. They sowed the wind, but reaped the whirlwind.

CHAPTER 2

The Bourbon Elites

When the constitutional convention convened in Jackson on August 12, 1890, delegates gathered in the antebellum capitol.¹ It was hot, typical for a humid Mississippi summer, and it was the traditional time of agricultural break when duties in the fields were not pressing. Delegates assumed naively that the convention would be over before harvest. That was not to be. Before the end of the session, they knew each other well—perhaps too well. By September one member complained that he believed the convention had been called prematurely since little had been accomplished in twenty-two days. By October the convention was meeting in evening sessions as well as on Saturdays in an effort to finish.² The session did not end until November 1, long after harvest. Many of the men simply did not answer roll for days at a time, and there were calls in October to halt the convention and resume in January.³ Not only did the farmers need to attend to their crops, but the professionals, lawyers, and businessmen also had to attend to their businesses. Nevertheless, the delegates took no respite, and the convention ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Contents
• Prologue
• Chapter 1 Introduction and Overview
• Chapter 2 The Bourbon Elites
• Chapter 3 Opposition to the Bourbons
• Chapter 4 Calling the Convention
• Chapter 5 The Convention Debates the Franchise
• Chapter 6 The Convention Adopts the Understanding Clause
• Chapter 7 The Convention Considers Reform Agendas
• Chapter 8 The Convention Exposes Class Divisions
• Chapter 9 Defending the New Constitution in Congress
• Chapter 10 Defending the New Constitution in the Federal Courts
• Chapter 11 Conclusion
• Notes
• Bibliography
• Index