The cheering began anew, and when it subsided and quiet expectation took its place, Foraker began his remarks.2 Associating himself with the previous speakers by addressing them as “Brother Grimké and Brother Scott” (and thereby strengthening his bond with his audience), he marveled at their oratorical skills. “Few men in the Senate of the United States, now or ever…could speak in favorable comparison.” Keying off their eloquence, he said he would have only a few simple words about himself. But politician that he was, Foraker spoke longer to say thank you than anyone else that evening—easily twice as long as Archibald Grimké had in praising him.
Foraker got right to the question of why he took on Theodore Roosevelt. “Probably I ought to say in justice to myself that I never had a selfish thought in regard to the matter. It never once occurred to me that under any circumstances it would redound to my political benefit to champion that cause. I championed that cause because I could not help it.” Foraker made it clear that, even if what he did cost him his Senate seat, “I can truthfully say that I have not one particle of regret…. I go back to my home carrying with me my own self-respect.”
Before moving on to what he called the Brownsville “matter,” he yielded to an irresistible urge and returned to the rhetoric of the “bloody shirt” to compare what he did with Brownsville to his fighting in the Civil War. “I hated and detested slavery…. We were engaged in a great struggle, for a great principle, to emancipate a race.” Extending freedom for the slave to the rights of the Twenty-Fifth Infantry's soldiers as free men, he continued, “This is a land of the free…where no man can be convicted of a crime without first having had a chance to be heard in his own defense.”3 “It was our duty to ourselves as a great, strong and powerful nation to give every man a hearing, to deal fairly and squarely with every man, to see that justice was done to him, that he should be heard.”
Getting down to specifics, Foraker made it clear the soldiers could not possibly have turned in any of their number, since none was a shooter. Who would know the men better than their white officers, he asked, and did not they believe their troops to be innocent? To suggest a conspiracy by 167 men to keep the identity of the guilty men a secret was impossible for an “unbiased mind possessing a knowledge of human nature.” Raking up the testimony against the men, he again insisted eyewitnesses who said the shooters were black soldiers could not possibly have distinguished their race that dark, dark night. No army rifle had been fired in the affray, and none of the cartridges issued to the Black Battalion was unaccounted for. The government had ordered further army investigations, sent the Secret Service to Texas to nail down the soldiers’ guilt, even hired detectives to dig up whatever they could, but in the end it was inconclusive. What was worse, no investigator ever looked for others who could have done the deed. “I [remain] clearly convinced that not a man in that black battalion was guilty,” Foraker cried out, and the crowd roared back its agreement. Each of these points had been made before, yet it was important that they be stressed again.
Foraker went on to link Brownsville to “a growing prejudice against the black man all over the country” and a denial of “his rights under the Constitution and the laws of the land,” and added, “I want to see those rights protected and upheld.” The audience responded, according to the transcript of the evening, with “applause.”
Before ending, aware of the collateral bitterness many Negroes felt toward President Taft, who as Roosevelt's secretary of war formally issued the order of dismissal, Foraker graciously urged support for the man who bested him in the contest for White House. He admitted that after some of Taft's campaign speeches, he had shared Negroes’ concerns about him. “But these fears were dispelled when I read his inaugural…. I am rejoiced to know he intends to do what he can to correct the wrongs of the race and bring about some acceptable adjustments of differences consistently with the [Fourteenth and Fifteenth] Amendments.” There is no reference in the transcript to applause for this plea for patience. Perhaps it was the lingering resentment for Taft, maybe it was Foraker's reference to “the wrongs of the race” with no clear indication just which race he meant, or it might have been his implication that “adjustments of differences” should be only as consistent with the Constitution, with no moral component.
Foraker ended on a quiet, bittersweet note. “I will always cherish the recollections of this hour as among the most pleasing connected with my public service.” To “applause,” he took his seat.
William C. Beer, a white lawyer and seasoned behind-the-scenes player in the game of politics, was in the church that night.4 Not one to stand fast with the wrong man, especially one so recently discarded by his party and his state, Beer was so moved by what he saw and heard, the next day he sent a letter to Foraker, by force of habit addressed in error to what formerly was his Senate office in Washington. He called the speech “prophetic.”5
There was one last item on the evening's agenda. The three thousand people, “typical representatives of a race that has ever been loyal to America and American institutions,” came to their feet and sang “America” to honor the country that had dishonored their—and its own—soldiers. “Let freedom ring.”
After a reception hosted by Senator Foraker, the evening was over. It had been an important event for the black community. In below-freezing temperatures that lingered from the Inaugural Day blizzard, the people returned to their homes and the continuing struggle for equality. Foraker went back to his home in Cincinnati; he would never again hold elected office. At his home in Oyster Bay, ex-president Roosevelt went to sleep that night after an exhausting day of chopping trees behind the house, answering correspondence, and preparing for his upcoming big-game hunting trip to Africa, the ancestral home of the soldiers he had sent to their homes in America more than two years earlier.6 The men of the Black Battalion were scattered across the country, and it was now clear that except for only a handful, they were never to return to the army. The battle was over and lost. Roosevelt's discharge order stood. Just as important to him, Roosevelt had seen to it that Foraker was thrown out of public life. “I have gotten [one of] the men I went after, Foraker.”7
Oddly, not one speaker recalled that the evening was the anniversary of the US Supreme Court's infamous Dred Scott decision.8 A slave who had been taken to the free state of Minnesota, Scott sued in federal court for his freedom. On March 6, 1857, the Supreme Court ruled his claim could not even be considered because he was not a citizen. Dred Scott and all people of African ancestry, said America's highest court, even free blacks, could never become citizens of the United States. Fifty-two years later, blacks were allowed to be citizens, but not quite so. Not yet.
The home Foraker built in Washington when he was in the Senate. Among other flourishes it had a Louis XVI ballroom. Mrs. Foraker called it a “big yellow house.” Used with permission from the Historical Society of Washington, DC.
Harry C. Smith, editor of Cleveland's black newspaper. In the 1880s he believed Foraker had a greater concern for blacks than was commonly realized and urged Foraker to show it. Meanwhile, he promoted Foraker to his readers as a friend of the black race. Used with permission from the Ohio History Connection, call no. AL03899.
The Union recruits black soldiers for the Civil War. Note the reference to Port Hudson as an example of black valor. It was also where Sen. Francis E. Warren of Wyoming received his Medal of Honor. Used with permission from the Library Company of Philadelphia.
The Twenty-Fifth Infantry's Bicycle Corps training at Fort Missoula, Montana, in 1897. Lt. James A. Moss, “the Goat” in his West Point class, is its commanding officer. Used with permission from the Archives and Special Collections, Mansfield Library, University of Montana–Missoula.
Roosevelt, his Rough Riders, and Buffalo Soldiers of the Tenth Cavalry atop San Juan Heights after seizing them from the Spanish army. Roosevelt's triumph that day helped take him to the White House. Another photo of the moment with the black soldiers not shown is invariabl
y used to show Roosevelt's victory, thereby erasing the Buffalo Soldiers from the famous charge. Courtesy of the Theodore Roosevelt Collection, call no. R560.3.Scr7-037, Houghton Library, Harvard University.
Brownsville residents armed and ready to defend their town from the soldiers. Note at least three of the rifles appear to be single shot, hardly a match for the soldiers’ semiautomatic rifles. Courtesy of the Texas State Library & Archives Commission.
Senator Charles A. Culberson of Texas. He warned Secretary Taft not to send black soldiers to Brownsville, and he demanded their removal as soon as he heard about the shooting. Courtesy of the Theodore Roosevelt Collection, call no. Roosevelt R570.P93p-085, Houghton Library, Harvard University.
Texans said Texas Ranger William “Bill” McDonald would charge hell with one bucket of water. Ignoring being told he had no authority to investigate, he charged into Brownsville anyway to prove the soldiers’ guilt. Before long, even Brownsvillites tired of him, and he left having proved nothing. Courtesy of the Texas State Library & Archives Commission.
Booker T. Washington with Robert C. Ogden, Secretary of War Taft, and steel magnate turned philanthropist Andrew Carnegie in front of the Carnegie Library built with Carnegie money and Tuskegee students’ skills and labor. “The Wizard” was adept at gaining the confidence of important people and financial assistance for Tuskegee from men like Carnegie. Photo by Frances Benjamin Johnston. From the Library of Congress.
Cartoon in Harpers Weekly condemning the discharge of Mingo Sanders. The caption characterizes the discharge as Sanders and most people saw it, and the proud old soldier hangs his head in undeserved disgrace. Image from Harper's Weekly, January 12, 1907, p.39. Used with permission from HarpWeek, LLC.
Roosevelt's wire to Secretary of War Taft from Porto Rico, where Roosevelt stopped on his way back from Panama. His anger at Taft's suspension of the discharges while he was away from Washington almost bleeds through the paper. Two hours later, Roosevelt, wanting to make sure the message got through, sent a second and calmer—but equally direct—telegram to Taft. He did not know that Taft, on his own, already had rescinded the suspension order after a meeting with William Loeb and General Ainsworth. Courtesy of Ruth Mildred “Millie” Duff and John Duff.
Statue of Cornelia on the grounds of the Ohio Statehouse in Columbus. Beneath her are four of Ohio's “jewels.” Photo published by the Detroit Publishing Company. From the Library of Congress.
President Roosevelt's cabinet. Secretary of War Taft is third from the left and Secretary of the Interior Hitchcock is at the extreme right. Courtesy of the Theodore Roosevelt Collection, call no. 560.52 1906-071, Houghton Library, Harvard University.
Secretary of the Interior Ethan Allen Hitchcock. He would be forced out of the cabinet, and his investigations of Senator Warren's alleged land fraud would be ignored to gain Warren's help in the Military Affairs Committee. Courtesy of the Theodore Roosevelt Collection, call no. Roosevelt R570.P93p-010, Houghton Library, Harvard University.
Senator John Spooner of Wisconsin. He disagreed with Roosevelt's discharge of the soldiers but went along and defended him. He spoke for black rights but more as a weapon against Democrats, who cared not at all about them. Courtesy of the Theodore Roosevelt Collection, call no. Roosevelt R570.P93p-097, Houghton Library, Harvard University.
Senator Benjamin “Pitchfork Ben” Tillman of South Carolina, one of the most vicious and outspoken racists ever to serve in the Senate. He hated President Roosevelt even more than he hated blacks and sided with the Black Battalion just to pick a fight with Roosevelt. His face, distorted by a missing eye, reflected his distorted sense of humanity. Just before Roosevelt left office, Tillman's racism trumped his feelings about Roosevelt and he switched sides and voted against the Court of Inquiry's consideration of reenlisting discharged soldiers. Photo published by Bain News Service, 1915. From the Library of Congress.
Cartoon from the Gridiron Club banquet program in January 1907, when President Roosevelt had to be physically restrained from leaping from his seat while Foraker was speaking. The cartoon and its poem suggests Foraker defended the soldiers to secure the Negro vote and enhance his White House hopes in 1908.
Senator Francis E. Warren was called “the Greatest Shepherd since Abraham” for how surely he protected his state's sheep industry (and his own herds) by seeing to it that wool tariffs remained high. His deal with President Roosevelt to avoid charges that he had fraudulently acquired government land in Wyoming helped doom the soldiers in the Senate Military Affairs Committee he chaired, and it caused Roosevelt to ask for the resignation of the man investigating him, Interior Secretary Ethan Allen Hitchcock. Image from the Francis E. Warren Collection, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
President Roosevelt riding to Senator Warren's ranch in Cheyenne over land Warren later would be accused by Roosevelt's Interior Department of illegally fencing. Image from the Francis E. Warren Collection, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Senator Francis E. Warren of Wyoming presents a gift of spurs to President Roosevelt on Roosevelt's visit to Cheyenne. Courtesy of the Theodore Roosevelt Collection, call no. 560.51 1903-149, Houghton Library, Harvard University.
Pennsylvania's senator and “boss” Boies Penrose. Roosevelt's classmate, the two men disliked each other, but after Roosevelt came to his aid in the 1906 off-year elections, Penrose acted as his cat's paw in Brownsville. A very large man, Penrose had oversized furniture made to accommodate him and to intimidate visitors to his office. From Wikimedia Commons.
Buffalo Soldier monument at Warren Air Force Base in Cheyenne. The base was originally known as Fort Russell before being renamed Fort Warren to honor Francis E. Warren, the Wyoming senator who chaired the Senate Military Affairs Committee when it investigated the shooting. The committee's majority, including Warren, concluded that the soldiers took part in the shooting and the “conspiracy of silence” that followed. Photo by Airman 1st Class Daryl Knee. Courtesy of the 90th Missile Wing Public Affairs, Warren Air Force Base, Wyoming.
Cartoon showing puny Uncle Sam requiring help from J. P. Morgan to get through economic storms. At the 1907 Gridiron banquet, President Roosevelt shook his fist at Morgan, also a guest that evening. By the end of the year, he quietly accepted Morgan's help to end the Panic of 1907. Puck Magazine, April 26, 1907. Painting by Udo J. Keppler. From the Library of Congress.
Senator Joseph B. Foraker of Ohio. He looked every bit the senator. Foraker was the Black Battalion's most faithful and forceful advocate, and it cost him his Senate seat. Courtesy of the Theodore Roosevelt Collection, call no. Roosevelt R570.P93p-071, Houghton Library, Harvard University.
Black boxer Jack Johnson glaring down at the pummeled Jim Jeffries, the first “great white hope” seeking to take the world heavyweight championship away from Johnson. Johnson won the crown in 1908 during the Brownsville Incident. Used with permission from the Nevada Historical Society.
Senator Shelby Cullom from Illinois. He openly acknowledged that every senator knew Roosevelt was wrong. Courtesy of the Theodore Roosevelt Collection, call no. Roosevelt R570.P93p-030, Houghton Library, Harvard University.
Dorsie Willis, the only surviving soldier from the Black Battalion, in 1972, when he learned that the discharges of members of the Black Battalion would be changed to honorable. His was the only one not posthumously awarded. He was shining shoes in a Minnesota barbershop. Willis also received $25,000. Photo by Boyd Hagen.
“How many black people, with the memory of Brownsville, could support such a man passes our comprehension.”
W. E. B. Du Bois, reacting to Roosevelt
becoming a presidential nominee for the Progressive
Party in 1912, in David L. Lewis, W. E. B. Du Bois:
Biography of a Race, 1868–1919
THE ARMY ABANDONED FORT Brown shortly after the Black Battalion left, as it had been thinking of doing anyway.1 Much of the land it sat on is now the campus of the University of Texas at Browns
ville, and part of the rest is still a government reservation and used by civilian agencies. You can stand today where Elizabeth Street dead-ended at the Fort Brown gate, which is gone of course, and walk southeast (or south, as they say in Brownsville) along what is East University Boulevard. Continuing through what had been the gap between the Company B and Company D barracks and onto what was the post's parade ground, in a few minutes you come to where Captain and Mrs. Samuel Lyon's quarters were on a horseshoe body of water then called the Lagoon but now renamed the Fort Brown Resaca. Looking out their window, they would see the other side of the Lagoon and just beyond that the Rio Grande and Mexico. Today a bridge allows you to keep walking over the Resaca until, about half a mile from where you started, you come to Ringgold Road, not yet built in 1906. Walking a bit along Ringgold Road you come to where the National Cemetery was. Like Fort Brown, it too is gone. Those interred there (including Major Jacob Brown) were moved to Alexandria National Cemetery in Pinesville, Louisiana, in 1909. Where the cemetery was is now a condominium resort development called Fort Brown Condo Shares, described as “situated on the grounds of the historic battlefield of the Mexican-American War.”2 And, of course, on what was Fort Brown and the site of the Brownsville Incident, though the condominium does not mention that.
THE ARMY REBUILT THE Black Battalion with new recruits and transferred noncommissioned officers. In 1907, while the Brownsville investigations were taking place, the entire Twenty-Fifth Infantry returned to the Philippines, mostly for garrison duty but with some policing every now and then. In 1909 it returned to the continental United States and the Pacific Northwest for three years, then went to Hawaii, where it stayed through World War I. Some of its men received reassignments to Europe where, mainly with the French army, they saw action. In World War II the regiment arrived in the Pacific in 1944 and served mainly as a logistical unit. After the war it came home, and in early 1946 the Twenty-Fifth Infantry was deactivated.3 It no longer exists.
Taking on Theodore Roosevelt Page 42