Black reporters also had to deal with abuses from Strider’s deputies. William Franklin, photographer for the St. Louis Argus, found that from the beginning of the trial, Deputy Ben Selby had taken a disliking to him and singled out Franklin for special frisking every time Franklin reentered the courtroom. Franklin wanted to document Selby’s antics and asked Ernest Withers to snap a photo as Selby patted him down. When Withers told Selby that the flash failed and asked if he could take another, Selby replied, “Oh, that’s awright. Go on and make another. Take it on up to New York and let them see how we treat you niggers down here.”159
Even though the black press had been given a larger table Tuesday, they were still relegated to a distant corner and could not always hear the testimony. Steve Duncan of the Argus noted wryly, “In keeping with the tradition of this state, Negro newsmen were afforded separate and unequal facilities.” They did enjoy the assistance of sixty-six-year-old Anderson Scales, a black employee of the courthouse, who regularly brought them water, and nine-year-old Tommy Wiggins, who brought Cokes to the table and ran stories to the Western Union office and other errands.160
If Strider and his deputies created difficulties for the black reporters, internal problems among the white reporters meant that they also experienced their fair share of tension. Reporters were still anxious Wednesday night over the revelations concerning new witnesses from Sunflower County who were set to testify the following day. Several details of the story appeared on Wednesday in an article by Clark Porteous in the Memphis Press-Scimitar, which only whetted the journalists’ appetites for more. Most of them began following special tips and went out on their own to chase down more information. One said the competition became so great that reporters became suspicious of each other. One newsman leaving the Alcazar Hotel only to buy a pack of cigarettes caused such a commotion that the office switchboard was soon overloaded with curious queries from his colleagues.161 Porteous tried to scoop them all when he reported that on Wednesday night, investigator Gwin Cole had located the truck believed to have been involved in the murder, but was still trying to determine its ownership.162 Because Cole appears to have said nothing more after that leak, he may have discovered during further investigation that this was not the right truck after all.
Exacerbating the tensions among locals was the longing for normalcy to return to Sumner, and perhaps an underlying fear that it never would. The oppressive heat helped bring it all to a boil. On the first day of the trial, Murray Kempton strolled by J. W. Milam as he balanced a child on his knee, and casually commented, “Pretty hot today, huh, J. W.?”
Milam, sweating profusely, looked up, and stared at Kempton briefly. Milam’s answer certainly had a number of factors as its basis, for weeks of incarceration, the gaze of outsiders, and nationwide scorn had slowly taken its toll.
“Hot enough to make a man feel mean,” he barked back.163
It was clear by the end of Wednesday that Milam was hardly alone in his sentiments.
In this atmosphere, the trial entered its fourth day on Thursday.
6
Tallahatchie Trial, Part 2
Anyone hopeful that a Mississippi jury might convict J. W. Milam and Roy Bryant of murder could cling to precedent set during three trials held five and a half years earlier in Attala County, 100 miles southeast of Sumner. On December 22, 1949, a white ex-convict, Leon Turner, along with brothers Malcolm and Windol Whitt, broke into the home of a black woman, Sally Ward, and attempted to rape her. That same night, they entered the home of one of Turner’s gambling friends, Thomas Harris, also black, and threatened to rape his wife, Mary Ella, and his fifteen-year-old stepdaughter, Verlene Thurman. Although the men were arrested that night and jailed in Kosciusko, they escaped eight days later by digging a hole through a wall, using only a spoon, a can opener, and a metal pipe.1
At 1:00 A.M. on January 9, 1950, the fugitives broke into the Harris home once again, this time in a drunken rage to exact revenge upon Thomas, whom they erroneously believed had turned them in two and a half weeks earlier following their attempted rape spree. Gunshots followed, which injured Verlene Thurman and paralyzed Thomas Harris from the chest down. Tragically, seven-year-old Mary Burnside, twelve-year-old Frankie “Sonny Man” Thurman, and four-year-old Nell Harris were killed. Their mother, Mary Ella, managed to escape with her week-old infant son. Malcolm Whitt turned himself in later that day, but Turner and Windol Whitt remained at large. Two days later, on Wednesday, January 11, a posse using bloodhounds found the men in a corncrib, arrested them, and took them to the jail in Jackson. The community was shocked and utterly outraged over the murders.2
Trials for Turner and the Whitt brothers began at the courthouse in Kosciusko in March. As with the Till case five years later, these trials also attracted national media and were reported in Time and Life magazines. Windol Whitt went on trial first, was found guilty of murder, and was sentenced to life in prison on March 16. A week later, Leon Turner, ringleader of the trio, was similarly convicted, but was given three life sentences and denied any possibility of parole. There was drama at the trial when Thomas Harris testified against the killers from a hospital bed that was transported into the courtroom. His wife, Mary Ella, testified from the stand. On Monday, April 3, Malcolm Whitt pleaded guilty to manslaughter and was given ten years in the state penitentiary. In a final, tragic turn of events, Thomas Harris died of his injuries just one week after the third trial.3
Circuit Judge J. P. Coleman, who was elected Mississippi governor just four days before the Emmett Till murder, presided over the three trials in Kosciusko and passed down the sentences.4 It was governor-elect Coleman, as state attorney general five years later, who appointed Robert Smith to aid District Attorney Gerald Chatham in the prosecution of Milam and Bryant in Sumner.
Although the Kosciusko convictions were impressive, this marked the first time that white men had ever been tried for killing a black person in Attala County. Citizens were angered that Turner had not been sentenced to death.5 But one would have to look back in time sixty-five years to find a case where a white man was given the death penalty for killing an African American anywhere in the state of Mississippi. In 1890, M. J. Cheatham was hanged in Grenada for murdering Jim Tillman, a black man who had testified against Cheatham in a gambling trial.6 A few Mississippi newspapers publicized these cases while the Sumner jury listened to evidence against Milam and Bryant. One intended message was to give evidence that Mississippians believed in justice in white-on-black crime. Yet an unintended consequence of that publicity served to alert readers to just how infrequent convictions actually were.
On Thursday, September 22, the Sumner courtroom filled to capacity by 8:00 A.M. Spectators passed the time until court resumed by reading newspapers or talking about the trial, which was about to begin its second day of testimony. At 8:30, J. W. Milam and Roy Bryant, who both appeared unshaven, entered the courtroom. A few minutes later Judge Swango appeared and took his seat. The prosecuting attorneys arrived, entering the room in company with the court reporter.7
Porters came to deliver mail addressed to the various newsmen present. The defendants received some letters, mainly from Chicago, criticizing the trial and demanding that they be given the death penalty. Photographers snapped several pictures of the brothers, who willingly posed with their threatening letters. There was other business to attend to before the trial resumed. The cotton gin fan, which had been introduced as evidence the day before, was still on the floor; Sheriff Strider asked a deputy to move it out of the room.8
Court was scheduled to start at 9:00 A.M., but when the hour came, Judge Swango failed to rap his gavel. For the next fifty-three minutes, attorneys and reporters gathered near his bench, where they learned that the prosecution team, now gone from the room, was interviewing the new witnesses who were set to testify that day. For those reporters with afternoon deadlines, this delay was unnerving. “I feel I should be talking to someone, not just sitting here,” said one frustrated Chic
ago newsman.9
Finally, at 9:53 A.M., Judge Swango called the courtroom to order, and spectators took their seats. The first witness was fifty-two-year-old Chester F. Nelson, mayor of nearby Tutwiler and manager of two funeral homes there. Nelson, a former football and baseball player for Millsaps College, spent only a few minutes on the stand, testifying that his mortuary received a body from Chester Miller’s funeral home, that an attendant prepared it as best he could, and that they shipped it on to Chicago. Swango overruled defense attorney Breland’s objection when Nelson said he learned the body was of a person named Emmett Till. Under cross-examination, however, Nelson clarified that he did not personally know its identity.10
The state called its next witness at 10:00 A.M. The testimony of Mamie Bradley, mother of Emmett Till, was one of the most anticipated of the trial, and the courtroom fell silent as she was called to the stand. After walking through the center aisle to the front of the room, she looked around for an opening at the railing. She stood puzzled for a few moments, unsure what to do. “Step over to your right and you will be able to get through,” Swango instructed her, after which she made her way to the stand and took her seat. Mamie, the only northerner to testify at the trial, clearly stood out. As a black woman, she was even more of an anomaly, not at all representative of the field hands and domestic workers familiar to most people in the rural Delta. Dan Wakefield, reporter for the Nation, noted that “she didn’t fit the minstrel-show stereotype that most of Mississippi’s white folks cherish.” Mamie wore a gray flowered dress, a brown bolero jacket, a black hat, tortoiseshell glasses, and a gold watch.11
From the prosecution’s standpoint, Mamie Bradley needed to convince the jury that the body she identified in Chicago was her son, and to directly link him to the ring found on that body. During questioning by Robert Smith, she affirmed both facts early in her testimony. Smith addressed his witness as “Mamie” rather than “Mrs. Bradley,” something they both knew was a necessity for the sake of the jury.12 Mississippi custom reserved the salutation of “Mr.” or “Mrs.” for whites only. Gerald Chatham received reminders of that in at least two letters shortly before the trial. “Since you are so interested in Mamie Bradley’s safety and winning her your deepest sympathy—and referring to her as Mrs. Mamie Bradley—why not take her home with you and intertain [sic] her?” one person asked. Two other Mississippians also advised: “Your statement in [the] Jackson Daily [News] and Commercial Appeal in Regard to invitation to Mrs. Mamie Bradley of Chicago, as you address Her, may we suggest and urge that you comfort her in your home as it appears you are of the same caliber.”13 Considering the prevailing attitude, there was little reason to risk upsetting the jury by breaking from tradition.
Mamie told Smith that after the body arrived at the Rayner funeral home in Chicago, she examined it twice that day—once while it was still in the casket, and again after it was removed.
“I positively identified the body in the casket and later on when it was on the slab as being that of my son, Emmett Louis Till,” she affirmed.
The ring had been sent from overseas with the rest of her husband’s personal effects. She described it from memory as being “white, or it looked like some kind of white metal.” She testified that Emmett took this ring with him to Mississippi, and that it fit more snuggly now that he was older. Smith handed her the ring and asked if it was once among her husband’s belongings. She answered affirmatively.
“And you definitely say that was the ring that he [Emmett] left with?”
“Yes sir,” Mamie replied.14
Smith, using sensitivity, then showed Mamie the Strickland photos taken after the corpse arrived in Greenwood. When she viewed the body in Chicago, it was a shocking, gruesome sight, yet it had been cleaned and, to the extent possible, embalmed. The Strickland photos were even more horrifying, having been taken only hours after the discovery.
“And I hand you that picture and ask you if that is a picture of your son, Emmett Till.”
“Yes, Sir,” replied Bradley.
The photos were then passed to the jury at the request of the defense and entered as exhibits 1 and 2 of Strickland’s testimony from the day before.15
Having just seen for the first time the condition of her son after he was retrieved from the river, Mamie lowered her head, lost her composure, began to weep, and, for a few moments, rocked back and forth. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she removed her glasses and wiped her eyes.16
Cross-examination began next. J. J. Breland asked permission to remain seated as he interrogated the witness with a long, odd series of questions. Later, he rose and approached the stand.
First, he probed at length about Mamie’s birth, her move to Argo, Illinois, as a child, and even her mother’s birthplace. Swango reined him in after Chatham objected, yet he continued the same line of questioning. After further objections, he switched gears and asked about Emmett, the teen’s interest in going to Mississippi that summer, and if he had ever been in trouble in Chicago.17
Breland also asked several questions about the life insurance Mamie had taken out on her son. How large were the policies? How long had she had them? What insurance companies were they with? Who were the beneficiaries? Had she tried to collect the money yet? Swango allowed most of the questions to stand, despite objections from the prosecution. Mamie said she had two policies on her son, totaling around $400. She was the beneficiary of one, her mother the other. She had not tried to collect on them yet because she was still awaiting a death certificate. Stories had been floating around the Delta that had the policies at anywhere from $10,000 to $15,000. Even though the state had objected to Breland’s questions, the unfounded stories were at least debunked.18
Breland then queried Mamie about her newspaper subscriptions, and, more specifically, he wanted to know if she read the Chicago Defender, a popular black weekly. At that point, Swango excused the jury. He allowed the attorney to continue, however, because Breland insisted the question was crucial in order to introduce some exhibits for Mamie to identify.19
Continuing on, Mamie explained that she did not subscribe to the Defender, but she bought it regularly and read it. Breland showed her the September 17 edition, which carried a photo of her son. She had not seen that issue yet, she said, but recognized the photo as one she had released to the press herself. Breland handed her a copy of the Memphis Press-Scimitar, which had run the same photo. Mamie said that her father had copies of the photos with him in the witness room. Learning that, Breland asked that John Carthan be brought to the courtroom. Shortly thereafter, Mamie was handed an envelope with three pictures of Emmett, which she removed and handed to Breland. She testified that these photos, one of which was of her and Emmett together, were taken two days after Christmas, 1954. Breland handed back the photos, along with one of Emmett in his casket, also featured in the Defender. Mamie confirmed that they were all of her son.20
Before the jury returned to the courtroom, Swango ruled for competency of the photographs because Mamie testified to the identity in each. They could be admitted as evidence, he said, but the Defender photo would need to be clipped, with no reference to its source. Furthermore, he would not allow any questions to Mamie regarding the papers she read or subscribed to. “These pictures are for the benefit of the jury, so that they may see a likeness of Emmett Till during this lifetime, and also a likeness of his body, as the witness stated, as she saw it in Chicago after the body was returned to Chicago.”21
Breland also wanted to deal with another matter while the jury was still out of the room because he assumed the prosecution would raise an objection. He read a quote, attributed to Mamie, in which she told Emmett how to act while in Mississippi, even advising her son that he should “kneel in the street and beg forgiveness if he ever insulted a white man or white woman.” Mamie explained that she had indeed instructed him several times before he left about how to act while in the South and even cautioned him not to get in any fights with white boys. She did not mention it
on the stand, but five years earlier, Emmett had tussled with a boy while visiting the Delta. She assured Breland that Emmett had never been in any trouble back home.22
Before the jury returned, Judge Swango sustained all of the prosecution’s objections about Breland’s line of questioning, and reminded the attorney that certain questions would not be acceptable.23
When the jury returned, Breland again showed Mamie both sets of photos of her son, which she reaffirmed were of Emmett. She explained that when she first saw the body in the funeral home, it had not been touched up; when she came back later that day, it had been.
“He had a gash in his jaw, and his mouth was open and the tongue was out,” she said in describing the body as she first viewed it. “But from this picture here, it seems like his mouth has been closed, and that gash was sewn up, and that place in his forehead up there has been closed up.”
After that, Mamie was excused.24 The jury had heard very little of Breland’s cross-examination, except for Mamie’s identification of photos. Breland said nothing to challenge her testimony about the identity of the body.
Milam and Bryant faced Mamie as she sat on the stand, and for a moment, she was tempted to look them in the eyes. Despite their close proximity, she managed to resist.25
The next three people to take the stand were the surprise witnesses off the plantations in Sunflower County. Since Tuesday afternoon, rumors and vagaries had piqued the curiosity of spectators and newsmen alike. Now, finally, these unassuming field hands would have their say.
Emmett Till Page 20