Labor unions spoke out as well. The UAW Local 333 in Oakland, California; the International Ladies Garment Workers Union Local 22 in New York; the International Longshoremen’s & Warehousemen’s Union Local 10 out of San Francisco; and the CIO United Steelworkers Local 1104 in Lorain, Ohio, all sent telegrams to President Eisenhower or otherwise condemned the murder and not-guilty verdict. In Berkeley, California, the Seventeenth Assembly District Democratic Club voted unanimously to write officials of the National Democratic Party to urge them to adopt antilynching legislation in the 1956 campaign. The San Francisco Communist paper, the Daily People’s World, printed 5,000 copies of a September 12 editorial entitled “Punish the Killers,” and distributed them all over Los Angeles.51
In light of all of the impassioned protests, a letter sent from Mississippi congressman Jamie Whitten to his cousin and the four other men of the defense team seemed eerily out of touch. He insisted that “public reaction” to the verdict “has been excellent indeed.” Representative Whitten, hardly isolated from the rest of the country from his office in Washington, DC, certainly knew that millions of Americans outside the southern bubble were unhappy, even outraged that Milam and Bryant were acquitted. Perhaps he meant to dismiss them all when he defined sympathizers toward the defense as “the thinking people of the nation.”52 Yet even Whitten would have had to concede that a September 25 editorial in the Jackson Daily News, if he had a chance to read it, proved naive when it insisted that “the Bryant-Milam case be forgotten as quickly as possible.”53 With a second grand jury decision still looming and Americans engulfed in protests throughout the nation, forgetting was not an option, at least not just yet.
On the day that Milam and Bryant were released from jail, the Criminal Division of the US Department of Justice quietly made a request for an investigation into the Till case, explained FBI assistant director Alex Rosen, “in order that we may be in a position to determine whether a violation of the Civil Rights Statute is involved.” Although the Department of Justice had announced shortly after the murder that it lacked jurisdiction into the matter, the request was based on a letter from the NAACP that enclosed an article, clipped from the Washington Afro-American, reporting that Levi Collins and Henry Lee Loggins had been held in the Tallahatchie County jail in Charleston during the trial in order to keep them from testifying. If true, this would have been a violation of section 242 of the statute, which applies to persons “under color of law.” By definition, this meant law officials or those working with them who tamper with witnesses. Under the provisions of the statute at the time, this would have been the only real justification for the federal government to take on the case.54
On October 4, F. L. Price wrote a memo to Rosen, authorizing a limited investigation to determine whether the Department of Justice had any jurisdiction. The investigation was assigned to the Memphis office of the FBI, and agents there conducted an interview with trial prosecutor Robert Smith. Smith told the FBI that he had been made aware of the rumors about Collins and Loggins during the trial and had interviewed Sheriff Strider as well as a deputy. Both denied that the men were at the jail. Smith followed up by assigning the highway patrol, led by Gwin Cole, to search the jail and interview each of the black inmates on an individual basis. These officers determined that neither Collins nor Loggins was then, nor had they been, in the jail during the trial. With that, the FBI closed its probe and submitted a report on October 13. Demands for federal intervention increased over the next few months, but after this initial inquiry, the Justice Department never seriously considered jurisdiction in the case again.55
On Saturday, October 1, just as the FBI began its brief inquiry, stories out of the Delta reported breaking news that the mysterious whereabouts of Collins and Loggins were finally determined. In fact, an anonymous black leader confirmed not only that the men had been found but that both had been taken out of Mississippi for “safe-keeping.”56
The quest to find the pair had begun quietly on Monday, September 26. Tri-State Defender editor Alex Wilson, stationed in Memphis, heard rumors that Sheriff Strider had contacted Loggins’s father, DeWitt, and promised that his son would be back home by Wednesday. If this meant that the two men were about to be released from the Charleston jail where they were rumored to have been, Wilson wanted to have a reporter there to find out and locate them if they suddenly showed up in the community. Wilson left Memphis and headed down to the Delta that night about 8:30, after talking to an unidentified member of what he called the “Mississippi underground.”
Over the next few days, Wilson and the others worked tirelessly to find the men but learned on Wednesday that Loggins had gone to St. Louis. This may have been a rumor, because a reporter for the St. Louis Argus shortly talked with Loggins by telephone, and Loggins was still in Mississippi. He did say he was going to St. Louis to live with an uncle, Louis Height, and even gave the reporter the address. But when the newsman checked it out, it turned out to be the address for the Adams Bath House. Whether the man on the phone was actually Loggins remains a mystery, but the field hand did have connections to St. Louis and had lived there three years earlier while working as a dishwasher at the Fred Harvey Restaurant.57
Wherever Loggins was, he was currently inaccessible, and so Wilson and the “Mississippi underground” focused solely on Collins, who they shortly learned was working in a cotton field in Minter City. Next, they carefully devised a plan whereby they would use a contact—someone known to Collins but who would not arouse suspicion—to convince Collins, who had a fondness for gambling, to go with him to do some betting. This was on Friday, September 30. The plan worked. After Collins and the “Mississippi underground” contact arrived in Minter City, Wilson approached their car and asked Collins for a match. Wilson then revealed his identity and said that he was there to help him out of the state for his own safety.58
Collins warmed up to Wilson, but refused to go with him that night. Instead, he promised to have his family at the rendezvous headquarters by seven o’clock the next morning. Wilson left, went back to his room, and got ready for bed. Shortly after, however, he received a call from the “Mississippi underground” leader saying that Collins had changed his mind and was already at the bus station waiting to go to Chicago. Wilson immediately got dressed and went to the station, where he met Collins and his friend. Collins’s family, it turned out, did not want to leave the state, but agreed nevertheless that it was best for Levi to go away for awhile. Collins and Wilson then drove to Memphis and at 3:00 A.M. started for Chicago. During the eleven-hour journey, Collins happily helped with the driving.59
Meanwhile, Mamie Bradley returned home after the twenty-four-hour Detroit rally but was admitted to Provident Hospital on Saturday night. Reports indicated that she was suffering from a cold and, understandably, nervous exhaustion. During her three-day stay, the media were forbidden from talking to her, but shortly before her release, a reporter for the Chicago American was allowed to submit questions through Rayfield Mooty. Mamie, in turn, wrote out her responses, which Mooty then delivered. One question was motivated by reports surfacing since Sunday that University of Chicago pathologists were set to exhume Emmett’s body in order to make a positive identification. When asked if she would allow this, Mamie said she could “see no reason for it” at that time. Was she going to Mississippi for the kidnapping trial? “I will follow the advice of my attorney,” she replied. From her hospital bed, she also criticized the state attorneys and other investigators who handled the murder investigation.60
Mamie was released on Tuesday, October 4, and briefly went into seclusion at the home of some friends.61 That same day the October 8 issue of the Chicago Defender appeared, containing an interview with Collins conducted over a two-day period after his Saturday night arrival up north. Colonel Euclid Louis Taylor, general counsel for the Defender, conducted the interview. Also present were Alex Wilson and Defender publisher and editor John H. Sengstacke.62
For those counting on a confession fr
om the Delta farmhand, or at least something to further implicate Milam and Bryant in the kidnapping and murder of Emmett Till, the interview was a disappointment. Collins denied any connection to the crime and even claimed to have no knowledge of it. He also established alibis for both himself and Loggins. He said that he was home in bed at the hour of the kidnapping and went to Greenwood with a friend later that morning, where they visited some young women until after 10:00 that night. If his story was true, he could not have been on the truck that Willie Reed saw early Sunday. He said that on Monday morning, J. W. Milam came to him, picked him up, and took him to Minter City to run a cotton picker for Milam’s brother-in-law, Melvin Campbell.63 At this point, Roy Bryant would have already been arrested; Milam would turn himself in later that day.
Collins said he did not see Loggins again until Tuesday. During the week of the trial, they were both in Clarksdale driving a gravel truck for Campbell, and Collins was unaware that the trial was even in progress. When he returned to Minter City on Saturday, September 24, he resumed work in the cotton field running the picker. Collins said that it was only then that Campbell told him the trial was over. Taylor then asked Collins if he thought J. W. Milam could have committed the murder.
“No, I believe he was too nice a man to do it,” replied Collins. “He treat too many colored people nice. He treat me and all of the rest of the colored people nice. He was mean to white people, though.”64
The Defender had intended to have Willie Reed identify Collins, but Reed, like Mamie Bradley, had entered a hospital due to a nervous condition shortly after arriving in Chicago. Reed was still in Michael Reese Hospital while Collins was in the city, and reporters were forbidden from visiting him.65 By the time the Defender hit the stands on Tuesday, Collins was on his way back to Mississippi. He returned to Memphis with Wilson that day, despite advice from Wilson and others that he not go back to Glendora. In Chicago, Collins had received new clothes and promises of a good job, and was assured a place to live. He wanted to visit his mother first, but promised to return to Chicago on either October 7 or 8. He was then given money to help his mother and pay his way back to Chicago. Unfortunately, he failed to return, and soon word was out that he was missing once again.66
Although the Defender interview was hardly a bombshell, it clearly showed that Collins was hiding something. He could not give the names of the young women he said he had been visiting in Greenwood, even though he had allegedly spent the entire day with them. He also told Taylor more than once that he wanted to talk with Loggins.
“Can you tell us why you want to talk to him?” Taylor asked.
“I just want to talk to him,” replied Collins.
“What do you want to talk to him about?”
“I can’t tell you what I want to talk with him about. I just want to see him,” Collins insisted.67
Taylor then arranged for Collins to speak to Loggins by phone, but Collins refused to talk to the lawyer any further until he could see Loggins in person. During the course of the interview, Collins denied knowing Mandy Bradley, but when she entered the Defender office and confronted him, he admitted that he had known her for years.68
Where was Loggins during all of this? According to the New York Post, he had returned to Sumner from St. Louis on Sunday, October 3, and agreed several times to meet with Defender reporters there. Unfortunately, those meetings fell through.69
To be sure, the Collins interview was important, despite being a letdown in so many ways. It certainly raised some questions, and the answers seemed incredibly elusive. Just what was Collins’s and Loggins’s involvement in the Till case? Had they really been in jail during the trial, or were they working out of town as Collins claimed? With Collins safe in Chicago, why was he protecting Milam? Was Collins afraid of repercussions against his family, who remained in Mississippi? Reporter James Hicks continued to investigate the two men as he searched for answers. His report, which raised more questions still, would appear a month later.
In the meantime, focus shifted to even more sensational news related to the Till case, and it captivated Mississippians for the next several days. On Wednesday, October 5, the first of three serialized articles by reporter Bill Spell appeared in the Jackson Daily News. Spell had just returned from Chicago, where he went specifically to seek out Mose Wright, Willie Reed, and Mandy Bradley. An editor’s note above the first installment explained why. Because of “a flow of conflicting reports” about things the three sharecroppers supposedly said in explaining their move from Mississippi, the paper wanted Spell to learn the facts behind their relocation to Chicago. Spell believed he had evidence to show that they were actually being held against their will. Wednesday’s headline did not pull any punches. “A Daily News Newspaperman Dared to Penetrate Chicago’s South Side: State Negroes Held ‘Captive’ in Chicago.”70
Spell, twenty-nine, was a World War II veteran who had been in the news business for about six years. He had just returned to the Jackson Daily News after a leave of absence while he worked on the campaign of former Mississippi governor Fielding Wright, who had just sought and lost a second nonconsecutive term for the executive office. Spell, a member of the National Guard, used an official plane to make his Chicago trip. He used the plane to help accumulate required flight hours as part of his training. Flying the plane was thirty-two-year-old crew pilot William J. Chrisler.71
Spell and Chrisler flew to Chicago on Monday, October 3. Upon their arrival, they visited the office of police commissioner Timothy J. O’Conner, where they received clearance and were taken by two officers to the Prairie Avenue police station. While there, they learned that Willie Reed had been admitted to Michael Reese Hospital. Spell asked for an escort and was given a police lieutenant named Edward Wolfe to accompany them to the hospital. When they arrived, they found Reed in a four-bed room, shared with one other black patient and two white ones. Reed, whom Spell said was “retching” when they arrived, was under the watch of a tall, black policeman, an obvious anomaly to the two white Mississippians. Wolfe told the officer that Spell had been given permission to talk with the patient.72 Spell then addressed Reed.
“Willie,” Spell said, “I’m from Mississippi. From the Jackson Daily News. I came here to get the truth about why you left Mississippi and to find out if you are afraid to go back.”
Reed remained silent, but the policeman leaned closer to the bed.
“You don’t have to answer me,” Spell assured the ailing teen. “I am here to find out who you are afraid of, if you are afraid of anybody.”
Reed sat up, but only mumbled.
Spell tried again. “I just want to know if anyone did you any harm before you left.”
“No, sir,” answered Reed.
“Did anyone threaten you or say they would hurt you?”
“No, sir,” Reed replied, his voice gaining strength. “But I was afraid they might.”
“Who were you afraid of?” asked Spell.
“Mr. Bryant and Mr. Milam.”
“Did they say they would hurt you?”
“No, sir, but after the trial they looked at me hard.”
Spell continued to query Reed, who affirmed that he had no desire to return to his former home, even if he was sure no one there would harm him. Reed would not say if anyone had urged him to leave Mississippi or promised to move him from the state in exchange for his testimony.73
Spell’s second installment ran on Thursday, October 6. After visiting Reed, Spell and Chrisler went to Mamie Bradley’s home. Once again, they were met by a police guard. The police presence obviously angered Spell, who noted bitterly that stories “broadcast to the world” had “left the sharp and biting implication that a policeman was needed to protect her from lynch-minded Mississippi ‘white men.’” To Spell, this was a myth that many readily believed about his state.74
Spell had actually gone there looking for Mose Wright, but he quickly learned that neither Wright nor Mamie Bradley were at the residence. In fact, Mamie was still
in the hospital, but Spell probably did not know she had even been admitted. Wright was not living there, but Spell discovered that Mandy Bradley was. The policeman allowed the men inside, and in a few moments, Mandy came into the room and sat down.
“Mandy,” began Spell, “I came here to find the truth about why you left Mississippi.”
“I left because I was scared,” Mandy replied.
“Did anybody do you any harm before you left?”
“No, sir.”
“Who were you afraid of, Mandy?”
“Mr. Bryant and Mr. Milam.”
“Did they ever say they would hurt you?”
“No, sir.”
“Did Mr. Bryant or Mr. Milam ever talk to you?”
“No, sir.”
Spell continued to probe, and finally asked, “Is it right that Colored people told you it would be best that you leave?”
“Yes, sir,” affirmed Mandy. “But they must have been right because my husband got beat up and run out of Mississippi.”
“Do you know where he is now?”
“No, sir.”
At that moment, Alma Spearman walked into the room, surprised to see the two Mississippians.
“How did you gain entrance into this house?” she demanded.
“The officer invited me in,” explained Spell.
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