Freedmen from the lower class had a strong belief in the presence and power of God in everyday life and therefore emphasized revelations, visions, dreams, and inward expressions of the divine presence. Their services, a mixture of grief and sadness about their weary life on Earth, provided a release for them. Sermons and songs about their bondage and impassioned prayers for divine aid caused the congregations to shout, cry, and raise a joyful noise to the Lord. Notwithstanding the emotion, there existed in the sermons a deep practical theme that usually compared the plight of blacks with that of the Jews as it emphasized the need to protect and expand their freedom.67
In contrast, elite congregations sang hymns from standard hymnals, listened to sermons delivered more articulately and less emotionally than those in lower-class churches, and behaved with considerable dignity. Thus, it is not surprising that a visitor to the Fifteenth Street Presbyterian Church in Washington, DC, led by the respected clergyman Francis Grimké, would describe the atmosphere as “serious but restrained.” Sometimes, Baptist and Methodist congregations of middle-class blacks exhibited the same qualities. For instance, the sermons of St. James AME Church in New Orleans were listened to “with marked attention and a deep spiritual interest by a very large and intelligent audience.” And the Christian Index described the Collins Chapel, CME Church of Memphis as a congregation made up of schoolteachers, postal workers, and other middle-class blacks. In the view of the Index, Collins Chapel Church was the “most refined and quiet large congregation in the city.”68
As expected, blacks from the lower class were uncomfortable in middle-class churches, and vice versa. The freedman Ed Barber, for instance, found the worship service at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Charleston distressing: “How they did carry on, bow and scrape and ape de white folks. I see some pretty feathers, pretty fans, and pretty women there! I was uncomfortable all de time though ... cause they was too ‘hifalootin’ in de ways, in de singin’ and all sorts of carrin’ ons.”69 In mid-1865, Thomas Cardozo, an American Missionary Association teacher and brother of Francis Cardozo, was frustrated with the form of worship found in most of Charleston’s black churches, most of which consisted of lower-class congregations. The religious services offered by the black Episcopalians were the exception, however, because, according to him, these congregations “worship intelligently.”70 Thus, he attended St. Mark’s.
It made little difference in terms of content, denomination, or social class because most ministers in the independent black churches delivered their sermons in the rousing style typical of Protestant evangelism. Their style was extemporaneous, full of gusto, and embellished with vivid imagery. Preachers did everything they could to make connections between contemporary topics and Old Testament lessons about liberation and the power and justice of God. Illustrating this approach is a sermon delivered by James Lynch, who could hardly be described as an uneducated backwoods preacher, in the AME church in Mitchelville, South Carolina, shortly after Abraham Lincoln’s assassination. Lynch compared Lincoln to Moses leading his people safely through the wilderness to the banks of the Jordan River. He then chose to depart from the Scriptures and take a metaphorical approach, depicting John Wilkes Booth as the spirit of rebellion, “creeping up the back stairs” to strike one final blow for slavery and disunion. Indeed, the sermon was well received by the congregation. A Northern teacher, Jane B. Smith, summarized its impact: “The feelings of his excited audience were wrought to such a pitch, that it was impossible to hear from above their sobs, groans, and shouts.”71
The striking differences in religious services among Baptists, Methodists, Episcopalians, and Presbyterians are still very much in existence today. In both Episcopal and Presbyterian churches, although the sermons are informed and intellectually stimulating, they lack the emotional appeal of those generally delivered by Baptist and Methodist ministers. Although most black churches have witnessed steadily declining numbers among their congregations, one of the many factors contributing to this trend, especially with respect to Episcopalians and Presbyterians, is the laid-back and unemotional format of their religious services. Their services still appeal to the black middle class, while the more emotional ones of the Baptists and Methodists continue to attract a large segment of working-class blacks. This is an ongoing problem for Episcopalians and Presbyterians. While it is true that the black middle class has been steadily growing over the past two decades, it is also true that most blacks are from the working class. Moreover, even those who count themselves among the middle class live on its fringes. Traditionally, they are more working-class in their outlook on life.
AN INSTITUTION CENTRAL TO THE BLACK COMMUNITY
After the Civil War, black churches set down a rigid moral and social code for their black congregants that condemned card playing, swearing, gambling, drinking, and “irregular” relationships and encouraged a monogamous family life. Deacons formed juries to render decisions on family disputes, and anyone who violated the code risked expulsion from the church.72 For example, Bella Fraser of Morris Street Baptist Church in Charleston was accused of committing adultery and was then investigated by deacons who found her guilty. As a result, she was expelled from the church. 73 Barney Alford recalled that “I jined the Little Tangipahoe Baptist Church when I was a young feller, en dey turned me outen fur stealin’.” 74 Under these rules, the divorce rate among church members declined,75 along with incidents of domestic abuse, alcoholism, and disciplinary problems among children.
Those blacks who engaged in criminal behavior risked not only expulsion from church but social ostracism by the black community as well. A case in point is the story of Noah Wilburn, who was employed for several years as the janitor of a Baptist church. He and his family were members, and Noah was held in high regard. However, when it was discovered that Noah was selling whiskey from the basement of the church, shock waves resounded throughout the community. As a result, Noah was so humiliated that he ran away from his wife, Jane, and his children and never returned. His crookedness brought shame and humiliation to Jane and her family.76
Local churches also served as a social and psychological outlet for blacks. In addition to the regular worship services, various activities took place there. Church buildings often functioned as community theaters and concert halls for choral performances and religious and secular plays. An especially festive time of the year was the Christmas season, when programs were offered in abundance, particularly for children. One year the adult members of the Ebenezer Baptist Church in Richmond packed a large box full of gifts and distributed them to excited children on Christmas Day. Black churches also organized picnics and barbecues, parades, carnivals and fairs, emancipation celebrations, baseball games, and boat and train excursions. These events attracted hundreds, if not thousands, of blacks, many of them coming from several miles away.77 One emancipation celebration sponsored by a church took place in 1881 in James City, North Carolina, a black town just outside New Bern. A New Bern newspaper reported that “from Beaufort and Morehead City a train of four or five cars arrived in the morning bringing some two hundred and fifty or three hundred,” and over 1,000 were expected to come to the celebration from the eastern counties. The newspaper noted that “this will necessitate the dispatching of an extra train as far up as Kinston.”78
MOUNT SHILOH FIRST BAPTIST CHURCH, FOUNDED IN 1866, IN JAMES CITY, NORTH CAROLINA. THE BUILDING PICTURED WAS ERECTED IN 1924.
Courtesy of the North Carolina Division of Archives and History
Boat or train excursions were particularly popular with blacks. Usually, excursions included short train or boat rides to nearby beaches or parks for picnics, games, and fellowship. Typical is an advertisement placed in the Huntsville Gazette by a Methodist Episcopal church that had organized an excursion in Huntsville, Alabama: “Everyone should enjoy some pleasure, and a trip to the pretty little town of Florence is a good way to pass a day pleasantly.” The cost for the day was $1.75. Sometimes churches would sponsor outings with
other churches. For instance, in the summer of 1882 the Birmingham AME Sunday school proposed an excursion to a nearby location with other churches to have a “grand time.” And when the Bank Street Baptist Church of Norfolk, Virginia, in 1881 organized a trip to Richmond, several whites went along.79
THE REVEREND HURLEY GRIMES, PASTOR OF MOUNT SHILOH FIRST BAPTIST CHURCH IN JAMES CITY AND AN IMPORTANT RELIGIOUS AND CIVIC LEADER IN NORTH CAROLINA DURING EMANCIPATION AND RECONSTRUCTION.
Courtesy of the North Carolina Division Archives and History
Although black women did not serve as ministers, elders, or deacons in the early churches, their impact was nevertheless significant. They organized fund-raising events and social activities, cooked for the church suppers, put on the fairs, and planned the June Tenth celebrations. Moreover, the job of making sure that large crowds attended such events fell on their shoulders.80 At these church affairs, blacks were able to forget the everyday grind of poverty and the fear and humiliation of their constant confrontations with white racism and violence in the aftermath of the war. By providing blacks with a structured social life in which to achieve status, express their deepest feelings, and perhaps find meaning in their lives, the black churches functioned as a refuge from a hostile world.81
The freedmen’s campaign to promote education was also supported by the black churches. Most of the funds raised to build and maintain schools were collected in worship services. Whenever a minister called on the congregation to contribute, they gave whatever they could, no matter how small the amount. Black ministers such as R. H. Cain and Jonathan C. Gibbs, both of Charleston, organized schools there. Three schools opened by the Freedmen’s Bureau in Galveston, Texas, in 1865 and 1867 used church facilities.
Black churches provided another service crucial to their members’ survival: social welfare. Most black benevolent and mutual-aid societies that were established after the Civil War were organized by the churches. Through these societies, church members found homes for the homeless, gave money to the poorest among them, and sent care givers to the sick. Most of the parishioners in the mutual-aid societies were women, a largely ignored aspect of African-American history. The black ladies of Louisville, Kentucky, sponsored fairs and benefits to raise money for clothes, fuel, and furniture for destitute refugees. In addition, black congregants throughout the South also gave food and clothing to the indigent.82 Charley White, a black preacher in Jacksonville, Texas, worried that winter would give rise to greater hardships, thereby creating a situation in which “lots of children warn’t gonna have nothing for Christmas,” and he called on several local businessmen to contribute to a Christmas fund. The response was an outpouring of food and clothing for the children and their families.83
ST. PHILIPS CHURCH, SCHOOL FOR COLORED CHILDREN, RICHMOND, VIRGINIA.
Library of Congress
Throughout the war, black wounded soldiers suffered tremendously, due in large part to the inadequate nursing services of the Federal government. Federal officials also often all but ignored the families of black soldiers who sometimes followed them from one camp to another. With little or no material assistance provided them, black volunteer societies helped fill this void. The Soldiers’ Aid Society, for example, was established by Green Street Baptist Church in Louisville, Kentucky, for this purpose. Under the leadership of Mary Lewis, Sally Fretus, and Flusie Pope, the society cared for the sick and wounded black soldiers who had been brought to hospitals in Louisville and New Albany, Indiana. In their mission of caring for the sick and providing for the needy, society members also visited the barracks of black troops. Similar work was done by the Colored Soldiers’ Aid Society of the Fifth Street Baptist Church of Louisville. Moreover, the Sons and Daughters of the Morning and the Daughters of Zion, both Louisville groups, also engaged in efforts to aid wounded and disabled soldiers and assist their families.84
Attention to the sick and disabled extended well beyond black soldiers and their families. For instance, with the noble goal of extending medical attention to ailing members, Dr. S. H. Toles, a black man and a native of Ohio, was hired on July 1, 1867, by the Daughters of Zion of Avery Chapel AME Church in Memphis, Tennessee, at a yearly salary of $200. Dr. Tole’s annual report underscored the importance of black women’s efforts to safeguard the health and well-being of a community denied equal access to public-supported professional health care. Two-hundred and sixty patients were treated by Dr. Toles between July 1, 1867, and June 30, 1868, yet he reported only two deaths. The Daughters of Zion also disbursed $248.50 within a three-month period to indigent members of the congregation, despite the financial burden of supplying the services of a physician. And the 304 dues-paying members were avid fund raisers, sponsoring events such as fairs, picnics, and balls. They pooled their resources and solicited voluntary contributions from the congregation. The Daughters of Zion were so successful in their efforts that despite spending nearly $450 by the close of the 1868 fiscal year, the group still had $140.20 in their account at the Freedmen’s Savings and Trust Bank.85
Sometimes, black congregants took an even larger step in their determination to provide health care to ailing members of the community. For example, the Fifth Street Baptist Church of Louisville in February 1866 began a movement to establish a hospital for freedmen. The church raised $180, a phenomenal amount, at its initial meeting. Shortly thereafter, other churches made similar pledges, and leaders soon selected a location. In April 1866, with the help of the Sanitary Commission, a hospital was located in Louisville at the corner of Seventeenth Street and Broadway. Although the hospital grew rapidly, with thirty-five patients and four nurses, a lack of funds hampered its efforts.86 Similarly, black churches in Savannah pooled their resources to establish Lincoln Freedmen’s Hospital, and they continued to support it throughout its brief existence.87 Black parishioners did not forget the social outcasts of society, for they visited inmates of jails and prisons to extend medical attention and comfort to them.88
Black churches also established old folks’ homes to take care of the aged, materially assisted the infirm, and organized burial associations. For example, in the fall of 1865, blacks in Paducah, Kentucky, organized a Freedmen’s Aid Society to support the aged and infirm. Methodist churches in Louisville also opened an old folks’ home. Burial associations gave money to those lacking funds to provide decent burials for loved ones. It was especially gratifying for the bereaved to be able to arrange a suitable funeral service. Sometimes church organizations collected and spent several dollars on burial expenses. For instance, the Benevolent Daughters of Zion in Natchez, Mississippi, an AME affiliate, raised and spent $823 in support of the poor and for a burial fund, and Paducah’s Sanitary Commission collected and spent $204 for burials. Moreover, following the leadership of black ministers, freedmen in Columbus, Kentucky, in June 1868 organized the Freedmen’s Aid Association, with the objective of feeding the starving and burying the dead.89
An especially daunting problem confronting black communities was the care of orphans. The decimation wrought by the institution of slavery on the black family further exacerbated this situation. Whole families were sometimes separated by sale, with some members so young that later in life they would not be able to recognize parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, or siblings. Moreover, the Civil War gave rise to a fluid situation in which many blacks were constantly on the move in their attempts to gain the freedom that had long eluded them. Many of them perished along the way, the victims of Northern white soldiers or vengeful Southern whites. Other freedmen saw military duty in the war, and nearly 40,000 gave their lives. As a consequence, it should come as no surprise to acknowledge the fact that black communities were besieged by orphans. Of course, black churches formed societies to assist orphans, especially since women, with their nurturing motherly instincts, dominated the mutual-aid societies in terms of activism. Thus, the welfare of orphans was of paramount importance to them. Their welfare also assumed great importance to black communities becau
se children represented the future of the race.
In post-Civil War black America, orphanages often served as daycare centers in addition to their more standard function of housing children who were homeless because of broken households or of deceased parents. Scattered black orphanages did not escape the perceptive observation of whites. General O. O. Howard, the superintendent of the Freedmen’s Bureau, for example, commented on the success of one started by blacks in New Orleans. It was so effective that “many of its early residents ended up in homes with parents and friends.” A black woman is given credit by John Eaton for starting the first Mississippi Valley wartime orphanage, on President’s Island near Memphis. Similarly, not long after the war, freedmen either helped start or entirely supported orphanages in Beaufort and Charleston, South Carolina, and Mobile, Alabama. The orphanage in Beaufort was “properly officered by the colored citizens.” Mobile’s blacks held a fair in the summer or fall of 1865 and raised a staggering $1,200 to build an orphanage. A group of black women from a local church in Charleston secured and outfitted an “orphan house” for the children of parents who found employment in the countryside. And when Northern relief officials started a second orphanage for freedmen in New Orleans, the city’s “poor,” though destitute, contributed $1,500 to support it.90
Although the data delineating the socioeconomic backgrounds of most black females who were active members in benevolent societies are sparse, some illuminating documentation does exist for women’s benevolent societies in Memphis. The data indicate that not only did the vast majority of members come from the working class, but so, too, did the leaders. For example, almost two-thirds (61.5 percent) of the leadership elite worked as laundresses, ironers, and domestics. Given the dire poverty of most blacks, in all likelihood the socioeconomic profile of the members of women’s benevolent societies of Memphis is reflective of most throughout the South in the post-Civil War era. That these societies accomplished so much during the difficult economic times of the 1870s, 1880s, and 1890s makes their achievement all the more impressive. The panic of 1873 and the subsequent depression, which dragged on until 1879, contributed to chaotic financial conditions in areas throughout the South. In addition, when the Freedmen’s Savings Bank collapsed and subsequently closed its doors in July 1874, the economic situation further worsened. Many freedmen had their life savings in the bank, and now all was lost. Yet, despite these obstacles, black parishioners—mostly women—persisted in their efforts to help the needy in their communities. And regardless of the size of their congregations, most churches maintained some ongoing program of benevolence.91
Climbing Up to Glory Page 27