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help the improvident and orphaned. It was also a way to combat dependency,
something viewed by nineteenth- century Americans as unqualifi ed for citizen-
ship. Later claims that the freed community would have cared for every one of
these children defy credulity. Th
e very thing that necessitated the Freedmen’s
Bureau’s existence also necessitated the apprentice system: many former slaves
were in need of care. Whether these men were culturally knowledgeable of the
freed community matters little. For sure, some freed parents proved capable of
caring for these children. When that was determined, agents returned the child
to a parent, relative, or guardian; but only if he deemed it in the child’s best
interest. Th
e undeniable fact remains that many former slaves could not care for
their children, let alone the noticeable number of orphans in Texas following
the Civil War, regardless of any history of “extended families” or prevalence of
“fi ctive kin” relationship. Would these children have benefi ted by remaining
with parents or guardians unable or unwilling to care for them properly and
living a life marred by homelessness, hunger, and abject poverty? Bureau agents
did not think so. Apprenticeship proved a viable and acceptable option (for the
times and for federal policy makers) for agents to remedy destitution. Th
ese
men believed that they were doing what was best for the apprenticed. For some
children, that meant being bound out, but agents made sure the apprentice
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Bureau Expansion, Bureau Courts, and the Black Code
contract was “not enforced in the spirit in which [it was] passed by the legisla-
ture.” For others, that meant remaining with their parent(s) or relatives. Th
e
simple fact was, for the time being, the freedpeople were dependents of the
government, subject to its regulations and desires, with little recourse but to
accept that inevitability.
In the summer and fall of 1866, as Congress renewed the agency for another
two years, the Bureau had greatly expanded, both in the territory it covered and
personnel. Th
is expansion could not have come at a better time, especially as
white resistance reached its most intense since the close of the war. In addition
to protecting the freed community from violence, Bureau agents had to protect
them against the excesses within the Black Code. SACs, through Bureau courts,
attempted to secure the former slaves’ legal rights and to “educate” white Tex-
ans that they had rights that must be respected. Furthermore, they urged freed-
people to obey the law and to learn what their civil responsibilities were. During
Kiddoo’s administration, this education extended beyond the courtroom and
into the classroom. In fact, he would place emphasis on freedmen’s schools to
such an extent that it would be one of his most important legacies. Th
ey were to
be taught how to read and write, but also educated on proper Victorian behav-
ior and their responsibilities as men, women, and citizens.
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Th
e Bureau’s
5
Highwater Mark
Th
e J. B. Kiddoo Era,
November 1866–January 1867
In conjunction with teaching the freed community to abide by the law, sub-
assistant commissioners tried to educate them to contemporary societal
behavior. Th
ey believed much of their social behavior, especially sexual
relations, were those of slavery, not freedom. Th
ey had to learn that society had
expectations. Although Bureau men led by example and, at times, through
punishment with fi nes, they mostly educated the freedpeople about their social
duties through freedmen’s schools. Th
ese schools were to teach reading and
writing as well as proper Victorian behavior. Kiddoo placed great emphasis on
such education.
Th
is emphasis further expanded agents’ duties and the agency’s bureaucrati-
zation. By the end of 1866, the Freedmen’s Bureau in Texas had reached its zenith,
overseeing all aspects of the freedpeople’s lives free from interference. From
then, however, Bureau and military offi
cers slowly transferred authority to civil
authorities. In the meantime, agents’ responsibilities with Bureau courts, labor
contracts, marriages, and the Black Code all contributed to the agency’s bureau-
cratization. During Kiddoo’s administration, in fact, a good portion of an agent’s
work was little diff erent from the clerks’ back at headquarters. Kiddoo would
also order many inspection tours, which, in conjunction with the increased
paperwork, served to apprise superiors of any malfeasant subordinates. At the
same time all this occurred, a new labor practice developed in Texas. Sharecrop-
ping would alter the relationship between the planter and fi eld hand and aff ect
the South far into the future. More important for this study, however, it would
have lasting consequences for the image of the subassistant commissioner.
With slavery’s demise, the Bureau struggled to educate the freedpeople of
their familial responsibilities, particularly matrimonial and domestic issues. In
all, Bureau agents arbitrated 246 cases involving domestic issues, with the
plaintiff winning 33.7 percent (n=83). Th
ose dealing with domestic issues were
the most racially homogenous, with 87.8 percent having both parties black.
Considering the character of domestic issues, confl icts developing between
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The Bureau’s Highwater Mark
married or sexual partners, helps explain the homogeneity. Th
e defendant came
out victorious only 18 times—the rest being referred, settled without specifi city,
dismissed, or continued. As Table 5- 1 shows, agents dealt with the spectrum of
domestic problems.
Table 5- 1 Cases Brought Before Texas SACs with Black Plaintiff s and Black Defendants
Number
Number
Total
Percentage
of
of
Number of
of All
Female
Male
Domestic
Domestic
Issue Plaintiff s
Plaintiff s
Cases (n=)
Cases
Desertion/Abandonment
.
Abuse/Assault/Ill- treatment
.
Domestic/Marital Issue
Polygamy/Adultery/Fornication/
.
&nbs
p; Infi delity/Cohabitation
Alimony/Care/Support
.
(w/o specifying child)
Divorce/Separation
Interference w/Wife or
.
Relationship/Impudent
Behavior w/ Wife/Decoying
Wife Away/Insulting Wife
Combination of Issues
.
Retains/Abduction of Wife
.
Promise to Marry/Breach
.
of
Promise
Other
.
All Cases Involving Adult
n=n
=n
=
.
Relationships (Above) Only
Child Custody/Possession
.
of
Child
Child Support/Desertion
of
Child/Bastardy
Child Abuse
.
Custody of Wife and Child/
.
Reunion of Family
Other
.
All Cases Involving
n=
n=n
=
.
Children
Only
Note: Cases came from the Register of Complaints in each subdistrict.
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The J. B. Kiddoo Era, Nov. 1866–Jan. 1867
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Prior to 1865, Texas did not recognize slave marriages. Aft er the war, the
United States government deemed relationships that existed during slavery
(“Persons cohabitating together or associating as man and wife”) as marriages.
SACs proactively moved to promote the sanctity of these relationships. Th
e
word “sanctity,” of course, embodied something. To the agency, it meant the
marriage contract. Commissioner Howard reminded subordinates that ideally
their marriage policies should conform to state law. Although Howard recom-
mended subordinates to instruct “all Freedpeople what the law demands of
them in regard to marriage,” assistant commissioners in each state were essen-
tially left free to create their own marriage policies.
E. M. Gregory instituted marriage regulations in early 1866. His successors
continued it relatively unchanged: no male under eighteen or female under fi f-
teen could marry, and each marriage required parental or guardian consent for
boys under twenty- one and girls under eighteen. Although authorized to decide
on behalf if a parent or guardian was not available, superiors refused to grant
such authority to agents regarding divorces. Th
ey wanted to curb sinful behav-
ior among the former slaves—illegitimacy, promiscuity, and infi delity. Superi-
ors reiterated to agents their responsibilities to rectify “the existing evils on this
subject.” In essence, according to law historian Katherine M. Franke, they
“operationalized the normative expectations of citizenship by regulating Afri-
can American families and testing their ability to ‘manage dependency.’ ” As
historian Michael Grossberg has shown, “Without such legitimacy, a sexual
union was considered only a casual connection between a man and a woman. ”
Since these “existing evils” were quite prevalent, SACs had a diffi
cult task. At
Marlin Falls in 1866, A. P. Delano was “mindful of their [the freedmen] morals”
and had corrected “many evils.” He admitted being troubled by “an inclination
on the part of man and wife to sepperate [sic]” and “have now become fully
convinced of the real necicity [sic] of making a support for themselves and
families, and in many instances resort to separation to rid themselves of such
incumbunces [sic].” Later that year, he continued to struggle “to keep them
together as they have been accustomed thru life to a change of pastures it is now
pretty hard to confi ne an old Buck . . . and more particular when the young
fawns are of diff erent stripes.”
Although headquarters forbade divorces, this did not always translate into
offi
cial policy in the fi eld—agents offi
cially could not grant divorces, but rather
counsel the parties to seek a divorce in the civil courts. Twelve cases involved
divorce or separation (separation meant cohabitation, but not offi
cially married
by the state). Headquarters’ response, despite its policy, was never uniform.
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The Bureau’s Highwater Mark
Superiors sometimes countermanded the decision or responded with a letter
expressing their wishes (this, of course, was more an order than suggestion). At
other times, they did nothing, apparently allowing the decision to stand. Why
would headquarters countenance such apparent acts of insubordination? What
appears to be toleration actually could be a simple oversight. With the enor-
mous amount of information coming into headquarters, offi
cials were bound to
overlook, miss, or ignore business. As every fi eld agent could attest, letters oft en
went unanswered. Perhaps a more accurate explanation is the course superiors
oft en took when solicited for guidance by Bureau men: use your best judgment.
Th
ey realized that circumstances might dictate the need for a divorce, and the
agent on the scene, privy to information and nuances not easily expressed in
writing, was in the better position to determine this.
Th
e proceedings for “divorce” were similar to all others. Th
e agent sum-
moned the parties, took testimony (of parties and any witnesses), received evi-
dence (if any), and either off ered guidance or, if necessary, a binding verdict.
Th
e reasons for wanting the dissolution ranged from ill- treatment to “dissatis-
faction” and “interference.” In three cases the plaintiff was a freedman. A freed-
woman’s complaint, though, represented the typical case. One example from
the SAC at Brenham should suffi
ce. In December 1868 F. P. Wood heard Sally
King’s complaint against Bob King. She accused him of “cruel treatment.”
Wood believed the facts sustained the charge and “ordered that the woman be
permitted to live separate from her husband.” He noted that she
had to apply to
the civil courts for it to be legal. In addition to granting the separation, Wood
ordered Bob King to divide equally their communal property.
Field agents constantly battled behavior contrary to Victorian societal norms.
Although each passing year instances dwindled, personnel never completely
ended it. As late as September 1868, David S. Beath at Cotton Gin reported
“cohabitation.” Henry Gouldsy, a freedman, had been living with one woman,
but “promised another if she [would do] right he would marry her.” Obviously
jilted, the fi rst woman reported Henry’s actions to Beath, who, aft er a thorough
investigation, fi ned him almost two hundred dollars. It remains uncertain
whether Beath’s moral beliefs infl uenced such a high fi ne or whether he simply
wanted to make a point, but it defi nitely “had a great eff ect on the Freedpeople
as not one case of adultery has been reported since this case was tried.” In place
of fi nes, John Dix gave “moral lectures.” Harris County agent J. D. O’Connell
investigated a group of freedwomen, accusing them of acts in “utter violation of
common decency.” Instead of trying them, he referred the case to the Houston
civil authorities “with a request that the full penalty of the law be visited upon
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The J. B. Kiddoo Era, Nov. 1866–Jan. 1867
93
them.” Regardless, most approached the problem with understanding, not con-
demnation. “[N]inety- nine of the Negroes in a hundred might be found guilty
of” adultery, wrote B. J. Arnold, “as they do not realize that it is a crime since
they have never been taught the contrary.”
Personal preference and philosophy greatly infl uenced each agent’s course.
Th
eir “best judgment” was policy. Later historians would criticize this: within
marriage, women essentially lost their “being” to their husbands. In return for
his protection and support, as well as dispelling any suspicion concerning her
“moral compass,” the wife owed her subordination and, in many ways, her self-
identity to her husband. Samuel C. Sloan, for example, adhered to the old com-
mon law maxim: the “husband controls the wife” (something E. M. Gregory
codifi ed as early as 1865). By doing so, they followed contemporary ideas con-
cerning domestic gender roles as well as “absolve [the government] of responsi-
bility for the costs of care of needy women and children.” Nonetheless, freedmen
were not free from government oversight, as Bureau men ensured they provided