John DeSantis - The Thibodaux Massacre: Racial Violence and the 1887 Sugar Cane Labor Strike

There is nothing like a good reporter to tackle a tough story, and there are few stories tougher than a racial murderIt takes a relentless, disciplined curiosity to search for the truth through a maelstrom of myth and fantasy and self-righteous bigotry, and to recognize at the end that there are many truths, no absolutesJohn DeSantisobviously knows how to talk to people, how to dig out facts and how to report his findings in human terms, with compassion.

New York Times

Published by The History Press

Charleston, SC

www.historypress.net

Copyright 2016 by John DeSantis

All rights reserved

Cover: A lone worker walks through a Louisiana cane field, possibly from the late nineteenth century. New York Public Library.

First published 2016

e-book edition 2016

ISBN 978.1.46713.689.1

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016943917

print edition ISBN 978.1.46713.553.5

Notice: The information in this book is true and complete to the best of our knowledge. It is offered without guarantee on the part of the author or The History Press. The author and The History Press disclaim all liability in connection with the use of this book.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever without prior written permission from the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is dedicated to the memory of those who died in Thibodaux as a result of events on November 23, 1887, both known and unknown.

It is also dedicated to my sister, Susan Bottie, and her daughters, Jacqueline and Julia, who are living proof of a bright and beautiful future for this world.

FOREWORD

I was introduced to the story of the Thibodaux Massacre long ago as a young boy by my grandfather Melvin Ballard. He worked as a sugar cane laborer all his life. His wife, my grandmother Nellie Ballard, was also a sugar cane worker. For some years, she also worked inside the plantation owners home. She cooked, cleaned and played a big part in helping to rear his children.

I was educated about all of this when I went as a young man for my first job. Once I mentioned who my grandmother and grandfather were, it was on. I left the interview with a lot more knowledge about my grandparentsand a job.

As a young boy, I stuck with my grandfather a lot. He was a fisherman, hunter and carpenter. He could do just about anything, and he would do it well. I learned a lot from him. On and off on those fishing trips, or while just plain talking, he would mention in bits and pieces what his parents told him about the massacre. All I could do was listen. I had no idea what he was talking about, if this was real or if he was joking. But the stories stayed with me, and I was always curious.

One day, I decided to look it up and found some information about it. That was when my own research started. I was so surprised to know that this horrible event had actually happened here, where I live. Over eleven years of serving as president of the Lafourche Parish NAACP, people have asked me about it, but I had very little information. The biggest question that all of this has raised for me is how many other atrocities have been committed here and in other places that are still hidden in a dark past.

One day, my wife and I were riding north along Bayou Lafourche, a route from Thibodaux going toward Napoleonille and Labadieville, past many former plantations that still have large trees. These were the plantations where many black people from here lived and worked at one time or another.

If these trees could talk, my wife said.

I asked what she meant.

I wonder how many blacks have been hanged in some of those trees, she said. It was an emotional moment, and I was speechless.

The answers to those questions are difficult to find without people willing to labor to uncover the truth.

And so, I thank God for those with the courage and bravery to stand up for what they believe is good and right for the people. I also thank God for the bravery, courage, love and respect displayed by everyone who worked so hard to find the truth about this horrible, dark past and speak for those who cannot speak for themselves. That is what history is all abouttelling their story. Let us learn from the past, and let us not repeat it.

BURNELL TOLBERT
President, Lafourche Parish Branch of the
National Association for the Advancement of Colored People
Thibodaux, Louisiana, May 2016

PREFACE

My first knowledge that a mass murder of black plantation workers occurred in Thibodaux, Louisiana, came in 1995, shortly after I began work for The Courier, a newspaper in nearby Houma then owned by the New York Times. Details were scant. Various accounts placed the number of dead as high as three hundred. As a reporter whose work included extensive coverage of more recent racially motivated crimes, in New York City and elsewhere, I certainly wanted to know more.

Records, such as they were, were consulted. There was a paucity of details that might act as guideposts. I asked questions, plumbing generational memories, and found that perceptions of the atrocitys severity were very much split along racial lines. Whites who were at all aware of the event downplayed its brutality and significance. Blacks with such knowledge tended to side with more sensational accounts. Elderly people acknowledged that something had occurred, but it became clear they had not passed any of what they knew on to their children or grandchildren.

Several scholarly works had provided accounts, often using similar primary material, and these offered something of a roadmap. My hope had been to independently determine enough in the way of verifiable fact to provide an account relevant to present-day readers. In 2011, I left The Courier and its sister publication, the Thibodaux Daily Comet, and, after a two-year hiatus, went to work for the Tri-Parish Times, later to become the Times of Houma, a newspaper owned by Rushing Media, a private local company.

The 2015 murders of nine innocent people at Mother Emmanuel AME Church in Charleston, South Carolina, and the resulting national dialogue resounded even in extreme south Louisiana. A decision by the New Orleans City Council to order statues of Confederate heroes removed as public nuisances intensified debate, and with my editor, Shell Armstrong, a decision was made to present, as contextually as possible, the story of Thibodauxs bloody secret on the newspapers pages. The article was written and drew attention. I was then contacted by Amanda Irle of The History Press, who asked if I was interested in writing a book on the subject.

I jumped at the chance but was seized by fear of inadequacy. What could I do, I wondered, other than present what had already been reported except in longer form? What new facts could be plumbed other than what I had already discovered over those twenty years of curiosity and frustration?

When the commitment was made, a key appeared to turn in some metaphysical lock. From the archives of Nicholls State University appeared a long-lost list of eight victims, likely far fewer than the actual death toll but enough to allow further investigation. Reviews of census lists and interviews revealed more information, which led to further research. A trail of historical crumbs led to the pension files of Jack Conrad, a former slave and veteran of the U.S. Colored Troops, who was shot and wounded in the massacre.