The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials Z39.48-1984.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First and foremost, I have to thank the various contributors to this volume. All of them have been very generous with their time. For some of these authors, lynching is tangential to their larger research projects, while others are more fully immersed in the study of mob violence in the state. Either way, the reader should keep an eye out for future work by these authors. This book is by no means the final word on the subjectthere is so much more to be done.
Mike Bieker and David Scott Cunningham, the director and editor-in-chief, respectively, of the University of Arkansas Press, embraced this project with great zeal and have been very supportive throughout, and it has been wonderful working with the various staff at the press. John David Smith at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte was the editor for my previous book and gave me a lot of good advice for putting this one together. Grif Stockley, probably the states foremost expert on racial violence, has been a constant encouragement throughout my career, as have Carol OConnor and Clyde Miller, under whom I studied in the Heritage Studies PhD program at Arkansas State University. John Kirk, now director of the Joel E. Anderson Institute on Race and Ethnicity at the University of Arkansas at Little Rock, has always been a reliable source of conversation and criticism over a few beers. My friend and colleague Michael Keckhaver contributed the image of fire that serves as part of this books cover. Of course, the anonymous reviewers of this volume offered numerous suggestions for improvement, and I greatly appreciate their thorough analysis.
When I was young and enduring the scourge of braces, I went to an orthodontist whose whole office was decorated with clown paraphernalia. One time, under the influence of some splendid gas, I asked him, Why do you like clowns so much? He leaned in close and said conspiratorially, I dont, actually. See, I had a patient once bring me some little clown picture as a gift, and, being a nice guy, I put it on the wall. Soon thereafter, another patient saw that and, thinking I was into clowns, brought me a littlestatuette, which I also put on display. After that, it just exploded. People thought I liked clowns and brought me more and more. I mention this because, since publishing a few articles and a book relating to racial violence, I, too, have become the recipient of many gifts of newspaper articles, scans from old volumes, and more on the subject, though, given my role here, these are much more useful to me than clown-themed kitsch. So I want to thank everyone who has passed along to me some little bit of information that helps to shed light on the darker recesses of Arkansas history.
Finally, I must thank my wife, Anna, because it is apparently habit to put those most precious to you at the end of the acknowledgments section. For someone who does not have the study of atrocity as her calling, she has not only tolerated my discussing it quite a lot but has always been patient, loving, and encouraging, challenging me to the utmost.
Introduction
GUY LANCASTER
The cedar stump to which Ed Coy was burned has been manufactured into cuff buttons.
Arkansas Gazette, March 11, 1892
Hell is empty and all the devils are here.
William Shakespeare, The Tempest
While researching my previous book on racial cleansing in Arkansas, I spent many hours in front of various microfilm readers, scanning years and years of newspaper headlines hoping to catch sight of some reported event that would explain the dramatic loss of black population in the county in question between two census surveys. As weeks of state and local history flitted by my blurry eyes, I hit a number of stretches in the newspaper record wherein it seemed some new racial atrocity, or rumored race riot, was occurring on a near-daily basis. Headlines shouted the impromptu execution of yet another unfortunate individual, and the pursuit of another anticipated sacrifice by a frenzied posse, and more, and yet more. It proved difficult to pass over these many events and stay focused upon the subject at handspecifically the expulsion of African Americans, a phenomenon that only occasionally overlapped with that of lynching and other mob activitiesamid this wider ecosystem of violence. And I am not the only person who has been taken aback by sheer ubiquity of atrocity reported; as the veteran Arkansas journalist Ernie Dumas once recalled, Some years ago, my friend Bob Lancaster and I started to work on a book that would be a collection of articles from the 172 years of the old Arkansas Gazette that would catch the flavor of the Gray Lady and the Lynching could be both the dramatic atrocity gleefully explicated under lurid headlines and the everyday occurrence that needed no further elaboration.
Much of the public interest when it comes to lynching centers upon the number of victims. While scholars are also concerned with gender and patriarchy, law and order, memory and forgetting, and much more, quantifiable numbers do help us understand the dynamics that underlie lynching both through time and across geographic regions. If more lynchings occurred in one place than another, or more in one year than another, questions arise that help people to understand the shifting nature of mob violence. In his 1999 doctoral dissertation, Racial Violence in Arkansas: Lynchings and Mob Rule, 18601930, Richard Buckelew documented 318 victims of lynching in Arkansas, 231 of whom were black.), which began with data collected over a period of thirty years by Tolnay and E. M. Beck and has since been expanded. The definition of lynching employed by these researchers is that developed by the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People in 1940, which many scholars use and which requires the following: there is evidence that a person was killed; the killing was illegal; at least three people were involved in killing the victim; and the killing was justified with reference to tradition, justice, or honor. This inventory currently records 317 lynching victims in Arkansas between the years 1877 and 1950but, as noted, it is being maintained and supplemented as additional information arrives.
Of course, as partially demonstrated by the various figures given for the body count, what constitutes a lynching remains quite open to debate, and the definition of lynching has shifted over time, as Christopher Waldrep ably documented in his 2002 book, The Many Faces of Judge Lynch: Extralegal Violence and Punishment in America. The word reportedly had its origin in the impromptu trials and punishment of individuals suspected of treason during the Revolutionary War but soon came to apply, by the early nineteenth century, to the whipping of miscreants on the ever-advancing American frontier, typically by people representing the broader community, outside the legal process. The 1835 execution of In fact, Republican leaders worked hard not to describe Klan violence as lynching lest they grant it the authority of the community; as Waldrep goes on to explain,
Understanding why racial violence in the Reconstruction era was not called lynching helps explain the difference between Reconstruction and the lynching era. Reconstruction was a revolutionary time, a time when power as expressed in language was genuinely up for grabs. Once the white population seized power and rallied itself into a racial bloc, then, and only then, could they kill confident that they had the support of what they defined as the community. And they understood a community-sanctioned killing to be a lynching.