IV

We have found no hurt or harm to either race. This ends our inquiry. It is not for us to adjudge the policy as right or wrong—that the Commonwealth of Virginia shall determine for itself.

Last of the four cases to be heard was in Delaware, where the State Chancellor on April 1, 1952, entered an order directing the admission of a number of Negro children to the public schools of New Castle County on a nondiscriminatory basis (87 A.2d 862). The evidence was not in dispute: The colored high school students were denied admission to Claymont High School and were required instead to attend Howard High School in neighboring Wilmington. Elementary pupils were barred from Hockessin School No. 29 and required instead to attend the all-Negro Hockessin School No. 107. The Chancellor found that inequalities did in fact exist, in teacher training, pupil-teacher ratio, extracurricular activities, transportation, physical plant, and the like. Though he was inclined to agree that segregation in itself “results in Negro children, as a class, receiving educational opportunities which are substantially inferior to those available to white children,” the Chancellor was unwilling to decide the case on this new ground. On the merits of their case alone, under the separate-but-equal rule, the Negro plaintiffs were entitled to immediate relief. On August 28, 1952, the Supreme Court of Delaware affirmed (91 A. [2d] 127). And the Supreme Court of the United States, having granted certiorari in each of the cases, set them for joint argument December 9-11, 1952.

The Supreme Court of the United States then was headed by Fred M. Vinson of Kentucky, as Chief Justice. Others who heard the ten hours of argument that December were Hugo L. Black of Alabama, Felix Frankfurter of Massachusetts, William O. Douglas of Connecticut, Robert H. Jackson of New York, Harold H. Burton of Ohio, Tom C. Clark of Texas, Sherman Minton of Indiana, and Stanley Reed of Kentucky.

It is difficult—impossible might be a better word—to guess at the outcome of a Supreme Court case by attempting to read the minds of the judges through the questions asked from the bench. Here, however, it seemed unusually clear that the court was seriously divided. Burton indicated the course that ultimately was to be taken. During argument on the Topeka case, he put a question to Paul E. Wilson, assistant attorney general of Kansas: “Don’t you recognize it as possible that in seventy-five years the social and economic conditions of the Nation have changed so that which might have been a valid interpretation of the Fourteenth Amendment seventy-five years ago would not be valid today?” Wilson replied that he recognized the possibility, but did not believe the record disclosed such a change. Evidently recalling some of Judge Parker’s language in the Clarendon County decision, Burton persisted: “But that might be different from saying that these courts of appeals and State supreme courts have been wrong for seventy-five years?” Wilson agreed, but made the point that until the Supreme Court itself overturned its own precedents, no other guide to the law was available. When John W. Davis arose to argue the South Carolina appeal, Burton put the same question to him. Davis said: “My answer to that is that changed conditions may affect policy, but changed conditions cannot broaden the terminology of the Constitution.” Changes in social or economic conditions, Davis thought, raised “an administrative or political question, not a judicial one.” Burton subsided with a remark that he viewed the Constitution as a living document “that must be interpreted in relation to the facts of the times in which it is interpreted.”

Pointedly stating a conflicting view, Frankfurter interrupted Thurgood Marshall’s argument at one point to recall that the court recently had upheld the power of Louisiana to restrict the calling of river pilots “to the question of who your father was.” The court sustained that legislation, he said, “not because we thought it admirable or because we believed in primogeniture, but because it was so imbedded in the history of that problem in Louisiana that we thought on the whole that was an allowable justification.”

At the conclusion of the argument, attorneys on both sides were hopeful. The Negro forces felt reasonably certain they had Douglas, Black, and Burton; the State attorneys thought they had impressed Jackson, Minton, Frankfurter, and probably Clark. Vinson and Reed were question marks. It was anticipated that a decision would be handed down by a divided court some time in March or April.

Instead, time ran on until June 8, 1953, when the court, unable to reach any decision on which a majority of the court could agree, set the case for reargument on five questions. Two of the questions were technical in nature: Assuming it were decided that segregation in itself violates the Fourteenth Amendment, how should decrees be formulated? How should the cases be handled on remand to the lower courts? The other three questions went to the very heart of American constitutional law.

Question 1: What evidence is there that the Congress which submitted and the State legislatures and conventions which ratified the Fourteenth Amendment contemplated or did not contemplate, understood or did not understand, that it would abolish segregation in public schools?

The Supreme Court posed this first question, in theory at least, for one reason only: Its object was to determine whether the power to operate racially separate schools ever had been prohibited to the Statesby the Constitution; for if this power had not been prohibited to the States by the Constitution, it was theirs to exercise respectively, for good or ill. (It was conceded that the power never had beenprohibited to them by any law of the United States adopted pursuant to the Constitution). Obviously, nothing in the Constitution possibly could prohibit this power to the States except Section 1 of the Fourteenth Amendment. This section imposes three prohibitions on the States: (1) No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; (2) nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property without due process of law; (3) nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.

In point of fact, it was only the third of these prohibitions that concerned the court. (A right to attend school in any particular State is not a privilege of a “citizen of the United States,” but of a citizen of the State in question; and only by rather far-fetched reasoning could it be contended that by placing white children in one school and Negro children in another school, a State was depriving any person of life, liberty, or property without due process of law. From the beginning, the plaintiffs’ case rested in an assertion that equal protection had been denied the Negro pupils.) How was the court to be advised if this provision of the Fourteenth Amendment prohibited to the States the power to operate racially separate schools? Only one procedure is known to the law; it is the procedure used by the Supreme Court and by other courts from the very beginning of the Republic:It is to determine the intent of the framers.What did the Congress and the ratifying States mean by the Fourteenth Amendment? In terms of racially separate public schools, what did they intend the amendment to accomplish? What was their understanding? In construing a written Constitution, an inquiry into intent is paramount. Cooley’sLimitationsstates the rule in this fashion:

A cardinal rule in dealing with written instruments is that they are to receive an unvarying interpretation, and that their practical construction is to be uniform. A Constitution is not to be made to mean one thing at one time, and another at some subsequent time when the circumstances may have so changed as perhaps to make a different rule in the case seem desirable. A principal share of the benefit expected from written Constitutionswould be lost if the rules they established were so flexible as to bend to circumstances or be modified by public opinion. It is with special reference to the varying moods of public opinion, and with a view to putting the fundamentals of government beyond their control, that these instruments are framed; and there can be no such steady and imperceptible change in their rules as inheres in the principles of the common law. These beneficent maxims of the common law which guard person and property have grown and expanded until they mean vastly more to us than they did to our ancestors, and are more minute, particular, and pervading in their protections; and we may confidently look forward in the future to still further modifications in the direction of improvement. Public sentiment and action effect such changes, and the courts recognize them; but a court or legislature which should allow a change in public sentiment to influence it in giving construction to a written Constitution not warranted by the intention of its founders, would be justly chargeable with reckless disregard of official oath and public duty.... What a court is to do, therefore, is to declare the law as written, leaving it to the people themselves to make such changes as new circumstances may require. The meaning of the Constitution is fixed when it is adopted, and it is not different at any subsequent time when a court has occasion to pass upon it.

Chief Justice Taney made the same point in theDred Scottcase (19 Howard 393). It had been argued (this was in 1857) that public attitudes had changed enormously toward the Negro since the adoption of the Constitution sixty-eight years earlier. But should this shift in public attitude induce the court “to give to the words of the Constitution a more liberal construction in their favor than they were intended to bear when the instrument was framed and adopted”? Taney thought such an argument “altogether inadmissible” in any tribunal called upon to interpret the Constitution:

If any of its provisions are deemed unjust, there is a mode prescribed in the instrument itself by which it may be amended; but while it remains unaltered, it must be construed now as it was understood at the time of itsadoption. It is not only the same in words, but the same in meaning, and delegates the same powers to the government, and reserves and secures the same rights and privileges to the citizen; and as long as it continues to exist in its present form, it speaks not only in the same words, but with the same meaning and intent with which it spoke when it came from the hands of its framers, and was voted on and adopted by the people of the United States. Any other rule of construction would abrogate the judicial character of this court, and make it the mere reflex of the popular opinion or passion of the day. This court was not created by the Constitution for such purposes.

Many other authorities, over a span of generations, have said substantially the same thing about the necessity of courts’ holding steadfastly to the demonstrable intention of a constitutional provision. “The ultimate touchstone of constitutionality,” Frankfurter once asserted, “is the Constitution itself and not what we have said about it” (306 U. S. 491). Hughes urged his colleagues not to be swayed by arguments that extraordinary events may justify abandonment of the rule: “Extraordinary conditions do not create or enlarge constitutional power” (245 U. S. 495). Douglas, dissenting inNew Yorkv.the United States(326 U. S. 572), sternly lectured his brothers on their obligations in this regard; when a constitutional rule is to be fashioned that undermines the long-understood sovereignty of the States, he said, it ought never to be done by judicial construction: “Any such change should be accomplished only by constitutional amendment.”

This solid principle of constitutional law was in the court’s mind that day in June 1953 when it asked for reargument in the School Segregation Cases. What happened to the principle thereafter is sadly apparent: The court tossed it summarily to one side. But briefly, at least, the court recognized that in constitutional cases, clocks must always be turned back.

The NAACP, on behalf of the Negro plaintiffs, did its dead-level best to come up with some history to support its case. The story of the plaintiffs’ exertions was confessed onDecember 28, 1961, by Professor Alfred H. Kelly, of Wayne State University in Detroit, in an address before the annual meeting of the American Historical Association in Washington. Excerpts from his address were reprinted in theU. S. News & World Reportof February 5, 1962. They provide a fascinating, and a sobering, revelation of what Negrophile zeal can do to an honest man.

“One day in early July, 1953,” Professor Kelly began, “I received a letter from Mr. Thurgood Marshall.”

Marshall wanted Professor Kelly to prepare a research paper that would support the NAACP’s answer to the first question posed by the court. At stake was the venerable “separate but equal” rule, to which Professor Kelly, as a person, was deeply opposed. Marshall explained that the rule was crumbling and about to fall; but if the rule were to be overthrown after all these years, “it would entail a piece of judicial lawmaking which could be justified only by a philosophy of extreme judicial activism—and this at the hands of a Court wherein several expressed their disapproval of judicial activism and lawmaking by Court-made fiat.” But if this revolution in the legal status of the Negro were to be achieved, the attempt had to be made—and Dr. Kelly was ready to help make it. After all, both the lawyers and the scholars at work on the case agreed that the old rule had to be disposed of—but how? Dr. Kelly paraphrased their dilemma:

We would like to dispose of the Plessy rule, for once and for all....But we are fearfully embarrassed by the apparent historical absurdity of such an interpretation of the Fourteenth Amendment and equally embarrassed by the obvious charge that the Court will be “legislating” if it simply imposes a new meaning on the Amendment without regard to historical intent.

We would like to dispose of the Plessy rule, for once and for all....

But we are fearfully embarrassed by the apparent historical absurdity of such an interpretation of the Fourteenth Amendment and equally embarrassed by the obvious charge that the Court will be “legislating” if it simply imposes a new meaning on the Amendment without regard to historical intent.

How to escape from this embarrassment? Why, historians must produce for the NAACP a plausible historical argument to justify the court in pronouncing (a) that the intent of the Fourteenth Amendment in this regard was unclear, or (b) that the amendment really had been intended, allalong, to abolish school segregation, or at least to sanction its abolition by judicial fiat.

So Dr. Kelly went to work. As a constitutional historian, he acknowledged what the South’s attorneys were to contend, that the Fourteenth Amendment was the direct outgrowth of the Civil Rights Act of 1866. He did what a Southern lawyer or anyone else would do under the circumstances: He went to theCongressional Globefor the first session of the Thirty-ninth Congress of 1866 and read the debates himself. To his intense dismay, he found theGlobe“had a good deal to say about school segregation.” And at first blush, “most of what appeared there looked rather decidedly bad....” Indeed, it looked as if John W. Davis, arguing the case for the South Carolina defendants, “would win the historical argument hands down!”

But Dr. Kelly spat on his hands and went to work. In the course of time, by his own candid and tortured admission, “I ceased to function as a historian, and, instead, took up the practice of law without a license.”

The problem we faced was not the historian’s discovery of truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth; the problem instead was the formulation of an adequate gloss on the fateful events of 1866 sufficient to convince the Court that we had something of an historical case....It is not that we were engaged in formulating lies; there was nothing as crude and naive as that. But we were using facts, emphasizing facts, bearing down on facts, sliding off facts, quietly ignoring facts and, above all, interpreting facts in a way to do what Marshall said we had to do—“get by those boys down there.”

It is not that we were engaged in formulating lies; there was nothing as crude and naive as that. But we were using facts, emphasizing facts, bearing down on facts, sliding off facts, quietly ignoring facts and, above all, interpreting facts in a way to do what Marshall said we had to do—“get by those boys down there.”

Charitably, a curtain may be drawn over the agonizing sessions that Dr. Kelly and his associates, sincerely wedded to a social and legal cause, spent in pacing up and down a suite in the NAACP’s headquarters on West 40th Street in New York, dictating and arguing and glossing over, “hammering out a strategy” that would contain some essential measure of historical truth, but yet ... but yet....

They produced a 235-page brief. It must stand as a pathetic monument to what happens when historians cease to be historiansand take up the unlicensed practice of law. The conclusions there drawn, that the “proponents of absolute equalitarianism emerged victorious in the Civil War and controlled the Congress that wrote the Fourteenth Amendment,” are a bitter travesty upon the actual course of events. For it is plain to any objective student—to any man who will stand still long enough to ask and receive an answer to the elementary question,What happened?—that no such thing occurred. The visible, palpable, unrelenting, unavoidable truth is that Sumner and Stevens and their fellow radicals did not control the Congress in 1866; they didnotget what they wanted in the Fourteenth Amendment; they got half a loaf at most: And the proof of the pudding may be found where it always lies, in what happened after the amendment was adopted.

The answer to the court’s first question is perfectly clear:Of coursethe Congress that submitted the Fourteenth Amendment, and the States that ratified it, did not contemplate or understand that the amendment prohibited to the States the power to maintain segregation in the public schools. If they had contemplated or understood this, they would have abolished such segregation where it existed and shunned it in the schools thereafter. In the simple, homely, undeniable fact that such segregation was not abolished but rather was widely continued lies a complete answer to the court’s question. It should have been a complete answer to the whole case.

Evidence to support this view may be adduced overwhelmingly from three principal sources: (1) Actions of the Congress itself; (2) actions of the State legislatures and constitutional conventions; and (3) decisions of State and Federal courts in the period immediately following adoption of the amendment.

1. Actions of the Congress itself.The Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution, prohibiting slavery within the United States, or in any place subject to their jurisdiction, was proposed by the Congress on January 31, 1865, two months before Lee’s surrender at Appomattox was to end the War for Southern Independence. Northern States promptly set the ratification process in motion, and with a cessation of hostilities in April, Southern States came along. During thefirst week of December 1865, barely ten months after the Thirteenth Amendment had been proposed, the assents of Alabama, North Carolina, and Georgia brought the number of ratifications to twenty-seven—three-fourths of the thirty-six States regarded as then “in the Union” for constitutional purposes. On December 18, 1865, Secretary Seward declared the Thirteenth Amendment a part of the Constitution.

The Southern States that had been counted as never having left the Union, for purposes of ratifying the Thirteenth Amendment, soon discovered that for other purposes they were still out of the Union. They were denied what the Constitution promises every State—representation in the Congress by at least one member of the House and two members of the Senate—and they were permitted no hand in framing the second Reconstruction amendment that was to be submitted the following year. This task became the responsibility of a joint committee of six Senators and nine Congressmen, created in December at the request of Thaddeus Stevens.

During January and February 1866, while the committee was at work in executive sessions, the House and Senate completed action on the First Supplemental Freedmen’s Bureau Bill. The act is important in tracing the meaning of the Fourteenth Amendment, for it explicitly defined the principal civil rights and immunities that were to be under constant discussion in the Congress for the next several months. This law guaranteed to the newly freed Negroes in the Southern States “the right to make and enforce contracts, to sue, be parties, and give evidence; to inherit, purchase, lease, sell, hold and convey real and personal property; and to have full and equal benefit of all laws and proceedings for the security of person and estate.”

The Freedmen’s Bill applied, by its own terms, only to the late Confederacy. Simultaneously, a legislative effort was launched to secure these same civil rights in the country as a whole. On February 2, after bitter debate on its constitutionality, what was to become the Civil Rights Act of 1866 passed the Senate. It went to the House, and in early March was favorably reported by the Judiciary Committee. During floor debate on March 13, Congressman Wilson of Iowa, chairman of the committee in charge of the bill, addressedhimself to the bill’s opening provision, declaring that “there shall be no discrimination in the civil rights or immunities among the inhabitants of any State or Territory of the United States on account of race, color, or previous condition of slavery.” This part of the bill, Wilson said, “will probably excite more opposition than any other.” He undertook to allay apprehensions:

What do these terms mean? Do they mean that in all things civil, social, political, all citizens, without distinction of race or color, shall be equal? By no means can they be so construed....Nor do they mean that ... their children shall attend the same schools. These are not civil rights or immunities.[Emphasis added.]

The Civil Rights Bill passed the House by 111-38 on March 13; it was vetoed on March 27, and passed over the veto on April 9.

These dates are important. Late in February 1866, the Stevens Committee had brought into the House one draft of a proposed Fourteenth Amendment. It had been debated, and then sent back for more work. On April 21, a new draft came before the committee. On April 25, amendments were approved in committee that put the amendment in the form in which it finally was to become part of the Constitution. These changes wrote into Section 1 new prohibitions upon the powers of the States: “No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the law.”

When the proposed constitutional amendment reached the floor of the House on May 8, both its friends and its foes reached remarkable agreement on the amendment’s primary purpose: to nail into the Constitution the Civil Rights Act of 1866 that on April 9 had been passed over the President’s veto. Stevens reminded his radical colleagues that a mere law always was subject to repeal by a majority of the House and Senate: “And I need hardly say that the first time that the South with their copperhead allies obtain the commandof Congress it will be repealed.” An opponent of the resolution, Rogers of New Jersey, said the Stevens measure “is no more than an attempt to embody in the Constitution of the United States that outrageous and miserable civil rights bill....”

On the Senate side, when the resolution came there for debate on May 23, the same view was taken. Howard of Michigan, in charge of the paper, said the object was “to put this question of citizenship and the rights of citizens and freedmen under the civil rights bill beyond the legislative power.” Davis of Kentucky and Henderson of Missouri agreed. On June 8, the Senate voted in favor of the resolution, 33-11, with five Senators not voting; and on June 13 the House, which then had 184 members, completed action by concurring in the Senate amendments, 120-32, with 32 not voting. The House margin was four votes short of the two-thirds required under the Constitution for submitting an amendment, but the resolution was declared to be passed anyhow.

While all this was going on, other matters of course were coming before the Congress. One such matter was a bill passed in the Senate on May 21, providing for segregated schools in the District of Columbia. A companion bill, introduced in April, adopted in May, made effective in July, appropriated funds to the Negroes’ segregated schools. And year after year, from that time on until 1954, the Congress continued to provide for racially separate schools in the District of Columbia.

Not one iota of evidence can be adduced from the annals of Congress in 1866 to show that any responsible member of the House or Senate believed the Fourteenth Amendment in any fashion would affect the operation of segregated schools in the States. All that Negro counsel could produce in their reargument on the point in 1953, despite the desperate labors of Dr. Kelly and his associates, were some generalities, some sweeping statements of ideals, and other nebulous expressions on the part of radical abolitionists on the one hand and apprehensive States’ Righters on the other. It is plain that the Stevens-Sumner group won from the Thirty-ninth Congress two compromise instruments, a statuteand a constitutional amendment, both intended to guarantee to the Negro the essential civil rights spelled out in the Freedmen’s Bill and in the Civil Rights Act—to sue and be sued, to own and inherit property, and the like. “The right to go to school,” as Senator Trumbull of Pennsylvania was to say in 1872 in debating the General Amnesty Act, “is not a civil right and never was.”

2. Actions of the State legislatures and constitutional conventions.The proposed Fourteenth Amendment to the Constitution went out to the States on June 18, 1866. Connecticut ratified on June 30, New Hampshire on July 6, Tennessee on July 19. New Jersey and Oregon, both of whom later were to rescind their actions, ratified in September. Then came a jolt: On October 27, Texas flatly rejected the proposed amendment, by a vote of 70 to 5 in the House and 27 to 1 in the Texas Senate. Vermont ratified on October 30, but on November 1 Georgia rejected by 147-2 and 38-0 in its House and Senate. Then, in rapid succession, Arkansas, Florida, North Carolina, and South Carolina spurned the amendment. In January 1867, Virginia, Mississippi, Kentucky, and Maryland rejected. Early in February, Delaware and Louisiana turned it down also.

On March 2, 1867, an infuriated Congress enacted over Johnson’s veto a law that seems incredible by any standpoint of constitutional law. This “Act to Provide for the More Efficient Government of the Rebel States” further defined the districts that had been created in the former Confederacy by earlier Reconstruction acts. Section 5 of the Act fixed two requirements for readmission of the Southern States to full standing in the Union. The first condition was that each of the States adopt a new State Constitution; the second was that, at the first legislature to be held after adoption of the new Constitution, each State must ratify the Fourteenth Amendment. Delegates to the State constitutional conventions were to be chosen by all male citizens regardless of race, except felons and those who had participated in the “rebellion.” No Confederate veteran who earlier had been a member of a State legislature, or held any other office underthe government of a Southern State, could become a candidate for the new legislatures to be elected.

With that vindictive and extortionate act, military government settled upon the South and all semblance of free republican government vanished. With no alternative but to submit or remain under the sword, the Southern States accepted the amendment. Arkansas ratified in April 1868, Florida on June 9, North Carolina, South Carolina, Alabama, and Louisiana in July. Meanwhile, Ohio on January 13, 1868, had undertaken to rescind its ratification of the amendment, and New Jersey, on March 25, had done the same thing. In both States, recently the bitter foes of the South, the new amendment was denounced as unconstitutionally approved in the House of Representatives and unconstitutionally demanded of the Southern States. (It was several months later, in October 1868, that Oregon also attempted to rescind its ratification.)

On July 20, 1868, Secretary Seward issued a cautious proclamation certifying that the Fourteenth Amendment had been ratified. There were, he surmised, thirty-seven States then “in the Union.” Twenty-eight, by Seward’s count, had approved the amendment, but he was doubtful about the whole affair. Among his twenty-eight were Arkansas, Florida, North Carolina, Louisiana, and South Carolina, where ratification had been sanctioned by “newly constituted and newly established bodies avowing themselves to be acting as the legislatures” of these States. If their resolutions were valid, and if the original ratifications of Ohio and New Jersey were still valid, notwithstanding their subsequent withdrawals, the amendment was a part of the Constitution.

On the following day, July 21, Congress passed a joint resolution to resolve Seward’s doubts. It ordered him to declare the amendment unconditionally adopted; and on July 28, adding the names of Alabama and Georgia, whose notifications had just been received, Seward declared the Fourteenth officially a part of the Constitution.

Was the Fourteenth Amendment thus legally and constitutionally added to the Constitution in 1868? It is exceedingly doubtful. Neither a resolution of the Congress nor aproclamation of a Secretary of State can supersede the Constitution itself. If the States of Arkansas, Florida, North Carolina, Alabama, South Carolina, and Louisiana were “in the Union” in 1865, when their ratifications of the Thirteenth Amendment were counted among the three-fourths necessary to adoption, it is impossible to understand how they legally could have been read out of the Union by the act of March 2, 1867, put under military dictatorship, and ordered to ratify the Fourteenth Amendment under duress. If the Confederate States are eliminated from the equation altogether, a mathematical case can be made to support ratification. Twenty-five States were represented in the Thirty-ninth Congress that proposed the Fourteenth Amendment in 1866. Nebraska was admitted to the Union March 1, 1867. Three-fourths of twenty-six States (for ratification purposes) is twenty States. By the time of the proclamations and resolutions of July 1868, twenty-one States outside the South had unconditionally ratified the amendment. But the assumption on which the Congress proceeded was that there were thirty-seven States in the Union in the summer of 1868. Three-fourths of thirty-seven States (for ratification purposes) is twenty-eight States. In order to count twenty-eight States, the ratifications of the rescinding New Jersey and Ohio must be added to those of Arkansas, Florida, North Carolina, Louisiana, and South Carolina; or, in place of New Jersey and Ohio, the ratifications of Alabama and Georgia may be substituted. In any event, reliance must be placed upon the coerced ratifications of either five or seven Southern States which at that time were denied a republican government, denied representation in the Congress, and denied the right to act freely upon the proposed amendment. This is the tainted parenthood of the constitutional provision on which the Supreme Court of the United States, in the school cases, sought to be informed.

I digress. The question here is, “What evidence is there that the ... State legislatures and conventions which ratified the Fourteenth Amendment contemplated or did not contemplate, understood or did not understand, that it would abolish segregation in public schools?”

This is the evidence:

Among the States that ratified the Fourteenth Amendment were these twelve: Connecticut, Iowa, Maine, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Nebraska, New Hampshire, Oregon, Rhode Island, Vermont, and Wisconsin. There is not a scrap of evidence to suggest that the issue of school segregation ever was considered in any of them. Rhode Island, Connecticut, and Michigan were the only States in this group with as much as 2 per cent Negro population in 1870 (Rhode Island had 5000 Negroes out of 217,000; Connecticut had 9668 Negroes in a population of 537,000; Michigan a Negro population of 11,849 in a total of 1,184,000.) The rest ranged down to the 346 Negroes then resident in Oregon and the 789 then resident in Nebraska. School segregation simply was no problem in these States in 1866. The question never was discussed.

Two other States that ratified the Fourteenth Amendment were Florida and Louisiana. Both houses of Florida’s legislature, when they were in a position to act freely, rejected the amendment unanimously. This was in December 1866. The following March came the Reconstruction Act, and in the course of time came a State constitutional convention set up by military decree. It was comprised of eighteen Negroes and twenty-seven Carpetbaggers and Scalawags. On June 9, 1868, the Governor of Florida dispatched to a similarly chosen legislature a message recommending “that no action be taken save that dictated by the acts of Congress as conditions precedent to admission, to wit: The passage of the proposed amendment to the Constitution, known as the Fourteenth Article....” The Florida legislature submissively ratified the amendment, 23-6 in the House, 10-3 in the Senate. Public schools were set up, with no statutory or constitutional provision to prevent their joint use by both races; but the evidence is persuasive that no integration ever occurred in this period, and in 1885, when an end to Reconstruction permitted Florida to follow the separate-but-equal pattern which by then had been solidly established elsewhere, the Florida Constitution was amended to provide that “white and colored children shall not be taught in the same school, but impartialprovision shall be made for both.” Certainly Florida did not understand that the amendment, of and by itself, prohibited the States from requiring racial separation in the schools.

The situation in Louisiana was more chaotic still. The Louisiana legislature unanimously rejected the amendment in February 1867. Reconstruction followed. A constitutional convention was created, composed of forty-nine Negroes and forty-nine Carpetbaggers and Scalawags; it wrote a provision into the Louisiana Constitution that “all children ... shall be admitted to the public schools in common, without distinction of race, color, or previous condition. There shall be no separate schools or institutions of learning established exclusively for any race by the State of Louisiana.” But this language in a coerced State Constitution was ignored by the people. In 1870, the Superintendent of Public Instruction was to complain that the constitutional provision “excites a determined opposition on the part of many who would otherwise cooperate in the opening of schools and in the raising of funds for their support.” As the years passed, Louisiana established a system of racially separate public schools, in accordance with the demonstrable understanding of the Fourteenth Amendment elsewhere in the Union, and a freely chosen constitutional convention in 1898 made segregation mandatory.

Florida and Louisiana have been here singled out, because the confused record in the two States offers the best opportunity—indeed, the only opportunity—for a case to be made thatanyof the States ever understood or contemplated that the Fourteenth Amendment might in any fashion serve to prohibit the operation of racially separate schools. If evidence cannot be adduced here, it cannot be adduced anywhere. And this poor, scanty record of actions taken under duress—and later repudiated under freedom—is the best that hard-laboring historians can produce.

What of the other States? In twenty-three other States, positive evidence is available that neither the State conventions nor the State legislatures at any time ever understood or contemplated that the Fourteenth Amendment prohibited them from establishing racially separate schools.

Look at the record,first in terms of States outside the South:

Californiatook no action on the Fourteenth Amendment, but it established racially separate schools by statute in 1870, two years after the amendment had been ratified.

Delawarerefused to ratify the amendment, and made no provision for Negro education of any sort until 1881. Then separate Negro schools were established, and Delaware’s constitution of 1897 made segregation mandatory. How can it be contended that Delaware understood the Fourteenth Amendment to prohibit separate schools?

Illinoisrefused to admit Negroes to any schools at the time of its ratification of the Fourteenth Amendment. It was not until five years later that a general school law admitted them to educational facilities—some segregated, others integrated. Segregated schools persisted at least until 1884, when the Supreme Court of Illinois acknowledged the operation of segregated institutions, and ruled them in violation of a State law that had been passed in the interim. But no court or legislature in Illinois ever asserted that such schools were in violation of the Fourteenth Amendment.

Indianaratified the Fourteenth Amendment in June 1867, following a message from Governor Morton specifically advocating “the establishment of separate schools,” because “I could not recommend that white and colored children be placed together in the same schools.” And it was not until 1949—eighty-one years after adoption of the Fourteenth Amendment—that Indiana formally abandoned segregation in its schools.

New Jerseywas another Northern State in which racially separate schools were continued long after adoption of the Fourteenth Amendment. It was not until 1881 that the legislature prohibited their operation, but when this statute was construed three years later, no mention of any sort was made of the Fourteenth Amendment.

New York.What of New York? The State ratified the Fourteenth in January 1867, and later the same year convened a constitutional convention at which a ringing declaration was adopted in favor of civil rights—but there was nota word in this declaration in support of racially integrated schools. On the contrary, separate schools were specifically permitted in New York until 1900—thirty-two years after the Fourteenth Amendment became part of the Constitution. Can it be seriously contended that New York understood or contemplated that the amendment in and of itself would abolish school segregation?

To bring these Northern examples to an end, consider Ohio, Pennsylvania, and West Virginia.Ohiohad racially separate schools at the time it ratified in 1867; such schools specifically were continued by a statute of 1874, and the system was not discarded by State law until 1887.Pennsylvaniaalso had a system of segregated schools at the time of its ratification in 1867; the legislature continued the system by statute in 1869; the system was not abolished until 1881.West Virginia’slegislature ratified the Fourteenth on January 16, 1867. On February 27, precisely six weeks later, the same legislature adopted a statute providing that “white and colored persons shall not be taught in the same schools.” What is one to say of West Virginia’s understanding of the meaning of the Fourteenth Amendment?

Action of the Southern States was entirely in accord with the understanding thus demonstrated by their recent enemies in the North. To summarize these briefly:

Alabamaratified under coercion on July 13, 1868; but less than a month later, on August 11, 1868, the same legislature—even though it was dominated by Negroes and Carpetbaggers—enacted a law prohibiting mixed schools “unless it be by the unanimous consent of the parents and guardians of such children.”

Arkansasratified on April 6, 1868. The same military legislature on July 23, 1868, passed a statute directing the State Board of Education to “make the necessary provisions for establishing separate schools for white and colored children.”

Georgiaratified twice, once in 1868 and again in 1870. The latter legislature still was under Reconstruction rule; a majority of both houses were Republicans. But even this legislature, immediately after its renewed ratification of 1870, adopted a school act providing that “the children of thewhite and colored races shall not be taught together in any sub-district of the State.”

Kentucky, not subject to military reconstruction, rejected the Fourteenth in January 1867. The same legislature provided for racially separate schools, and the State’s constitution of 1891 required them.

Mississippi’slegislature, dominated by Republicans and Negroes, ratified the Amendment in 1870 and simultaneously provided for a public school system. It was a segregated system, though the law did not require this specifically. Segregation was made mandatory in the schools in 1878.

North Carolinaratified in July 1868. The following winter saw enactment of a statute directing local school authorities to establish “separate schools for the instruction of children and youth of each race.”

South Carolina’sReconstruction constitutional convention (seventy-six Negroes, forty-eight Carpetbaggers) directed the forthcoming State legislature to establish a public school system free to all children “without regard to race or color,” but the Reconstruction legislature (only twenty-two of its 155 members could read or write) paid no attention to the provision. The Governor was a brevet brigadier general from Maine, Robert K. Scott. In his Inaugural Address he told the assembled illiterate Negroes and white legislators quite frankly that he deemed racial separation in the schools “of the greatest importance to all classes of our people.” Listen to what this Union Governor of South Carolina said, on the very day after the South Carolina legislature had ratified the Fourteenth Amendment:

While the moralist and philanthropist cheerfully recognizes the fact that “God hath made of one blood all nations of men” yet the statesman in legislating for a political society that embraces two distinct, and in some measure, antagonistic races, in the great body of its electors, must, as far as the law of equal rights will permit, take cognizance of existing prejudices among both. In school districts, where the white children may be preponderate in numbers, the colored children may be oppressed, or partially excluded from the schools, while the same result may accrue to the whites, in those districtswhere colored children are in the majority,unless they shall be separated by law as herein recommended. [Emphasissupplied.]

South Carolina’s legislature adopted Governor Scott’s recommendation. A Massachusetts Negro became State Superintendent of Public Instruction; and he presided over the establishment of a system of segregated schools.

A reconstructed legislature inTexasratified the Fourteenth Amendment in February 1870. The same legislature provided for public schools to be operated by trustees who “may make any separation of the students or schools necessary to insure success.” Segregated schools were made mandatory in Texas by the Constitution of 1876.

Finally,Virginia. The Old Dominion’s first legislature under the Reconstruction Constitution of 1869 ratified the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments to the Federal Constitution, and then adjourned until the State’s representatives were readmitted to Congress. Then the same legislature reconvened and promptly enacted a statute providing for a system of free schools under a requirement that “white and colored persons shall not be taught in the same schools, but in separate schools.”

What does all this add up to? Simply this: There were thirty-seven States whose “understandings” and “contemplations” of the Fourteenth Amendment at the time of its ratification must be sought. In fourteen of these States (twelve non-Southern States plus Florida and Louisiana), no substantial evidence can be adduced one way or another. In twenty-three of these States (fourteen non-Southern States and nine Southern States), positive evidence exists to show that ratification of the Fourteenth Amendment was never thought to prohibit the operation of racially separate schools. The very legislative bodies that ratified the amendment simultaneously provided for separate schools. In not a single one of the thirty-seven States is there any substantial evidence—or even any flimsy evidence—to show affirmatively that the legislatures that considered the Fourteenth Amendment believed, understood, or contemplated that the amendment in and of itself, would prohibit school segregation.

3. Decisions of State and Federal courts in the period immediately following adoption of the amendment.Confronting this overwhelming evidence, counsel for the Negro plaintiffs desperately attempted to establish what might be called a conspiracy theory, so far as the Southern States were concerned: These States, it was suggested, knew all along that the Fourteenth Amendment was intended to prohibit them from maintaining separate schools, but they conspired to deceive the rest of the nation until they were formally readmitted to the Union and Reconstruction had ended. This theory does not justify even the contempt with which defense counsel brushed it aside. The plain and visible fact is that racially separate schools were everywhere recognized and accepted as fully in compliance with the new constitutional provisions. It is not necessary to seek evidence of this recognition in Southern States alone, nor to rely upon the interpretation that “politicians” may have put upon the amendment here and there. Let us turn from Congress and the State legislatures, and see what the courts said about the meaning of the Fourteenth Amendment in the years immediately following its ratification in 1868.

The clock should be turned back first to 1849, nineteen years before the ratification of the amendment, when Sarah C. Roberts, a five-year-old Negro girl, brought suit against the City of Boston (59 Mass. 198) in the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts. Boston then had two primary schools exclusively for Negroes, one on Belknap Street, in the Eighth School District, the other on Sun Court Street, in the Second. Negroes made up one sixty-second of Boston’s population, but among this one sixty-second was Sarah Roberts, a resident of the Sixth District on Andover Street. She wanted to attend the white school nearest her. Charles Sumner and R. Morris, Jr., brought suit in her behalf, contending as many others were to contend in subsequent years that Sarah had a right to attend her neighborhood school, and that Boston had no right to make classification by race. The suit came on to be heard before Chief Justice Lemuel Shaw and others. This, to repeat, was many years prior to the Fourteenth Amendment, but the question put to the court was to be the question argued many timesthereafter: What are the “privileges” of the individual citizens? Where do the powers of the state end in terms of a racial classification for schoolchildren? This is Boston, 1849:

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