On one of the
terrible, and then one of the great, American moments.
As part of my
Veteran’s Week series, I wrote about the frustrating contradiction embodied by African
American World War I soldiers—the way in which their impressive collective
service gave way to continued discrimination and mistreatment once they were
back stateside. Those responses were made possible, or at least greatly
enabled, by the nation’s ability to forget the soldiers’ service, to write this
hugely inspiring history right out of our communal memories (despite the best
efforts of writers and
leaders like W.E.B. Du Bois). And it’s important to note that such post-war
communal forgetting and elision had happened before, and in an even more overtly
ironic way: the forgetting and elision of the histories and stories of the more
than 180,000 African Americans who served as US
Colored Troops during the Civil War.
Given all the
challenges faced by those African American Civil War soldiers, given Abraham
Lincoln’s clear crediting of them with helping turn the tide of the war,
and given the freakin’ overarching cause of the war itself, our immediate and
absolute forgetting and elision of this community of veterans was and remains a
national disgrace and shame. And while those processes unfolded over many
years, they also can be localized in one specific and very telling moment: the May
23-24, 1865 Grand Review of the Armies in Washington, DC, in which over two
hundred thousand Union veterans marched from the Capitol to the White House—and
for which not a single USCT soldier was invited or allowed to participate. It’s
impossible to know whether Abraham Lincoln, had he lived, would have permitted
the Grand Review to develop in that way; but it’s certainly fair to link the
moment and exclusion directly to the immediate post-war changes in
Reconstruction plans and goals enacted
by the Andrew Johnson administration and much of the rest of the federal
government.
If the Grand
Review was thus a low moment in American history, it also led, six months
later, to one of our high points: Harrisburg’s Grand
Review of Black Troops. On November 14, 1865, Harrisburg’s own Thomas
Morris Chester—Civil War journalist, recruiter, and leader; son of an
escaped slave who would go on to study law and become an educational leader and
much more; one of America’s most inspiring figures by any measure—served as
grand marshal for a parade of US Colored Troops, who marched through the city
to the home of former secretary of war Simon
Cameron (who reviewed and thanked the troops). Speeches by Octavius Catto, William
Howard Day, and other luminaries helped frame the moment’s true historical,
social, and national significance. And significant it was and remains: while it’s
vital to remember, and rage against, the way in which the African American
soldiers and veterans were forgotten and elided in our collective memories,
then and (to at least too great of an extent) now, it’s just as important to
remember the kinds of inspiring alternative histories and communities
represented by great moments like Harrisburg’s Grand Review.
Next Harrisburg
history tomorrow,
Ben
PS. What do you
think?
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