On January 24, 1913, the trustees of the Dalcho School, a segregated, all-white public school in Dillon County, South Carolina, summarily dismissed Dudley, Eugene, and Herbert Kirby, ages ten, twelve, and fourteen, respectively. According to testimony offered in a subsequent hearing, the boys had “always properly behaved,” were “good pupils,” and “never …exercise[d] any bad influence in school.”Footnote 1 Moreover, the boys’ overwhelmingly white ancestry, in the words of the South Carolina Supreme Court, technically “entitled [them] to be classified as white,” according to state law.Footnote 2 Nevertheless, because local whites believed that the Kirbys were “not of pure Caucasian blood,” and that therefore their removal was in the segregated school's best interest, the court, in Tucker v. Blease (1914), upheld their expulsion.Footnote 3
This article uses a fine-grained exploration of Tucker v. Blease to make two arguments. First, racial determination law in the early-twentieth-century United States South was strikingly uncertain. In part, this reflected the tradition of federalism, according to which each state set its own rules. But even within the single state examined here, the law's meaning was ambiguous. Different groups of South Carolinians—private and public, local and statewide, legislative and judicial—struggled to control the law of racial determination. Compared to the other jurisdictions considered later in this forum, racial determination in South Carolina was characterized by relatively weak legislative rules, a relatively strong tradition of local control, and an appellate judiciary powerful enough to rewrite even constitutionally mandated rules.
Second, Tucker highlights the role of the legal system in propagating the so-called “black–white paradigm”: the misleading notion that the United States’ racial palette historically has contained only two colors. The Tucker ruling prominently articulated this paradigm by conceptualizing a society containing just two groups: “those with and those without negro blood.”Footnote 4 Hidden beneath the surface of the published opinion, however, was a twist that previous scholars have not perceived.Footnote 5 The Kirby boys were not alleged to have “negro” ancestry, and their neighbors did not seek to send them to segregated “negro” schools. They were alleged to have Croatan Indian ancestry, and their neighbors sought to send them to segregated Indian schools. The legal system, however, acted as an ethnic strainer. By the time the South Carolina Supreme Court decided the case, the dispute's multicultural characteristics had all but disappeared. Subsequent journalists, law reporters, lawyers, and scholars all assumed, wrongly, that the case involved only blacks and whites. In Tucker v. Blease, therefore, the judicial process served as a primitive camera, turning America's multicultural rainbow into grainy black and white.
The Black–White Paradigm
For several decades now, historians have sought to move beyond the “black–white paradigm.” The self-consciousness with which scholars have recently attacked this paradigm contrasts with the imprecision of its creation. No scholar set out to construct it. It crystallized early in the twentieth century, as white ethnic categories merged, as Jim Crow hardened, and as African-Americans and their defenders protested.Footnote 6
The most forceful scholarly articulations of the “black–white paradigm” appeared in the works of racially liberal, mid-twentieth-century writers who emphasized the rigidity of America's racial binary as a means of attacking it. These writers repeatedly contrasted race relations in the United States with those in Latin America. They argued that race relations in the United States were rigid, dualistic, and oppressive, whereas race relations in Latin America were comparatively fluid, multi-hued, and harmonious. Brazil was their favorite example. A cadre of Jim Crow critics discussed the supposed permeability and multiplicity of Brazilian racial categories, and celebrated the relative harmony of race relations there.Footnote 7 “Brazil Has No Race Problem,” African-American sociologist E. Franklin Frazier declared in 1942, as a way of shaming wartime Americans into rethinking Jim Crow.Footnote 8 Another writer similarly asserted in 1949 that “there are no restrictions whatsoever . . . along racial lines in Brazil.”Footnote 9 Even during slavery, historian Stanley Elkins observed in 1959, Spanish and Portuguese colonies in the Americas had been characterized by “a confusing promiscuity of color, such as would never have been thinkable in our own country.”Footnote 10 In Latin America, Elkins contended, “color itself was no grave disability.”Footnote 11
Cross-national comparisons of this sort enabled scholars to portray the United States’ unforgiving “one drop” rule as the exception, not the norm. Jim Crow's oppressive racial binary was neither natural nor inevitable, they argued. Rather, it was troublingly anomalous, making the United States an outlier among the New World's former slave societies. “When, finally, we turn to the South of the United States,” wrote one scholar in the 1960s after surveying various Caribbean societies, “we are struck by the fact” that the “socio racial structure” contained just two categories: Negro and white. In Caribbean societies, this scholar argued, the sociologist “talks of ‘white’, ‘coloured’ and ‘Negro,’” whereas in the Deep South “he . . . talks [only] about ‘white’ and ‘Negro.’”Footnote 12
The notion that “racial democracy” prevailed abroad helped erode support for Jim Crow at home.Footnote 13 Perhaps most famously, Frank Tannenbaum's comparative historical study, Slave and Citizen: The Negro in the Americas (1947), helped to inspire Brooklyn Dodgers General Manager Branch Rickey to add Jackie Robinson to the squad, thus integrating Major League Baseball.Footnote 14
During the final third of the twentieth century, legal, demographic, and cultural changes challenged the scholarly legitimacy of the “black–white paradigm.” After the civil rights laws of the 1960s formally destroyed de jure segregation, champions of racial justice no longer felt the need to reify America's racial binary in order to transcend it. Robust immigration altered America's population and transformed its ethno-racial categorization. No longer was “black” a credible synonym for “non-white” in the United States. Even the once-stable “white” category showed fissures, thanks to a powerful, post-civil rights “white ethnic revival.”Footnote 15 Amid the multiculturalism and identity politics of the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, the “black–white paradigm” appeared both inaccurate and insensitive. A rising tide of scholarship vowed to transcend it. Historical understanding of Mexican-Americans, Asian-Americans, Native Americans, Sicilian-Americans, and many other groups increased dramatically.Footnote 16
Several decades of multicultural scholarship have destroyed the “black–white paradigm.” Few scholars today would endorse liberal historian Carl Degler's 1971 characterization of the United States as merely a “biracial society.”Footnote 17 In 1997, golfing champion Tiger Woods famously described himself as Cablinasian (Caucasian–black–Indian–Asian).Footnote 18 By then, most scholars would have agreed that Woods's nation, too, had long been Cablinasian, and then some.
As a lens for viewing history, the black–white paradigm has rightly been discarded. As a historical artifact, however, it merits further examination. Historians have been so intent on transcending it that they have failed to explain fully how it developed in the first place. They have not fully explained how so binary a racial self-understanding could achieve such prominence in so multicultural a nation.
Legal historians who have addressed this question have demonstrated that courts were central to the paradigm's development. Scholars such as Ian Haney Lopez, Peggy Pascoe, and Ariela Gross have shown that United States judges sometimes acted as black-robed postal workers, sorting a wide variety of ethno-racial groups into just two piles: black and white.Footnote 19 Judges openly declared, for instance, that “Mexicans” should be “classed as of the Caucasian Race,” but that Burmese and Hawaiians should not.Footnote 20
This article furthers historical understanding of the interplay between law and racial categorization in the United States. It uses Tucker v. Blease as a case study to illuminate the central role played by the legal system in the development of the “black–white paradigm.” Existing scholarship emphasizes instances in which courts admitted that they were categorizing diverse racial groups in terms of black and white, as in the aforementioned judicial declaration that “Mexicans are classed as of the Caucasian Race.”Footnote 21 In contrast, the judges in Tucker did not admit what they were doing. They silently filtered out the case's racial complexity, masking its multi-racial character and causing all but local observers to assume, wrongly, that only blacks and whites were involved.
The Croatan Indians of Dillon County
Dillon County, where Tucker v. Blease began, is in northeastern South Carolina, at the point where, today, I-95 enters the state from the north.Footnote 22 (Travelers may recall the well-advertised “South of the Border” tourist stop there.) Across Dillon County's northern border lies Robeson County, North Carolina, a famously “tri-racial county” whose population historically has divided into three groups of roughly equal size: Native Americans, whites, and blacks. Robeson County is the traditional home of the Native American group known today as the Lumbee Indians. In 1885, the North Carolina State Assembly officially recognized this group as the “Croatan Indians of Robeson County.” The state renamed them “Indians of Robeson County” in 1911, “Cherokee Indians of Robeson County” in 1913, and “Lumbee Indians”—after the Lumber River—in 1953.Footnote 23 According to the 1910 census, the Croatans were the seventh largest Indian tribe in the nation, with an official population of about 6,000.Footnote 24 Most Croatans lived in North Carolina's Robeson County.Footnote 25 In 1885, North Carolina mandated that Robeson enact three-way school segregation—white, black, and Indian. Over the years, the Croatan population slowly spread to surrounding counties in both Carolinas. Three-way segregation gradually spread, too.Footnote 26
Dillon County, South Carolina, was among the surrounding counties that contained small pockets of Croatans.Footnote 27 As of 1910, Dillon's population included just under 11,000 whites, just over 11,000 “Negros,” and, according to one unreliable estimate (no estimates are reliable here) 77 Indians.Footnote 28 (This figure was an underestimate. Many South Carolina Indians were listed as “mulattos.” Nonetheless, the Dillon County figure was large enough to account for about one quarter of South Carolina's Indian population, according to the 1910 census.)Footnote 29 Many of Dillon County's Indians were North Carolina Croatans who had migrated across the state line.Footnote 30
Dillon County's Croatans were a recognized local social group. Newspapers routinely labeled them “Croatans” when mentioning them in stories. For example, one 1911 article described an altercation in Dillon County involving “Pierce Allen, white,” “Dave Allen, a negro,” and “Esau Locklear, a Croatan.”Footnote 31 Another story mentioned John Miller, a Dillon County “Croatan” who lived 200 yards from John Coats, “an old Croatan.”Footnote 32 Another story from Dillon County reported that Ed Chavis, “a Croatan,” had shot and wounded Bob Locklear, “Croatan.”Footnote 33
In contrast to North Carolina, which formally recognized its comparatively huge Croatan population, South Carolina did not formally recognize its comparatively tiny one. Whereas North Carolina officially mandated three-way school segregation in Robeson County and some other areas with large Croatan populations, South Carolina, at the state-wide level, consistently employed just two-way school segregation.Footnote 34 Dillon County education officials listed just two sorts of schools: “white” and “Negro,” in accordance with state-wide reporting standards.Footnote 35
At the local level, however, some South Carolina communities quietly enforced three-way school segregation, with separate schools for “whites,” “Negroes,” and “Indians,” respectively. Dillon County's Oakland District No. 5, for instance, supported “a white school, a negro school, and a school for the descendants of the Indian race.”Footnote 36 Where it existed, this localized, three-way school segregation appears to have resulted both from anti-Croatan white racism, and from anti-black Croatan racism.Footnote 37 The reported Croatan disinclination to attend “Negro” schools may have reflected their awareness that Negro schools were dreadfully under-funded. At around this time, Dillon County's annual educational expenditure per white student was $25.56. The comparable figure for “Negro” students in the county was $1.28. Dillon County's racial funding gap was substantially larger than the state-wide average. Whereas Dillon County's per capita educational spending for whites was more than 80% above the state-wide average for whites, its per capita spending for blacks was more than 30% below the state-wide average for blacks. Therefore Indians may have concluded that educational opportunities in the Negro schools were not robust.Footnote 38
The Kirbys
Tucker v. Blease arose in the Dalcho District of Dillon County, one of Dillon County's Croatan population pockets. For a time, Dalcho operated separate schools for whites, “Negroes,” and Indians.Footnote 39 The Indian school, however, failed to retain its teachers and closed. By the time the Kirby children entered the district, only white and “Negro” public schools remained. The Kirbys chose the white option, as they had throughout their lives.Footnote 40
John and Annie Kirby, the parents of Dudley, Eugene, and Herbert, had always lived as “white,” as had their eight children. The Kirbys attended white churches and schools and associated with whites.Footnote 41 The census classified them as white.Footnote 42 By local standards, they were quite well-to-do. At a time when land-renters (tenant farmers and sharecroppers) outnumbered landowners in rural Dillon County by almost three-to-one, the Kirbys owned hundreds of acres.Footnote 43
Beginning in 1909, however, a series of tragedies buffeted the Kirbys. In June of that year, following an altercation, Dr. H. A. Edwards shot and killed John Kirby, the children's father.Footnote 44 A few months later, seventeen-year-old daughter Lucy died.Footnote 45 The 1910 census, taken locally in May, lists the widowed Annie Kirby, white, living with her seven surviving and still-unmarried children—all white—on a Dillon County farm.Footnote 46 Six months later, Annie died. The still-visible epitaph on her headstone, “How many hopes lie buried here,” reflects the suffering of the entire family.Footnote 47
The Kirby orphans moved in with their mother's sister, Sarah Tucker, in Dillon County's Bethea Township. Sarah and her husband George were a childless couple in their early forties. Years previously, they had lost their only child, a daughter named Mary, before her third birthday, a loss that may have predisposed them to respond sympathetically to the Kirbys’ misfortunes. George Tucker was “an industrious and successful farmer.” He and his wife were consistently known as white.Footnote 48
The Tuckers enrolled three of the Kirby children—Herbert, Eugene, and Dudley—in the Dalcho School, the local white public institution. Dalcho had a fine reputation.Footnote 49 Before the Kirby children could graduate, however, the school's trustees expelled them because of their race.
Expulsion
The expulsion of the Kirby children from the all-white Dalcho School on the grounds that they were not “white” reveals how uncertain the law of racial determination was at the time. Different sources of legal authority—some statewide, some local—competed to impose conflicting definitions of whiteness. Unlike the centralized and professionalized system of racial determination that prevailed in Nazi Germany, as described by Thomas Pegelow Kaplan later in this forum, racial determination in Progressive Era South Carolina was notably localized and grassroots.
The racial expulsion of the Kirby children occurred during their third year at the Dalcho School. It was initiated not by state officials or even local school administrators, but rather by angry white neighbors. Sam Edwards, a concerned Dalcho School parent, “dictated and circulated”Footnote 50 a petition urging the dismissal of all non-white students. The petition did not mention the Kirbys by name, and Edwards later claimed that “the petition was not directed at the Kirby children.” Nevertheless, few doubted that the petition was aimed at Dudley, Eugene, and Herbert. Bad blood had long existed between Edwards and the Kirbys.Footnote 51 More importantly, the Kirby children were the only Dalcho students whose “whiteness” was questioned.
Sam Edwards circulated the petition to “all who would sign it.” Signatories included parents of Dalcho students and “citizens of the community” generally. Edwards then delivered the petition to the school's board of trustees.Footnote 52 According to John D. Coleman, who chaired the board, the trustees were well aware of local doubts concerning the Kirbys’ whiteness. Questions had arisen when the light-skinned Kirby orphans first applied for admission to Dalcho, Coleman later testified. Nonetheless, out of respect for George Tucker, the boys’ highly regarded (and indisputably “white”) uncle, the trustees “thought it a business thing to do to let them go to school” at Dalcho.Footnote 53 The trustees vowed to reconsider their offer of admission, however, should the boys’ attendance “in some way become detrimental” to the school.Footnote 54
Subsequent events persuaded the trustees to rethink their offer of admission. Following the Kirbys’ matriculation, four other allegedly mixed-race children, “some of whom were a good deal darker” than the Kirbys, sought to enroll in the school. That, plus Edwards's petition, convinced the board to dismiss the Kirbys. The boys’ continued attendance at Dalcho was not in the school's best interest, the trustees determined, because the parents of the school's other pupils “would not want their children raised up with” the Kirbys and others of their kind.Footnote 55 Therefore, on or around January 24, 1913, the trustees dismissed Dudley, Eugene, and Herbert Kirby. They then “had a talk . . . with Mr. Tucker, and gave the reason for dismiss[al], ‘that the children were not white.’”Footnote 56
When determining whether or not the Kirby children were white, the Dalcho School's trustees ignored the South Carolina Constitution of 1895. The marital provisions of this document defined as non-white anyone “who shall have one-eighth or more negro blood.”Footnote 57 Although the Constitution was ostensibly the supreme law of the state, the Dalcho School's trustees paid no attention to its one-eighth Negro-blood rule. Nor did they base their decision on an assessment of the children's appearance or behavior. Rather than relying on law books, or on their own eyes, the trustees relied on their ears. The boys’ community reputation would determine their racial identity, in the minds of the trustees. “In dismissing them,” Trustee Chair Coleman later explained, “we did not investigate what mixture of blood was in them.” Instead, Coleman based his vote on “what I have heard people say.”Footnote 58 Trustee J.F. Williams reported that the board “did not act from appearance,” but rather from “reputation and petition.”Footnote 59 Trustee L.E. Dew explained that the Kirbys were dismissed “because they had the reputation of not being pure-blooded.”Footnote 60
George Tucker protested his nephews’ expulsion. Much like the trustees, he based his racial argument on local reputation, not statewide law. The Kirby children, he insisted, had “never been considered anything but white.”Footnote 61
Tucker appealed the trustees’ decision to the Dillon County Board of Education. On February 24, 1913, a month after the dismissals, the board conducted a hearing on the matter.Footnote 62 The most explicit testimony about the Kirby children's racial identity alleged that they were neither black nor white, but Croatan Indian. Dalcho resident G. F. Bethea testified that he had known the late John Kirby, the children's father, “and he was considered a Croatan.”Footnote 63 School Trustee Coleman stated that the children were “neither white nor black, but were Croatan.”Footnote 64
Describing someone as “Croatan” raised as many genealogical questions as it answered. According to the 1910 census, only about 8% of Croatans were “full blooded” Indians. The rest were “mixed blood.” No Indian tribe in the country had a higher proportion of “mixed blooded” members. Although most Croatans mixed Indian with white lineage, an estimated 12%, according to the 1910 census, had partial “Negro” ancestry.Footnote 65 If the testimony at the Kirby hearing is to be believed, however, the Kirbys were not among the minority of Croatans who had “Negro” ancestry. No witness alleged that the Kirbys had any “Negro” blood whatsoever.Footnote 66
The testimony offered at the Board of Education hearing demonstrates that school officials had constructed a three-way local racial divide, and had placed the Kirby children in the Croatan category. At the time, the Dalcho school district contained approximately eighty white students and 120 “Negro” students.Footnote 67 Yet trustee Coleman stated that the Kirbys belonged to a third racial classification, one whose school-age cohort in the district numbered just “10 or 12.” He meant the Croatans.
The school to which the trustees proposed to send the Kirby children provides additional evidence that school officials viewed them as neither “Negro” nor white. As of 1913, the Dalcho district operated one “white” school (the Dalcho School) and two “Negro” schools. Yet when considering where the expelled Kirbys might study, the trustees admitted that the district operated no schools for “children of this class,” that is, Croatans. Years previously, Coleman stated, the district had “established a separate school” for “children of this class,” who were neither black nor white. Unable to retain a sufficient number of teachers, however, the school had closed, leaving no local educational options for “children of this class.”Footnote 68
Those who expelled the Kirby children considered them neither black nor white. They considered them Croatan Indians.Footnote 69
The Legal System Imposes the Black–White Paradigm
As the case progressed through the South Carolina appeals process, evidence of the boys’ alleged Croatan identity faded. The further the case traveled from its home community, the more it assumed the appearance of a binary (black–white) racial dispute, the sort of legal dispute that predominated statewide, region-wide, and nationwide. The courts validated the power of local communities to play leading roles in the determination of racial identity. They did so, however, in a way that erased the Croatan evidence and transformed the dispute into one involving the “one drop of ‘Negro’ blood” rule. The “one drop” rule did not figure in the factual record of the Kirby case, but because it was useful to the administration of the Jim Crow system generally, it featured prominently in the case's resolution.
The Board of Education Hearing
Although the attorneys for both sides were from the local area, and therefore were familiar with local social conventions concerning Croatans, both legal teams had extensive statewide legal experience. James Gibson, the Dillon County lawyer who represented George Tucker, was a leading member of the local bar and a familiar presence in the State Supreme Court.Footnote 70 Lanneau D. Lide, who represented school officials, also had a state-wide professional portfolio.Footnote 71
The only known surviving record of the Dillon County Board of Education hearing reports no lawyer questions, only witness testimony.Footnote 72 Nonetheless, the synopsis strongly suggests that lawyers’ questions guided witness testimony. This is evident both from the substance of the witnesses’ remarks and from references to “cross-examination” and “redirect examination.”Footnote 73
Witnesses in the Dillon County Board of Education hearing played down the case's locally distinctive tri-racialism and played up the black-white binary. Few witnesses provided positive declarations about the Kirbys’ alleged Croatan identity. The assertion that the Kirbys were “neither white nor black, but were Croatan” was an outlier.Footnote 74 Instead, guided by lawyers’ questions, witnesses tended to testify in negative terms that fit the black-white paradigm: the Kirbys were “not white,”Footnote 75 “not clear-blooded,”Footnote 76 “not pure white,”Footnote 77 or “not pure Caucasian blood.”Footnote 78 Some witnesses who did make positive declarations about the Kirbys’ racial identity did so in a guarded way, referring to the Kirbys as “mixed”Footnote 79 or “colored.”Footnote 80 No witnesses claimed that the Kirbys were “Negroes” or had any “Negro blood.”
The influence of lawyers was even more conspicuous in a series of questions about the Kirby family's interactions with other racial groups. Even though local expulsion advocates considered the Kirby children to be part Croatan, lawyers repeatedly asked witnesses to comment on the extent to which the boys associated with “Negroes” and whites, but not with Croatans. “I never heard of her . . . associating with negroes,” S. T. Godbolt testified in response to a lawyer's query about the Kirby boys’ mother.Footnote 81 Other witnesses stated that neither the boys’ fatherFootnote 82 nor the boys themselves associated with “Negroes.”Footnote 83 Lawyers appear similarly to have asked witnesses to discuss the Kirbys’ interactions with white people. John C. Sellers had heard that Kirbys attended white churches and schools.Footnote 84 J. E. Henry and John C. Hayes reported that John Kirby “associated with white people in a business way.”Footnote 85
When considered in the context of the Dalcho school district, this line of questioning, especially as it pertained to the Kirbys’ associations with “Negroes,” seems irrelevant. Expulsion advocates, after all, considered the boys part Croatan, not part Negro, and sought their removal to a Croatan school, not a Negro school. Yet no witness testified about the Kirbys’ associations with Croatans. Statewide, and indeed nationwide, however, association with Negroes was a standard feature of racial determination cases; association with Croatans was not. The lawyers’ awareness of this broader legal culture led them to generate a factual record in this tri-racial dispute that would fit comfortably within the day's prevailing biracial legal paradigm.
Tucker v. Blease in the South Carolina Supreme Court
In the spring of 1914, following losses in the Dillon County Board of Education and the South Carolina Board of Education hearings, George Tucker appealed his nephews’ expulsions to the South Carolina Supreme Court. He fared no better there. Chief Justice Eugene Gary's ruling upheld the boys’ dismissals and steered South Carolina racial determination law away from the state Constitution's “one-eighth” rule and toward the “one drop” rule. It also furthered the process, begun in the original board of education hearings, of filtering out evidence of the boys’ allegedly Croatan heritage, and analyzing their case in terms of black and white.
Two factors help explain the Tucker court's imposition of the black–white paradigm. The first looks backward, to legal precedent. Much of the prevailing law at the time—constitutional, statutory, and case law—emphasized a black–white racial binary. For example, Chief Justice Gary quoted the school-segregation provision of South Carolina's Constitution of 1895, a Jim Crow Constitution whose adoption was driven by racist demagogue “Pitchfork” Ben Tillman.Footnote 86 This provision divided the state's children into two groups, “white and colored,” and declared, in binary terms, that “no child of either race shall ever be permitted to attend a school provided for children of the other race.”Footnote 87
In addition, the chief justice quoted South Carolina's statutory and constitutional provisions barring interracial marriages and specifying the degree (one-eighth) of “Negro blood” that would prevent someone from marrying a white person in the state.Footnote 88 He also invoked classic segregationist precedents such as Plessy v. Ferguson Footnote 89 and Roberts v. City of Boston,Footnote 90 as well as passages from old South Carolina racial determination cases containing phrases such as the “admixture of negro blood”Footnote 91 and degrees of “African stock.”Footnote 92 The judicial impulse to discuss the new in terms of the existing surely influenced Gary's binary, black–white analysis in Tucker.
Second, by accommodating Tucker to the black–white paradigm, Chief Justice Gary was also looking forward, to the legal and social precedent that he hoped to set. Gary was a committed defender of Jim Crow, in the tradition of his mentor, South Carolina's Democratic political kingmaker “Pitchfork” Ben Tillman. Gary owed his public career to his association with Tillman. In 1890, when Tillman first ran for South Carolina governor, Gary was his running mate, as Democratic candidate for lieutenant governor.Footnote 93
The Democrats’ campaign that year was overtly white supremacist.Footnote 94 “White supremacy is the bulwark of our civilization,” their platform proclaimed. The platform denounced a federal proposal to protect African-American voting rights. It championed Jim Crow education and urged that school districts be drawn so as to allow “one white and one colored” school per district, “separate and distinct.” It urged a state constitutional convention to replace what Gary's stump speeches repeatedly denounced as the “carpet-bagger” Constitution of 1868.Footnote 95 The Tillman–Gary ticket swept to victory.Footnote 96
In 1893, Tillman appointed Gary to the South Carolina Supreme Court, prompting rumors that the governor was hatching a “plot to change the state judiciary” by packing it with “subservient judges.”Footnote 97 Critics, underwhelmed by Gary's legal credentials, attributed his ascension to his death grip on Tillman's coattails. Gary “caught on early,” critics sneered, “and has never let go.”Footnote 98 Subsequent commentators referred to Justice Gary as a “Tillmanite”Footnote 99 judge. Tillman himself infuriated critics by allegedly “taking it for granted and advertising to the world” that Justice Gary “will do what B. R. Tillman wants him to do” on the bench.Footnote 100 Gary became chief justice in 1912.Footnote 101
Tucker v. Blease presented Chief Justice Gary with an opportunity to sharpen the color line separating whites from blacks. At the time, the law of racial determination in South Carolina technically did not follow the “one drop” rule. Rather, it followed the “one-eighth” rule, as articulated in the marital provision of the 1895 Constitution. This provision made it unlawful for a white person to marry anyone “who shall have one-eighth or more negro blood.”Footnote 102 White supremacists objected to the “one-eighth” rule because they believed it allowed racial mixing to occur. As Chief Justice Gary recognized in Tucker, the provision entitled “the child of parents, where one of them was a white person, and the other had less than one-eighth of negro blood, to be classed as a white person [emphasis in original].”Footnote 103 In other words, under South Carolina law, some people with some “Negro blood” technically qualified as white.
Gary candidly acknowledged that the “one-eighth” rule, if applied in Tucker, would compel the children's reinstatement. Even if the so-called non-white “blood” in question had been “Negro,” not Croatan, its proportion in the Kirby children's veins was far less than one-eighth. Only one witness at the Dillon County Board of Education hearing, John C. Sellers, offered specific testimony regarding the racial makeup of the Kirby children. Sellers, an authority on local history and genealogy, traced the Kirby family tree. He calculated that the “per cent. of the colored [non-white] blood in the Kirby children is one-thirty-second.” This fell far below the one-eighth threshold.Footnote 104 No witness challenged Sellers's findings. The clarity of this testimony led Chief Justice Gary to a conclusion that he found disagreeable but inescapable: As a technical legal matter, as he put it in his ruling, these “children are entitled to be classed as white.”Footnote 105
But Gary was unwilling to leave it at that. He chose not to invoke the “one-eighth” rule from his state's Constitution. Instead, in tones reminiscent of the day's sociological jurisprudence, he suggested that the legal analysis should move beyond technical, legalistic rules to consider community mores and the greater social good. “The law recognizes that there is a social element,” he reasoned, “arising from racial instinct.” This “racial instinct” arose naturally “between those with and those without negro blood.” With this phrasing—the divide between “those with and those without negro blood”—Gary carved out a “one drop” exception to the South Carolina Constitution's “one-eighth” rule. He held that a child of a mixed marriage, whose non-white parent had less than one-eighth “Negro” blood, was entitled to “exercise all the legal rights of a white person, except those arising from a proper classification, when equal accommodations are afforded [emphasis added].”Footnote 106 Gary thus legitimated the white parents’ complaints about the Kirby children's continued attendance at the Dalcho School, complaints that presumably arose naturally from the “racial instinct” dividing “those with and those without negro blood.” The Chief Justice invoked this “negro blood” factor even though the factual record in Tucker alleged not a single drop of “negro blood.”
Gary concluded that the Dalcho trustees were justified in dismissing the Kirbys. He cited a 1912 South Carolina law authorizing public school trustees “to dismiss pupils, when the best interest of the schools make it necessary.”Footnote 107 “[T]he decided majority of the patrons would refuse to send their children to the Dalcho school if the Kirby children were allowed to continue in attendance,” Gary found. “Tested by the maxim, ‘The greatest good to the largest number,’ it would seem to be far better that the children in question should be segregated than that the large majority of the children attending that school should be denied educational advantages.” As long as the Kirby children and others of “their class” were provided with separate-but-equal accommodations, he reasoned, their exclusion from Dalcho School was legal, even though the state Constitution's “one-eighth” rule technically entitled them “to be classed as white.”
One of Gary's Supreme Court colleagues appears to have rejected his reasoning, at least initially. In April of 1914, when the Tucker ruling was first reported, newspapers stated that Associate Justice George W. Gage had written a dissenting opinion. Gage was a newcomer to courtFootnote 108 who appears to have been more racially liberal than the Tillmanite Chief Justice.Footnote 109 Apparently believing that the Constitution's “one-eighth” rule settled the matter, Gage's alleged dissent spoke out against Chief Justice Gary's unilateral imposition of the “one drop” rule. “If these [Kirby] children are white and are ‘entitled to be classed as white,’” Gage's dissent argued, according to press reports, “then they may not be rightfully excluded from schools made up of white children.”Footnote 110 For reasons unknown, however, Gage subsequently withdrew his dissent. Later news articles reported that Gage voted with the majority.Footnote 111 The published opinion itself contains no evidence of a dissenting opinion.Footnote 112
Officially, then, a unanimous South Carolina Supreme Court used a case concerning Croatans (not blacks) to sharpen the line between “those with and those without negro blood” in South Carolina.
The Case Lives On
Chief Justice Gary's ruling had the desired effect. It imposed the “one drop” ruleFootnote 113 and strongly reinforced a binary conception of race. Newspaper reporting on the case accepted the “black–white paradigm.” The press mentioned neither the Kirbys’ allegedly Croatan origins nor the separate-but-equal Indian schooling that the ruling cryptically prescribed. Instead, it emphasized the case's implications for black–white relations in and beyond South Carolina. The Columbia Record described Tucker v. Blease as “an illuminating commentary on the social condition of the negro in this State and generally throughout the South.”Footnote 114 Newspapers across the region followed suit.Footnote 115
Legal scholars have generally written about the case in similar terms. A 1934 piece in the California Law Review invoked Tucker while discussing the proposition that “the least ascertainable trace of negro blood” might control in some areas (such as school segregation), even if other standards for racial determination applied in other areas (such as marriage).Footnote 116 A 1951 piece in the Michigan Law Review cited Tucker to demonstrate that even white-seeming children might yet be barred from white schools “if there were a solitary distant Negro forebear.”Footnote 117 More recently, Daniel Sharfstein discussed Tucker in a piece about the “one drop” rule and the legal treatment of “whites with African ancestry.”Footnote 118 Sharfstein highlighted Chief Justice Gary's line about the “racial instinct” dividing “those with and those without negro blood.”Footnote 119
Likewise, lawyers and judges have uniformly interpreted Tucker v. Blease in terms of the black–white paradigm. Three subsequent appellate rulings cited Tucker; all three discussed the case in racially binary terms. Johnson v. Board of Education, a 1914 school segregation ruling from North Carolina, described Tucker v. Blease, then just five months old, as a case whose “facts are practically the same as those in this record,” even though Johnson, unlike Tucker, specified that the children in question had “partial Negro parentage.”Footnote 120 The 1920 Oklahoma school segregation case Jelsma v. Butler included Tucker in a long list of cases establishing, in racially binary terms, the constitutionality of segregating the two races “by requiring separate schools for each and prohibiting members of either race from attending the school provided for the other.”Footnote 121 Perhaps most intriguing is Gong Lum v. Rice, a 1927 case from the United States Supreme Court. Martha Lum was a Chinese student who wanted to attend an all-white public school, rather than the “colored” school that Mississippi had ordered her to attend. “[C]olored,” her lawyers argued, “describes only one race, and that is the negro.” In defense of this proposition, her lawyers cited, ironically, Tucker v. Blease.Footnote 122
Late in the twentieth century, LexisNexis prepared a “Case Summary” as a preface to Tucker v. Blease. This synopsis eclipsed even Chief Justice Gary's original opinion in its reinforcement of the “black–white paradigm.” Gary's 1914 ruling masked testimony alleging that the Kirbys were part-Croatan, and implied, though did not explicitly assert, that the children were part “Negro.” LexisNexis was not so guarded. Its “Case Summary” reported that the Kirbys were dismissed from school “because they were allegedly part black.”Footnote 123
Conclusion
The deep history of Tucker v. Blease exposes the inherent inaccuracy of the “black–white paradigm.” The United States—even in the Deep South during the Jim Crow era—was always more multicultural and multi-ethnic than the paradigm suggests. The story also illuminates the role that state-level legal systems played in the paradigm's creation. The Tucker court consciously filtered out evidence of multi-ethnic complexity and described Dillon County's social world in black-and-white terms. Thereafter, journalists, lawyers, judges, law reporters, and scholars all discussed the case (and surely other similar cases) in ways that reinforced this racially binary understanding of southern society.
Tucker also highlights the extraordinary indeterminacy of racial classification law in Progressive Era South Carolina. As the case's narrative demonstrates, neither the law's content nor its provenance were at all clear. Three different legal rules, springing from as many sources, struggled for supremacy. The first and most obvious source of racial determination law was the South Carolina Constitution of 1895, which employed a “one-eighth” rule for classifying persons as “negro or mulatto.”Footnote 124 Although the state Constitution is supposed to be the supreme law of the state, in fact it proved to be the weakest of the three rules in Tucker.
The second source of law was local opinion. In Tucker, neighbors sought to remove the Kirby children from an all-white public school on grounds that they were not believed to be white, even though the Kirbys technically qualified as white under the state Constitution. After verifying that neighbors regarded the Kirbys as non-white, the public school agreed to expel them. The school, in other words, ignored the Constitution's “one-eighth” rule and substituted a locally administered “community reputation” test for racial determination.
The third source of law was the South Carolina Supreme Court. This tribunal upheld the school's decision to ignore the state Constitution and expel technically white children from an all-white school. In one way, Chief Justice Gary's ruling favored local over statewide control of racial determination. In another way, however, the ruling represented a dramatic assertion of centralizing judicial power. Gary used that power to eviscerate the Constitution's “one-eighth” rule and to put a “one drop” rule in its place. Moreover, he consciously obscured the three-way (black/white/Indian) segregation that was locally at issue in Tucker, and wrote his opinion as if the case concerned just two classes of people: “those with and those without negro blood.” Compared to judges in civil law jurisdictions, such as the German judges discussed in Thomas Pegelow Kaplan's piece following, appellate judges in South Carolina, a common law jurisdiction, had tremendous power to make law. Chief Justice Gary used that power aggressively in furtherance of white supremacy.
As for the Kirbys, these brothers, who were deemed insufficiently white to study in the Dalcho School, were nonetheless white enough to join “white” Army units in World War I, as Uncle Sam's segregated ranks fought to “make the world safe for democracy.”Footnote 125