A Different Shade of Justice: Asian American Civil Rights in the South

A Different Shade of Justice

JUSTICE, POWER, AND POLITICS

Coeditors

Heather Ann Thompson

Rhonda Y. Williams

Editorial Advisory Board

Peniel E. Joseph

Matthew D. Lassiter

Daryl Maeda

Barbara Ransby

Vicki L. Ruiz

Marc Stein

The Justice, Power, and Politics series publishes new works in history that explore the myriad struggles for justice, battles for power, and shifts in politics that have shaped the United States over time. Through the lenses of justice, power, and politics, the series seeks to broaden scholarly debates about America’s past as well as to inform public discussions about its future.

More information on the series, including a complete list of books published, is available at http://justicepowerandpolitics.com/.

A Different Shade of Justice

Asian American Civil Rights in the South

Stephanie Hinnershitz

The University of North Carolina Press

Chapel Hill

This book was published with the assistance of the Fred W. Morrison Fund of the University of North Carolina Press.

© 2017 The University of North Carolina Press

All rights reserved

Manufactured in the United States of America

The University of North Carolina Press has been a member of the Green Press Initiative since 2003.

Cover photo courtesy of the State Archives of Florida

Portions of Chapter 3 appeared previously in Stephanie Hinnershitz, "The ‘Little Brown Brother’ in the Jim Crow South: Race, Sex, and Empire in State of Georgia v. Fortunatio Annunciatio (1932)," Journal of Southern History 82, no. 3 (August 2016): 549–78. Reprinted with permission.

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

Names: Hinnershitz, Stephanie, 1984– author.

Title: A different shade of justice : Asian American civil rights in the South / by Stephanie Hinnershitz.

Other titles: Justice, power, and politics.

Description: Chapel Hill : The University of North Carolina Press, [2017] | Series: Justice, power, and politics | Includes bibliographical references and index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2017003592 | ISBN 9781469633695 (cloth : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781469633701 (ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: Asian Americans—Southern States—History—20th century. | Asian Americans—Civil rights—Southern States—History—20th century. | Civil rights—Southern States—History—20th century.

Classification: LCC E184.A75 H56 2017 | DDC 323.1195/073075—dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017003592

Contents

Acknowledgments

Introduction

1 The Oriental Menace Comes to the South: Anti-Alien Property Laws

2 Black or White? Asian Americans’ Challenges to Segregated Schools

3 A Love That Could Not Be Known: Sex, Marriage, and Southern Law

Post-1965 Changes in Asian America

4 From the Gulf to the Courts: Vietnamese Americans and Human Rights in Texas

5 Getting Down to Business in Dixie: Indian American Hotel Owners and Entrepreneurial Rights

Conclusion

Notes

Select Bibliography

Index

Illustrations

Japanese American farmers and their families at Yamato Colony 37

George Morikami and Japanese American farmers at Yamato Colony 38

Chinese American students in Greenville, Mississippi 83

Chinese American students in Sunday school in Bolivar County, Mississippi 85

Philippine yo-yo experts in Jacksonville, Florida 121

Solicitor General E. A. Stephens in Atlanta 135

Map of fishing towns in the Gulf of Mexico region 163

Klan calling card from Texas 173

Remains of a Vietnamese American fisherman’s boat in Texas 176

American-owned-and-operated advertisement in Valdosta, Georgia 205

American-owned-and-operated advertisement on U.S. Highway 84 in Georgia 231

Acknowledgments

In many ways writing the second book was both challenging and a welcome change from writing the first. Many people have played important roles in seeing this project from beginning to end, and although I cannot mention everyone in these acknowledgments, this is an undertaking that I could not have completed without the help that I received along the way. Also, when I moved to Georgia from Maryland in 2013, I never would have imagined that I would be writing a book on Asian Americans in the South. While in graduate school and working on my dissertation, I always thought that if I were fortunate enough to receive a job offer, it would be from a school on the West Coast, considering my interests in Asian American history. As fate would have it, I ended up in Valdosta, Georgia, and, during my first semester there, I worried about funding for traveling to West Coast archives to work on a second project. When I took a gamble on searching through LexisNexis for court cases involving Asian Americans in the South, I began a journey that would take me through multiple southern states in search of Asian Americans who fought against southern discrimination and racism in the past.

First and foremost, the members of the editorial team at the University of North Carolina Press made this process as easy as possible and were always there to help talk through ideas and read multiple drafts. From day one, Brandon Proia made sure that the manuscript moved along and offered insight and help in the publishing process, and I am grateful for his support. The anonymous reviewers for the press also offered excellent and much-needed feedback that in the end made the book more complete and analytically sharp, and I thank them for their time and care in reading my work. I also would like to thank the editors of the Justice, Power, and Politics series, Heather Ann Thompson and Rhonda Williams, for their interest in my work and for their roles in creating an amazing series.

A team of scholars also contributed to this project either through reading drafts, offering comments, or providing friendly support. At the annual Southern Historical Association meeting, Francoise Hamilton changed my view of the project and helped me to get out of a conceptual rut by suggesting that I reconsider how I defined a civil rights movement. Similarly, audience members at the Association for Asian American Studies annual conference offered interesting questions and comments on what would become the third chapter of this book. And, as always, Julie Greene, Eiichiro Azuma, and Lisa Mar wrote letters of support and offered critical advice for moving the project along.

I am obligated to thank Valdosta State University for funding to complete research for this project, nothing more and nothing less.

I’d like to thank the archivists and librarians at the Arkansas State Library, the Georgia Archives, the Hill Memorial Library Special Collections at Louisiana State University, the Mississippi Department of Archives and History, Delta State University’s special collections, the State Archives of Florida, the Dolph Briscoe Center for American History at the University of Texas at Austin, the Austin History Center, the Nashville Public Library, the staff at the Portsmouth Circuit Court in Virginia, Benjamin Almoite at the Virginia State Law Library, and Judy Bruno at the Southern Poverty Law Center. I’d also like to especially thank Morris Dees, Lee Duschoff, Michael Leven, H. P. Rama, and Ravi Patel for allowing me to conduct interviews with them for the final chapter. Your time was greatly appreciated, and I absolutely could not have written this book without you.

The Journal of Southern History graciously allowed me to reprint portions of Chapter 3 that were previously published in their journal.

As always, a big shout out to all of my family and friends who supported me along the way, but I’d like to especially thank Bob and Rhonda Hutchinson for helping to pay for the permissions costs for the images found in Chapter 4.

And last, but not least, Rob Hutchinson deserves a mountain of praise for (once again) putting up with me as I wrote this book.

A Different Shade of Justice

Introduction

I’ve never heard a political opinion from a Chinaman, African American civil rights activist and Mississippi Delta entrepreneur Amzie Moore recounted in a 1967 interview. Although Congress passed and enacted major pieces of legislation, including the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965, Moore understood that there was still a long way to go on the road to equality and was more than a bit flustered over what he identified as Asian Americans’ lack of participation in the civil rights movement. A native of the Mississippi Delta born to sharecropping parents on a plantation near the small town of Grenada and later a store owner in Cleveland, Mississippi, Moore became a leader in the Regional Council of Negro Leadership, an organization that encouraged self-help and entrepreneurship among African Americans in Mississippi. While the 1955 murder of Emmett Till spurred Moore to action in the search for Till’s body (where Moore and others learned that there were hundreds of unknown Emmett Tills whom whites had murdered and dumped in the swamps, bayous, and murky, slow-winding rivers of the Delta for decades and probably centuries), Moore was most comfortable in the economic arena of civil rights. Moore believed deeply in the value of small business and property ownership in uplifting black southerners and placing them on the path to equality. This was often difficult to accomplish in the Delta, the most southern place on earth, as journalists described the flat, cotton-bespeckled landscape of the area. Since the immediate post–Civil War years, however, Chinese migrating to the region from the West Coast in search of business opportunities or to join other family members who lingered after brief stints as plantation workers during the early days of Reconstruction had a strong foothold in the small business scene in the Delta. Both African Americans and Chinese Americans shared this southern space and attempted to find their place in a racialized society as entrepreneurs and, more generally, as ethnic and racial minorities.

As Moore’s perception of the Chinaman illuminates, African Americans and Chinese Americans often lived in the same area but did not always share the same experiences within that space. Antagonisms, such as a black boycott of a Chinese grocery store in Grenada, Mississippi, erupted when African Americans perceived that Chinese Americans became too accepting of white racism and benefited from shunning and refusing to intermingle with African Americans. However, the distance between African Americans and Chinese Americans was often greater than antagonisms; they simply did not intersect. The experiences of these two marginalized and often ostracized groups living in a white, racist society were different and created a silence reflected in Moore’s experience that he had never heard a political idea or witnessed civil rights activism from the Chinese Americans in Mississippi. If African Americans rarely acknowledged the presence or the voices of Chinese Americans (and vice versa) in Mississippi, whites often did the same. This biracial framework creates the notion that Chinese Americans were an anomaly in Mississippi and that their presence had little impact on the battles for racial justice and equality that shaped the southern civil rights movement of the twentieth century.

But about half an hour up the road from Grenada in the Delta town of Rosedale lived Jeu Gong Lum, a Chinaman grocery owner who would have been puzzled by Moore’s characterization of him and his fellow countrymen. True, Gong Lum did not join in the protests or picket lines of the African American Civil Rights Movement, and maybe he didn’t discuss politics over coffee at the local diner; but he had political opinions, particularly when it came to the well-being of his American-born daughters, Martha and Berda. In 1925 (decades before Brown v. Board of Education, McLaurin v. Oklahoma State Regents, and Sweatt v. Painter), Gong Lum fought against the local school district’s decision to deny Martha admittance to the white school, and he appealed his case to the U.S. Supreme Court in 1927. Although Gong Lum would not win his case, here was a Chinaman who challenged segregation through the legal system and accidentally became involved in the racial politics of the South. Instead of participating in protests and sit-ins, he pursued a steady fight against Jim Crow in the local, state, and federal courts, and perhaps unbeknownst to Moore, there were other Asian Americans like Gong Lum across the South who fought just as steadfastly for their rights by using the law.

Moore’s description of the Mississippi Chinese Americans as politically mute was a gross mischaracterization that continues to shape the narrative of civil rights history in the South. Chinese Americans did have political opinions on their place in a largely biracial society, as did other Asian Americans living in Dixie during the long twentieth century. Similar to African Americans, Chinese Americans, Filipino Americans, Japanese Americans, and later, Vietnamese Americans and Indian Americans faced legal and social discrimination under Jim Crow and its aftereffects. Like African Americans, they often used the courts and advocacy organizations to fight for justice; to disrupt school segregation, antimiscegenation laws, and business discrimination; and to combat racial violence. Unlike African Americans, however, Asian immigrants were subjected to unique discriminatory legislation (including the prohibition of landownership) that rested on their immigrant status as well as international politics and relations between the United States and Asian nations. As a result, Asian Americans utilized a variety of legal strategies in the courts by claiming status as American citizens, exercising special privileges as foreign nationals and (in the case of Filipinos) colonial subjects, emphasizing their liminal racial position via the black/white color line, and later, moving from judicial to legislative lobbying. Despite Moore not hearing it, Chinese Americans did have a political voice, even if it did not intermingle with those of black activists. This book uncovers the political voices of Asian American activists from the 1880s to the late twentieth century and places them within the context of southern and civil rights history.

Why are Asian Americans largely absent from this rich history? As I discovered during frequent research trips and through conversations with friends, family, and other scholars, there is a pervasive belief that because Asian Americans were not present in large numbers in the South for most of American history, their influence on policy must have been minuscule. My mentioning of this project either thoroughly fascinated students in my immigration history course (Chinese? In the South? That’s so random!) or elicited genuine confusion. Asians and the South are two subjects that do not often go hand in hand, despite Asian Americans representing a rapidly growing demographic in Houston, Atlanta, and other southern cities and their long, if not prolific, presence in this region. A group of Filipino sailors who leapt from a Spanish galleon docked in New Orleans in the late 1700s formed a small fishing village, St. Malo, near current-day St. Bernard Parish, which existed well into the twentieth century and was perhaps the first Asian settlement in the South. Similarly, New Orleans’s cosmopolitan atmosphere boasted of its own Chinatown and Japanese quarters during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, while Chinese Americans began to make their homes in Macon, Savannah, and Augusta, Georgia, during the early twentieth century. Elsewhere, southerners often encountered the one or two Asian families or entrepreneurs in town, such as Chinese Americans in Mississippi and Arkansas. Asian Americans were (and are) part of the fabric of the South, yet have been overlooked in the southern historical narrative.¹

The absence of Asian Americans in southern and civil rights history is due not to a physical absence in the region but to the idea that because Asian Americans were, as Leslie Bow explains, racial anomalies, they existed on the margins of southern society.² This separation of Asian Americans from the larger narratives of American history is not limited to historical studies of the South. While Asian Americans are front and center in the historiography of West Coast student movements and the Asian American Movement of the late 1960s, their roles in other social and political events nationwide, if we rely on the majority of the existing literature, are minuscule. The political and activist presence of Asian Americans is confined to the historical, geographical, and conceptual boundaries of Asian America, primarily West Coast based and dating from the late 1960s forward. The lack of engagement among scholars of Asian American and civil rights history more broadly contributes to an incomplete picture of both narratives. More recently, studies of multiracial, interethnic, and panethnic civil rights movements of the West Coast are bringing Asian Americans into the fold of histories that were previously sketched in black and white. However, when we look at the South, the historically low numbers of Asian Americans in the region lead us to believe that they lacked an activist presence or, really, any presence at all.³

White southerners, however, identified even the smallest community of Asian Americans as a threat to racial order and stability. Although small pockets of Chinese Americans and Japanese Americans were initially tolerated in Florida, Louisiana, Mississippi, and Texas during the early twentieth century, white southerners viewed Filipinos in the 1930s and Vietnamese and Indians during the 1970s and 1980s with more suspicion. Asian Americans did not fit easily into colored or black and white categories, and even their small numbers posed a challenge to Jim Crow hallmarks such as school segregation and antimiscegenation laws. However, Asian immigrants’ noncitizen status (under the 1906 Naturalization Act, Asians were unable to naturalize in America) as well as their social and cultural otherness as Orientals led to questions of property rights and legal status. White southerners and southern legislatures viewed these challenges and questions as threats and fired back with a slew of discriminatory court rulings, acts, and even constitutional amendments to limit the potential of Asian Americans to maneuver their position in southern society. The presence of Asian Americans revealed the xenophobia that was rampant in southern racism. From segregation to denial of property and other basic rights to outright violence and intimidation, whites welcomed Asians with codified racism, forcing them to assimilate to the Jim Crow social, cultural, and legal system or to challenge it.

Contrary to Moore’s statements and the absence of Asian American activism in works of southern history, Chinese Americans, Filipino Americans, Japanese Americans, Vietnamese Americans, and Indian Americans made political statements by using the courts as well as their noncitizen status and identity to push back against racial inequality. Over the years, Asian American identity in the racially binary South has become a growing subfield of Asian American studies and Asian American history. The experience of Asian Americans with civil rights activism in the South is often overshadowed in the existing literature by a distinct division of the region between black and white.⁴ Scholarship on the Mississippi Chinese and their struggles with acceptance and assimilation dominate our understanding of the Asian American experience in the South, but more recently scholars have pushed historians to grapple with the larger conceptual problems and issues of what Leslie Bow has described as the interstitial identity of Asian Americans residing in the South.⁵ Instead of merely existing between two racial identities (black and white), Asian Americans inhabited a unique space in southern society that was not easily defined and presented opportunities as well as setbacks in maneuvering this racial landscape without necessarily having to strive for or proclaim whiteness to thrive and function. Far too often, scholars and the few historians who have focused on Asian Americans in the South characterized them as seeking to become white socially, culturally, and politically to distance themselves as far as possible from the black or colored categories.⁶ Bow challenged historians to move beyond this yellow to white framework and instead focus on the unique space and identity that Asian Americans inhabited in Dixie. I build on Bow’s foundational work and argue that Asian Americans used their interstitial identity and alien status in court to actively challenge segregation and discrimination. The presence of the interstitial Asian American in the legal realm of the South and its consequences on race relations guide this study.

Because I focus largely on Asian Americans’ legal strategies, A Different Shade of Justice also brings nuance to the study of southern history and civil rights through applications of critical race theory and Asian American studies. In a black-and-white society, there is no better example of what critical race theorists Michael Omi and Howard Winant identify as the unstable social category of race than the experiences of Asian Americans with southern laws.⁷ In many ways, this is as much a story of the variables and gray areas of Jim Crow law and racialized southern courts as it is of Asian American civil rights. Since Asian Americans were neither colored nor white, they were often defined as either colored or not colored (a category different from white), depending on what state, county, or even city they inhabited. Legal scholar Angelo Ancheta’s study of the experiences of Asian Americans with the law as racial minorities and immigrants and the resulting questions of citizenship and its definition in the United States informs this study. Many studies of Asian American legal activity are centered on the West Coast or at the very least west of the Mississippi River, where larger Asian American populations existed before the mid- to late twentieth century. As such, Asian American legal battles in this region moved in cycles, largely corresponding to larger events such as mob violence targeting Chinese during the late nineteenth century (which resulted in Chinese suits for property damages in local and state courts) and, later, during and after World War II, cases against Japanese American incarceration and forced removal (Korematsu v. United States in 1944 and Hirabayashi v. United States in 1943) and anti-alien land laws (Sei Fujii v. State of California in 1952 and Oyama v. State of California in 1948). Other cases that went before the Supreme Court and originating from the West, including the 1886 Yick Wo v. Hopkins case (where the Supreme Court ruled that seemingly race-neutral laws can still violate Fourteenth Amendment rights) and the 1898 United States v. Wong Kim Ark case, which affirmed birthright citizenship, centered on violations of Fourteenth Amendment rights. In contrast, the cases presented in this book originated from the South and dealt with specific day-to-day encounters with Jim Crow segregation and other forms of anti-Asian violence in an area where often few Asian Americans lived. The Asian American plaintiffs from the South used the Fourteenth Amendment’s guarantees of life, liberty, and property in conjunction with their status as noncitizens (as many were recent immigrants when they went into the courts) to work around a binary black-and-white, segregated legal system. However, legal strategies among Asian Americans varied throughout the South as well, representing an often personal approach to defining and fighting for civil rights. While Asian Americans faced discrimination on the West Coast as a result of their racial and immigrant status, the fluidity of their racial identity in the South as well as questions surrounding their rights as noncitizens created a more legally convoluted approach to civil rights in the southern U.S. I build on existing works of civil rights and southern history by exposing the complexities that Asian Americans brought to the southern legal system through their racially complex and shifting identities.⁸

A Different Shade of Justice restores Asian Americans to a multicultural and diverse legal system in the South. Native Americans and Mexican Americans who called the South their home for either centuries or decades also participated in rights movements that intertwined with the African American Civil Rights Movement, but they faced their own unique forms of discrimination and racism that shaped their strategies for justice and equality. Southern Native American tribes skillfully used federal Indian affairs commissioners to push for reforms in education, poverty, and unemployment in tribal communities, while Mexican immigrants often looked to the Mexican government to intervene on their behalf in fighting Jim Crow racial constructions during the twentieth century.⁹ I argue that Asian Americans shared a space as marginalized individuals with Native Americans, Mexican Americans, and other groups that fell outside the black/white framework, but their varied ethnic representations and complex legal relationship to naturalization and immigration laws unfold in a complex history of rights, racism, and discrimination in the South. In this sense, A Different Shade of Justice joins other scholarly studies of Mexican Americans and Native Americans that challenge the black-and-white story of race in the South during the twentieth century, but I argue for the importance of Asian immigrants for shaping southern laws and presenting crucial legal battles before the bar, often preceding corresponding African American challenges to Jim Crow.

In addition to their racially anomalous status, Asian Americans also walked a fine line between tacit acceptance in southern communities and perpetual otherness. So long as Asian Americans played by the rules of Jim Crow and accepted southern life as dictated by local laws and customs, they were tolerated. Once they pushed too hard for equality, however, their troubles increased and their otherness was highlighted. Lisa Lowe’s concept of Asian Americans as perpetual foreigners within regardless of citizenship status rings true in the experiences of Asian Americans in the South.¹⁰ From the late nineteenth century through the late twentieth century, whites viewed Asian immigrants as a form of labor in either positive or negative terms. From plantation laborers who filled a need following the emancipation of slaves to Japanese who were expected to rebuild and transform southern land to Chinese American merchants, Vietnamese American fishermen, and Indian American hoteliers, Asian laborers were an integral part of the regional economy but were not often seen as full members of society. Because the identities of Asian Americans were tied to their labor, their acceptance and even racial status varied depending on whether or not the South needed them. Japanese Americans were model citizens when assisting southern farmers with new technology; Chinese Americans, celestial brothers when assisting with plantation labor; Filipino Americans, a unique and harmless oddity so long as they worked in the fields or in the entertainment industry; Vietnamese Americans and Indian Americans, acceptable if they did not compete with whites, but instantly transformed into a yellow peril once whites perceived them as an economic or social threat.

The Imperial Heathens Arrive: Chinese Laborers and the Post–Civil War South

Understanding the history of Asian Americans in the South requires an examination of their relationship to whites, employment, and property during the late nineteenth century within the broader context of Reconstruction. Land and labor had always shaped southern economic, social, and political life. Following the Civil War, many southern planters came to see Chinese migrants as a valuable tool in the struggle to restore prewar economic prosperity. Reactions to the Chinese from white southerners would set the stage for later receptions of Asian immigrants and lead to questions of the place of Asian Americans in southern society and their respective rights (or lack thereof) as noncitizens.

During the antebellum years, slavery shaped agricultural production and economics in the South. Those who did not own slaves depended on the system for trade and for the accompanying feelings of white supremacy that came from knowing that an entire racial underclass supported and protected the few social and political rights nonslaveowners possessed. After the Civil War destroyed property and land and precipitated the end of slavery, both white and black southerners struggled to understand the transformative changes in the world around them. For Republicans in Congress, the end of the war and the death of slavery represented an opportunity to reconstruct the South in the image of free labor, rights for the newly freed slaves, and industry. The sweeping visions of social, political, and economic change that Radical Republicans and their followers supported created the tumultuous Reconstruction era in the South. From the end of the war through the withdrawal of federal troops from the South in 1877, northern businessmen, politicians, educators, and military officials traveled south to oversee and create the transformation of southern society they desired for collective or individual gains. Programs such as the Freedmen’s Bureau assisted newly free slaves with gaining their footing in society, while legislation such as the Civil Rights Act of 1866 and the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments redefined citizenship and the rights therein.¹¹

Many white southerners, however, held their own visions for Reconstruction. The rights of newly freed slaves came under fire from white Democrats who feared disorder, racial mixing, and political subversion from African Americans. Hysteria over the potential implosion of the traditional, race-based societal order resulted in discriminatory acts at the local and state levels known as Black Codes. These measures forbade African Americans from a number of activities, including owning firearms and intermarrying with whites, and severely curtailed the citizenship rights of freed blacks. Paramilitary terrorist groups such as the Ku Klux Klan (KKK) represented these sentiments and fueled a social and political movement to redeem the South from outsiders who did not understand and did not care to understand the importance of racial hierarchy for harmony and efficiency. Reconstruction, both formally and informally, came to represent a second civil war for southerners seeking to regain control of their homes and their lives.¹²

Yet southerners did not reject all aspects of Reconstruction. In fact, many embraced the same goals of economic restructuring and progression that northerners held for the region. Planters desired to return their cotton, sugar, and tobacco fields to the glory days before the Civil War, while industrial-minded merchants and businessmen turned to new innovations in factories, steel plants, textile mills, and railroads to either regain or establish their economic prowess. Southerners turned to ventures in agriculture, industry, and capital in order to rebuild Dixie.¹³

But the question of whose labor would rebuild the South preoccupied the minds of planters and entrepreneurs. Both whites and blacks struggled to adjust to the concept of free labor, and the transition was far from smooth. For planters, sharecropping became a new labor system for the cotton and tobacco industries and represented the most efficient relationship between a planter and his tenant farmers. The system was not perfect, as debts could accumulate quickly on harvested crops, but it helped in adapting to new times. Another option was convict lease labor, a system that took advantage of the growing number of young black men arrested for violating the Black Codes. In northern Florida, eastern Alabama, and southwestern Georgia, sheriffs leased convicts to turpentine and sugarcane planters as needed. This was by no means free labor, as the convicts had no rights and the working conditions were typically no better than slavery, but it was again an attempt to fill the need for cheap labor following the war while resisting treating blacks as free workers.¹⁴

Early on, though, some planters and industrialists turned to an alternate source of labor: the Chinese. During the 1840s and 1850s, Chinese men arrived in the United States in large numbers, fleeing political unrest in their homeland and for employment in mining or railroad construction in the American West, arranged through friend or family contacts or labor contractors. Despite the reputation of the Chinese for being diligent, docile, and unassuming workers, white backlash against them rose throughout the 1860s as labor unions and the Democratic Party of California decried the Chinese, their heathen ways, and their desire to steal American jobs and depreciate wages. A growing global disapproval of the coolie trade also soured Americans’ opinions on Chinese laborers by the Civil War. Long before southern planters became interested in the Chinese, a coolie trade in Chinese and other Asian labor existed worldwide. Coolies (a term that stemmed from a Mandarin word for bitterly hard use of strength or labor) were workers originating from southern China or India recruited for manual labor in various regions around the world, including mining in Peru and other South American nations, but particularly for working on the sugarcane fields in Cuba and the wider Caribbean. The coolie labor system was a form of indentured servitude: Workers signed contracts either through labor brokers or directly through their employers and agreed to work a specific number of years in order to cover transportation expenses. By the early nineteenth century, coolies were shipped around the world and engaged in a variety of labor activities, but in many cases the working conditions resembled slavery more than free labor. Sickness, violence, and death characterized the lives of the many men who became coolies. In other cases, labor contractors obtained coolies through kidnapping or other illegal and/or unethical means. By the 1840s, amid the growing international abolitionist movement, the British and others around the world recognized that coolie labor was rarely free labor. The British shut down ports that oversaw the trading of coolies by the 1840s and 1850s, but coolie labor continued under the auspices of other nations, including Portugal and Spain.¹⁵

At the height of anti–coolie trade activism, Americans came to associate the Chinese living in their country with enslavement. Although these laborers were free and not coolies, Americans worried about the threat to free labor that any slave or indentured servant would hold. Concerns over the entry of coolies into America to work in mines grew until Congress passed the Anti-Coolie Act in 1862 and banned any ships carrying coolies from entering the United States, while dealing harsh penalties to Americans who aided the importation of coolies. Chinese workers who came to the United States were voluntary laborers, but the U.S. government grew concerned over the possibility that Chinese coolies would further undermine wages. With formal coolie arrangements outlawed in the United States, coolie became an unofficial term for any Chinese laborer who came to America to work.¹⁶

Despite the growing distaste for Chinese in America, by the end of the Civil War, the celestials appeared to be an acceptable labor option. But the turn to Chinese labor was more than an attempt to find a simple substitute for slaves or black labor. Planters identified the Chinese as apolitical and less likely than African Americans to challenge their employers. After the Civil War, planters and other whites argued that African Americans were lazy, insolent, and too demanding after they received their citizenship and rights. When southern planters and industrialists first considered importing Chinese labor for their own version of Reconstruction, they opened the South to Asian immigrants and set a precedent for how Chinese and other Asian ethnic groups would be viewed from then on. The Chinese were an odd addition to southern society: They were a commodity (labor), but a commodity with rights as immigrants and Chinese. Under the newly established Fourteenth Amendment, even noncitizens had access to due process and equal protection, establishing a basis for rights that transcended American citizenship. Employers who sought Chinese labor were forced to consider the place of Chinese in the southern economy, the political rights of the Chinese, and the reshaping of the southern racial landscape. These ambitious planters envisioned that when traveling through the cotton or cane fields, one would see Chinese cheaply and efficiently performing the duties that once belonged to blacks. Chinese labor was to be the cornerstone of a New South.¹⁷

In order to achieve their lofty goals and visions, a group of planters from Mississippi, Arkansas, Tennessee, and Louisiana met in Memphis in July 1869 to discuss the possibilities and potential benefits and liabilities of importing Chinese laborers. Those in attendance from Mississippi, Tennessee, and Arkansas expressed their deep desires to import Chinese but were also concerned about how this desire intersected with the Anti-Coolie Act.¹⁸ Those who were knowledgeable of Chinese labor assured planters that using Chinese already in the United States and living on the West Coast was perfectly legal and more advisable than searching for Chinese overseas. A special transportation committee reported that Chinese could easily be brought from the Pacific to Memphis in lots of fifty and over for $60 each in transportation costs.¹⁹ With the cost and mode of transportation more fully explained, others asked about the exact nature of the Chinese and their suitability for labor in the South. Fortunately for the curious planters, there were many West Coast representatives and labor contractors on hand at the convention to assuage any fears that the Chinese might be potential problems. Kim Orr, a Chinese immigrant who spent time as a missionary among Chinese sugar workers in British Guiana and later came to New Orleans as a labor contractor with a boat of Chinese laborers, assured those in attendance that the habits and peculiarities of the Chinese made them well adapted to the southern plantations, the products of China being in many ways similar to the Southern States.²⁰ The mighty reservoir of labor, as one attendee described Chinese migration, is ready to flow into your rich lands.²¹ True, Chinese are heathens, but if a planter wants cotton, sugar, or tobacco—[he] will get them from the Chinese.²²

When the discussions of the merits of