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OAH Magazine of History
Volume 7, No 4
Summer 1993

Copyright ©
Organization of American Historians

Emancipation’s Impact on African-American Education in Norfolk, Virginia, 1862-1880

Michael Hucles

The importance of the changes brought by emancipation can scarcely be exaggerated. While enslaved, African Americans were denied the opportunity to participate in the political arena, own property, receive an education, and enter into a free contractual arrangement with employers. With emancipation, African Americans embarked on a vigorous affirmation of their newly-won status by insisting on directing their lives in these and other areas. These changes, however, varied depending upon the political economy and location of the African-American community. The African-American community in Norfolk, for example, asserted itself in ways essential to its perceived interests. One of the areas uppermost in the minds of many black Norfolk residents was education. The educational opportunities that the Civil War and Reconstruction presented to the African-American community were significant, but education in the urban context also brought special problems. With changes in the urban political climate over time, the very real gains made by Norfolk African Americans often appeared illusory (1).

Norfolk in 1865 differed in many respects from the pre-Civil War city. Federal occupation of Norfolk on 10 May 1862 provided enslaved African Americans from the surrounding countryside a safe haven from rebel masters. Large numbers of African Americans came to the city in the hopes of finding freedom, and by 1870, the city’s black population had nearly doubled since the outbreak of war almost ten years previous.

This dramatic increase in the city’s black population (2) fueled the political aspirations of many African Americans who sought to affirm and debate the equality of “mankind.” Others in the African American community simply rejoiced in their newly acquired status, supported their leaders, and sought to improve their lives materially in light of postwar economic adjustments. Still others, including many recent arrivals from the countryside, struggled to make the transition from rural to urban life.

African American definitions of freedom gained full eloquence in a document issued by Norfolk’s black male elite in June 1865. In the Equal Suffrage statement, Norfolk blacks outlined a three-part program that called for male suffrage, property acquisition, and fair labor practices. As an expression of their class and gender, the authors focused their attention on obtaining the vote. And yet, they were aware that rights denied in one area affected the quality of life in other areas. Thus, they called for the formation of land and labor associations. They hoped that this multiple approach would provide a suitable organizational framework (3).

The vast majority of African Americans in the city, although not part of the political elite, supported the efforts of these leaders and participated in the numerous political gatherings. Most African Americans, however, focused on acquiring jobs and education. They perceived the ability to provide for their families and to have the opportunity to advance as far more critical than casting the ballot. Former slave and Norfolk resident Cornelius Garner recalled that “de fust school was Nicholson Street School.” Staffed by primarily white school teachers, “dey had dat school an’ two er three other schools heah den” (4).

Norfolk’s African-American community briefly enjoyed public school education as early as 1863, when missionaries sent to liberated Norfolk obtained two buildings formerly used to teach white students. These schools were returned to white use, however, with the close of the war. Black children, therefore, were without schools for two years until a new political climate and the efforts of missionaries led to the opening of several schools for African-American students in 1867. The success of these schools was immediately apparent. The conservative white paper, the Norfolk Journal, for example, expressed praise and surprise “at the display of the intelligence by the pupils” who attended the Fenchurch Street school (5).

The school located on Fenchurch Street was one of three sponsored by the American Missionary Association. It was known as Southgate’s Institute and had three teachers. The other schools were Wilson Institute, located at the corner of Bute and Union Streets, and the Calvert Street school. Wilson Institute had two teachers while the Calvert Street school had three. In addition, missionaries sponsored a night school for adults at Southgate’s Institute four nights during the week. Prior to the Civil War, legal prohibitions forbade teaching blacks; hence, the night classes enabled a larger group of African Americans to receive what had been denied previously. These schools continued to provide valuable service to the black community until 1871, when the city councils passed an ordinance establishing a black public school in each of the four wards of the city. The schools within the black community would then be under the supervision of the superintendent of all schools (6).

Unfortunately, black educational progress in Norfolk was tied to the political climate of the city. In 1870, the newly elected city council redrew the boundaries of the four wards. A disproportionate number of blacks came to live in a new fourth ward. At the same time, the ward’s representatives declined from eleven to five, which diluted the potential political power of blacks. Ironically, however, it also assured black representation on the council, which to some was tremendous progress since none had previously existed (7). Although this appeared promising, it proved less than satisfactory for black educational efforts. No clearer illustration of this can be seen than in the efforts of one black councilman, Jacob Riddick.

Riddick was elected to council in 1872 along with two other African Americans from the fourth ward, A. A. Portlock and J. D. Epps. Reflecting their minority status on council, conservative opposition appeared slight when minor issues were brought to its attention, such as when Riddick offered a resolution “to put into proper condition the pump on the southeast corner of Hawk and Liberty streets.” When Riddick, who was a member of the Committee on Schools, requested a “special committee” be appointed to study “the location and condition of the colored public schools,” his efforts were less than fruitful. Riddick remained a tireless proponent of black education and was appointed as a member of the Board of School Trustees in 1883 (8).

Throughout the 1870s, however, the efforts of Riddick and others proved ephemeral. The council ultimately limited opportunities for African-American students despite passing legislation in 1871 to create a black public school in each of the four wards. In reality, only two schools were created, although under missionary effort there had been at least three schools. According to the 1872 city directory, these schools were located on Church and Bute Streets. The directory listed a private school for blacks on James Street run by a J. D. S. Hall, but the number of children attending and the type of instruction received were not reported and thus, it is difficult to determine the success of its operation. By contrast, white students attended four public schools in the city, thus receiving greater opportunities to advance (9).

In his 1877 annual report to the councils concerning educational progress, Mayor John S. Tucker stated that the Bute Street school was dilapidated and in need of extensive repair. Further, the school staff consisted of two persons: the rector, R. A. Tucker; and a grammar instructor, Miss M. E. Melvin, who would therefore be able to instruct only a limited number of students. Mayor Tucker informed the councils that the city rented this property and did not own it, which he saw as a waste of city expenditures, given the condition of the structure. He proposed, therefore, that the councils appropriate sufficient funds to “build another school-house for colored children and dispense with the one now rented for that purpose.” This, he felt, could be accomplished because certain revenues were already available and others were anticipated (10).

The councils, however, appeared reluctant to respond to the mayor’s request. The mayor was not alone in his urgings. School Trustee W. Talbot Walke and School Superintendent R. L. Page supported the mayor’s request. Indeed, the Norfolk African-American community had impressed upon Walke their own sense of urgency as well. Walke noted that “there is a great demand on the part of the colored population, for additional School room . . . .” This was certainly necessary as Walke further indicated that “several hundred children in the Primary Departments are ready and anxious to enter the Public Schools.” Certainly, Walke and others felt the pressures coming from black demands to provide more adequate facilities. Poor conditions were not new, however, as Cornelius Garner had noted that even the earliest “School was held in an ole buildin’” (11).

Council was not immune to pressures from blacks either, although they proceeded at a snail’s pace. In response to the pressures, in 1877, the councils appropriated funds to purchase two lots “to erect a School House on each, one for the White and the other for Colored Pupils. . . .” Property was acquired and Walke suggested the following year that the purchased Cumberland Street lot was “conveniently located, and well-suited for the purpose” of constructing a new school for black students. Instead of following Walke’s suggestion, council in 1879 obtained a “superior well-ventilated building on Queen Street at a less rent than we have paid for the other” to house African-American students. Norfolk’s African-American student population appeared to be pleased with the new facility as attendance rates soared that year to a rate that exceeded white attendance by six percentage points (12).

Despite the addition of a new facility, the number of schools for African Americans remained at two. In an effort to accommodate more black students, the superintendent instituted a two-session structure, one in the morning and the other in the afternoon. In particular, the superintendent hoped to provide additional primary education to African Americans. Although the number of students accommodated increased, the needs of the African-American community were not met. As the superintendent noted, “We cannot accommodate all who are anxious to enter the Public Schools.”

If we use the history of educational attainment as a barometer of African American advancement after the Civil War, the results are mixed. The Civil War ended slavery but did not guarantee black advancement. African Americans realized this. But as they jockeyed for political, social, and economic power, they constantly reassessed the meaning of freedom. In the process, they championed the cause of education.

Endnotes
1. There have been many works produced recently describing Reconstruction’s impact on African Americans. Perhaps the most comprehensive work on the period is Eric Foner, Reconstruction: America’s Unfinished Revolution, 1863-1877 (New York: Harper and Row, 1988). Foner has also published a very useful small volume that describes the meaning of freedom. See his Nothing But Freedom: Emancipation and Its Legacy (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1983). Another useful resource describing various aspects of Reconstruction is Eric Anderson and Alfred A. Moss, Jr., eds., The Facts of Reconstruction: Essays in Honor of John Hope Franklin (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1991). For an examination of political Reconstruction in Norfolk see Michael Hucles, “Many Voices, Similar Concerns: Traditional Methods of African-American Political Activity in Norfolk, Virginia, 1865-1875,” The Virginia Magazine of History and Biography 100 (1992): 544-66; and Earl Lewis, In Their Own Interests: Race, Class, and Power in Twentieth-Century Norfolk, Virginia (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991), chapter 1.

2. The published population schedules of the Eighth Census (Table III) incorrectly states a total African American population in Norfolk of 4,330. This consisted of 1,046 “free colored” and 3,284 slaves. It is the free colored category that was inaccurately computed as the published gender breakdown indicated 358 males and 678 females, or 1,036. One of the free colored indicated in the individual schedules is listed as an Indian. If removed from the African American count, the number would then be 1,035. See U.S. Census Bureau, Population of the United States in 1860; Compiled from the Original Returns of the Eighth Census (Washington, D.C., 1864), p. 519; and U.S. Census Bureau, Eighth Census, 1860, Manuscript Population Schedules, Norfolk County (microfilm), RG 29, National Archives, Washington, D.C.

3. See Equal Suffrage: Address from the Colored Citizens of Norfolk, Va., to the People of the United States. Also an Account of the Afitation among the Colored People of Virginia for Equal Rights. With an Appendix Concerning the Rights of Colored Witnesses before the State Courts (Norfolk, 1865), 1 (microfilm). See also Lewis, In Their Own Interests, 11-17, 20.

4. Charles L. Perdue, Jr., Thomas E. Barden, and Robert K. Phillips, eds., Weevils in the Wheat: Interviews with Virginia Ex-Slaves (Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1976), 103.

5. Quoted in Luther P. Jackson, “The Origin of Hampton Institute,” Journal of Negro History 10 (April 1925): 138-139. Also, in a letter written to American Missionary Association headquarters, missionary W. L. Coan reported, “I have now got possession of two of the City School Houses. . . .” See, Coan to Whiting, October 21, 1863, Roll 2, in American Missionary Association Manuscripts, hereinafter cited AMA (microfilm, Collis P. Huntington Library, Hampton University). See also, Woodbury to S. S. Jocelyn, October 20, 1863, Roll 2, in AMA; and Woodbury to S. S. Jocelyn, October 29, 1863, Roll 2, in AMA.

6. J. F. Milligan and Company, Norfolk City Directory for 1869 (Norfolk, 1869), xxiv. See also, George Holbert Tucker, Norfolk Highlights, 1584-1881 (Portsmouth, Va., 1972), 121.

7. See The Revised Ordinances of the City of Norfolk to Which are Prefixed the Original Charter of the Borough, and City, and a Collection of Acts and Parts of Acts of the General Assembly, Relating to the City (Norfolk, 1866), 159-160; and The Ordinances of the City of Norfolk to Which is Appended the Charter of the City (Norfolk, 1875), 156.

8. Hucles, “Many Voices, Similar Concerns,” 562-563.

9. J. H. Chataigne and W. Andrew Boyd, compilers, Norfolk and Portsmouth Directory, 1872-1873. Throughout the first half of the 1870s, the number of students attending Norfolk’s schools was slightly more than 6,000. Of that number, African American school attendees numbered slightly more than 1,000.

10. See Message of John S. Tucker, Mayor of the City of Norfolk, Virginia, to the Select and Common Councils Together With Municipal Reports for the Year Ending December 31st, 1876 (Norfolk, 1877), 13.

11. See Message of John S. Tucker, Mayor of the City of Norfolk, Virginia, to the Select and Common Councils, Together With Municipal Reports for the Twelve Months Ending June 30th, 1878 (Norfolk, 1878), 73. See also, Perdue, Weevils in the Wheat, 103.

12. See Message Ending June 30th, 1878, 73. See also, Message of John S. Tucker, Mayor of the City of Norfolk, Virginia, to the Select and Common Councils, Together With Municipal Reports for the Twelve Months Ending June 30th, 1879 (Norfolk, 1880), 82.

Michael Hucles, Assistant Professor of history at Old Dominion University, is the author of essays on blacks in postbellum Norfolk, Virginia and is currently working on a coauthored history of the city’s postbellum black community