The Anglophone Caribbean immigrant and partisan politics in New York City, 1900-1972.

Much has been written about the Caribbean immigrant, mostly those of Anglophone ancestry in recent years. Most of these studies are sociological, but they deal with the sociology of politics, identity and ethnicity. Calvin B. Holder, for example, in his "The Rise of the West Indian Politician in New York City, 1900-1952," gives a brief overview of Caribbean immigrant political activity, but his article is brief and incomplete. (2)

Similarly, Constance R. Sutton and Elsa M. Cheney, (eds.), in their Caribbean Life in New York City: Socio-cultural Dimensions, deal with immigrants from all parts of the Caribbean, but partisan politics is not part of this otherwise informative mosaic of Caribbean immigration and intercultural complexities. (3) There are also an increasing number of recent books and articles. Philip Kasinitz's book Caribbean New York: Black Immigrants and the Politics of Race (4) is excellent, but this work emphasizes race relations and questions of ethnicity. Party politics, that is, politics within the party structure, which usually propels the successful individual to a very good material life without ever having to run for public office, is given only brief look in this book. Neither does Winston James' excellent book Holding Aloft the Banner of Ethiopia: Caribbean Radicalism in Early Twentieth Century America deal with the subject of party politics. (5) Most recently, Mary C. Waters book, Black Identities: West Indian Immigrant Dreams and American Realities is a compelling socio-anthropological description and discussion of the Caribbean immigrant struggle to find safe harbor in America, but political struggle finds no place in this work. (6)

For a more comprehensive understanding of the Caribbean immigrant experience in the United States it is necessary to examine also, how West Indian immigrant populations infiltrated, supported, and abandoned as necessary, the major political parties in the pivotal city of New York, rising through the ranks of these organizations to positions of power, prestige and influence.

Within the American population today, it is not well understood that leaders of political organizations in any city or state are power and patronage givers. The Borough President of Manhattan, that is New York County, though an elected official, was not as powerful as the Chief of Tammany Hall, the Democratic Organization of New York County. In effect, the Borough President served at the indulgence of the Tammany Hall organization, where its "chief" wielded enormous power. It was the same with the mayor if he were a Democrat, since the New York County Democratic organization, Tammany Hall, decided who would run for mayor. The successful candidate understood that Tammany Hall could always desert her/him at the next election if she/he did not behave as a good Democrat. Even the governor was beholden to Tammany Hall, because its influence in New York City and indeed, throughout the state, was formidable. Tammany Hall, representative of the northern wing of the Democratic Party, was by the beginning of the 20th century a very useful home receptacle for the significant wave of Anglophone Caribbean immigrants that began after the Spanish American War.

THE CARIBBEAN IMMIGRANT AND THE LURE OF PARTY POLITICS

Many of these immigrants had worked on the Panama Canal where they had come in contact with Americans, and from this association a significant number concluded that the United States would be a much more fruitful place than their homelands for their personal advancement. So they came. Others were drawn by tales of great financial wealth available to the enterprising. Others merely wanted to be employed. But the 1917 Immigration Act slowed the pace of Caribbean immigration, as did the 1924 Act. Interestingly both acts, though racist, preferring persons from Great Britain and northern Europe, insured that the successful Caribbean immigrant would now be, at the least, a literate one.

The 1924 Act, among other things, imposed literacy skills and professional competence tests, and these tests essentially skewed West Indian immigration to persons of Anglophone ancestry. It also had the salutary effect of insuring that these immigrants would find it easier to obtain a job. (7) The 1924 immigration law predisposed entrance to those who were milliners, tailors, shoe makers, machinists, and others with vocational skills, so that by 1930 English speaking immigrants' occupational skills and literacy were significantly above that of the indigenous white or African American population.</p> <pre> As Professor Ira Reid noted: Since 1925, farmers and agricultural workers have never formed more than four percent of the total employable Negro immigrant alien population ... Distinctly out of proportion to the prevalence of such classes in the occupational schemes of the native-born Negro are the high proportion of workers who have been employed as skilled artisans, as bankers, agents, merchants, clerical workers in commerce and finance, and as professional persons. Consistently have skilled artisans formed from one third to one fourth of the Negro workers admitted since 1923. Those employed in commerce and finance have formed from 9 to 19 percent of total workers, while the proportion of professional workers has been from 4 to 19 percent of the total. In this field lies the seed for much of the social maladjustment  noted in subsequent discussions, for the foreign-born Negro brings into the American picture skills and experiences for which little or no opportunity is provided for Negroes in the United States save in the limited occupational field of racial services. (8) </pre> <p>Apart from the "filter effect" caused by immigration laws, Caribbean immigrants possessed certain cultural characteristics and economic perspectives that distinguished them from the indigenous population. From the early twentieth century to WWII, the majority of these immigrants were from the middle and lower socioeconomic classes. For the most part, the well-to-do did not emigrate. The emigrants, therefore, were those who perceived that a wealth of opportunity unavailable to them at home existed in the United States.

Furthermore, in the West Indies, ordinary education to the high school level was expensive. Not until the late 1950s was high school education free. Quite the opposite was the case in the United States. Anyone with an iota of ambition could attend high school, and although there was racism in New York City, Philadelphia, Boston, Washington D.C. and Miami, the major target cities for West Indian immigrants, there were opportunities for a good middle class life, regardless of race and racism. As a result, a number of entrepreneurs, politicians and intellectuals quickly emerged from the immigrant population far out of proportion to their numbers. As Oscar Handlin noted in his book, The Newcomers: Negroes and Puerto Ricans in a Changing Metropolis:</p> <pre> From among the West Indian Negroes, a substantially large percentage of entrepreneurs have emerged. In part that was due to the fact that on the island the shopkeeper was a familiar figure ... the idea that through trade one could achieve a rise in status. But it was also due to the fact that ... that in the very act of immigration, they often defined their own goals of improvement. (9) </pre> <p>Disregarding race in America as best they could, the earliest wave of West Indian immigrants remained deeply concerned with class. Coming from cultures where status was defined not so much by income, but by a combination of education, manners, home ownership and wealth, immigrants strove mightily to acquire all four characteristics of high status, and the sooner the better. Therefore, menial labor should be avoided at all costs unless absolutely necessary, and an escape from it speedily accomplished. In Harlem: The Making of a Ghetto, Gilbert Osofsky observed:</p> <pre> "Menial labor was, among first generation Negro immigrants, considered a sign of social degradation, and looked upon with disgust. Most were forced to accept such jobs initially, but were strongly motivated by their traditions to improve themselves." (10) </pre> <p>Aided in great part by the specifications of the immigration acts beginning in 1917, Ira Reid noted that,</p> <pre> Consistently have skilled artisans formed one-third to one-fourth of the Negro workers admitted since 1923. Those employed in commerce and finance have formed from 9 to 19 percent of the total workers, while the proportion of professional workers has been from 4 to 19 percent of the total. In this field lies the seed for much of the social maladjustment noted in subsequent discussions, for the foreign-born Negro brings into the American occupational picture skills and experiences for which little or no opportunity is provided for Negroes in the United States save in the limited occupational field of racial services. (11) </pre> <p>This view is corroborated by George E. Haynes, who during WWI was head of the Bureau of Negro Economics in the Labor Department of the federal government. "The success of West Indians," he stated, "is partly the result of training and initiative developed in a far more favorable environment, as they had the benefit of whatever opportunities their West Indian surroundings offers." (12)

With this background of expertise and political involvement at home, coupled with a sense of "otherness" which propelled them to prove to their new neighbors that they were not part of the "huddled masses," but a people who had successfully brought about the end of slavery by armed confrontation and passive resistance some 32 years prior to slavery's end in the United States, they immediately saw politics as part of the "main chance" to establish themselves in the U.S. It was the Democratic Party in the North that seemed most suited for their purposes.

THE WEST INDIAN IMMIGRANT AND THE PARTISAN SHIFT

From the Civil War through Reconstruction and into the early 1930s, the Republican Party held sway among the African American population. After all, the Republican Party was the party of Lincoln, and Lincoln had freed the slaves. Not only that, all Republican presidents, from Lincoln through Theodore Roosevelt had shown, in public anyway, concern for the Negro. Indeed in the case of Theodore Roosevelt, having invited Booker T. Washington to the White House to talk about patronage, that patronage he had sent Washington's way to dispense to his friends across the country, Roosevelt got in trouble with a large segment of the racist segment of the American population. Yet in 1905 Roosevelt himself said, on the occasion of his Lincoln Day dinner address, at the Republican Club of New York City on February 13, 1905:</p> <pre> In the first place, it is true of the colored man, as it is true of the white man, that in the long run his fate must depend far more upon his own effort than upon the efforts of any outside friend.... The colored man's self-respect entitles him to do that share in the

political work of the country which is warranted by his individual

ability and integrity and the position he has won for himself. But the prerequisite of the race is moral and industrial uplifting. (13) </pre> <p>So far the speech, though mixed, was passable. But soon, as if compelled by the heavy burden of Southern history, Roosevelt capitulated to political demagoguery. Quoting the Right Reverend Robert Strange, Bishop Coadjutor of North Carolina who preached race purity, Roosevelt expressed in this same speech the bishop's view that, "Full recognition of the fundamental fact that all men should stand on equal footing, as regards civil privileges, in no way interferes with recognition of the further fact that all reflecting men of both races are united in feeling that race purity must be maintained." (14)

His successor as president, Republican William Howard Taft, strayed even more rightward from the party of Lincoln:</p> <pre> The Negro should ask nothing other than an equal chance to quality himself for the franchise, and when that is granted by law, and not

denied by executive discrimination, he has nothing to complain of. We believe that the solution of the race question in the South is largely a matter of industrial and thorough education. We believe that the best friend that the Southern Negro can have is the southern white man, and that the growing interest which the Southern white man is taking in the development of the Negro is one of the most encouraging reasons for believing the problem is capable of solution. The hope of the Southern Negro is in teaching him how to be a good farmer, how to be a good mechanic; in teaching him how to make his home attractive and how to live more comfortably and according to the rules of health and morality.... The Negro is essential to the Southern order that it may have proper labor....

(15) </pre> <p>The presidential election in 1912 of Democrat Woodrow Wilson placed African Americans in political limbo. Wilson regarded the Negro as an inferior being. He encouraged the expansion of segregation in the federal departments of the United States government, and was nonplussed when people like Oswald Garrison Villard, the grandson of the great abolitionist William Lloyd Garrison, expressed concern.

Most African Americans were not surprised by Wilson. Even though he had been Governor of New Jersey and president of Princeton University, he was a Southerner who had shown no particular concern for African Americans. And no relief could be expected from the three Republican administrations that succeeded Wilson between 1921 and 1933, and none came. By 1933 the Republican Party of Reconstruction and the Civil War was essentially indistinguishable from the Southern wing of the Democratic Party: racist, bigoted and benighted.

Nevertheless, in 1928 in Chicago Oscar De Priest was put up by the Republican Party for a seat in the United States House of Representatives. He won and held his seat to 1932. His victory came as a consequence of the massive African American migration that had taken place from South to North, and from rural areas to urban centers, beginning at the turn of the 20th century through WWI. By 1928, it had become hard for a white person to be elected in South Chicago. So the Republicans seized the moment and elected De Priest, only to lose that seat to the Democrats in 1932, underscoring the national shift of African Americans to the Democratic Party. This shift was in great part due to the Northern wing deciding to portray itself, by 1933, as the party of immigrants, an imprimatur abhorrent to Southern Democrats. (16)

In New York, as early as 1900, Tammany Hall had developed a sophisticated operation dedicated to the idea of getting out the vote from every nook and cranny of the city. Not only that, the party missed no opportunity to enclose within its ranks anybody from anywhere who could become a Democratic voter. For immigrants then, from wherever, the Democratic Party seemed the logical place to be. While some Caribbean immigrants joined the Socialist party and others the Communist party, the majority of West Indian immigrants realized early that the best bet for their advancement was with the Democratic Party.

HUBERT HARRISON AND THE SOCIALIST PARTY

Perhaps the earliest of the Caribbean immigrants who did not bow to the historical weight of the Republican Party on African Americans was Hubert Harrison. Born in 1883 in St. Croix, Danish West Indies, Harrison arrived in New York in 1900, finishing high school in 1907. Finding a job in the U.S. Post Office in New York and with aspirations to be a political critic, he found success with a number of newspapers, including the New York Times. In one of his essays, he criticized Booker T. Washington and his relations with the Republican Party. His antipathy to the Republican Party outraged Charles W. Anderson, the Republican Party's most important representative in New York, and a henchman for Booker T. Washington. It was through Anderson that Washington, the major conduit for Republican Party patronage, dispensed political favors in New York City.

It was no laughing matter when Harrison showed contempt for the understanding between President Theodore Roosevelt and Booker T. Washington. Such behavior left unchecked could conceivably threaten Anderson's exalted political and economic status. In fact, Anderson had achieved a very successful career for a Black man in those times. He was appointed Collector of Customs of the 2nd District of New York by Theodore Roosevelt on the recommendation of Booker T. Washington in 1905, a job he held for 10 years. He did such a satisfactory job that even when the Republicans were out of office and Woodrow Wilson became the President, he was allowed to remain in that job. Edwin R. Lewinson in his book, Black Politics in New York City notes that when Anderson left office, the New York World summed up his work thus; "In Collector Anderson's time three complicated and important revenues, the income tax, the corporation tax, and the war revenue tax have made this office the most difficult as it is the most important ever held by a colored man. He has stood the test." (17)

It was this same Charles Anderson who disapproved of Hubert Harrison. He used his influence to have Harrison fired from his job with the United States Post Office. Writing to Booker T. Washington in September 10, 1911, Anderson wrote:</p> <pre> Do you remember Hubert H. Harrison? He is the man who wrote two nasty articles about you in the New York Sun. He is a clerk in the Post Office. The Postmaster is my personal friend, as you probably know. Harrison has had charges preferred against him and I think he's liable to be dismissed from his service. I will attend to Harrison. If he escapes me he is a dandy. (18) </pre> <p>Fired from the post office in 1911, fed up with the Republicans and perceiving no safe harbor among the Democrats, Harrison, as his biographer Jeffrey B. Perry relates, "Became a full-time activist with the Socialist Party in late 1911 and quietly rose to prominence with his writings and talks in support of Socialist candidates ..." (19) Harrison supported himself by writing for the Socialist press, such as the New York Call and the Internationalist Social Review. But by 1914 Harrison concluded that the Socialist Party put the white race first and class after. Incensed by this betrayal, he left the party. (20) Harrison wrote two books; The Negro and the Nation in 1917 and When Africa Awakes in 1920 and throughout his life he continued to push for the independence of African Americans from the Republican Party.

He died in 1927, a few years before a massive shift of African Americans away from the party of Lincoln, to the Democratic Party. Although Harrison never held elective office, his posture and his example inspired many African Americans in New York to seek achievement and make contributions in political parties. In his obituary, the Pittsburgh Courier remarked,</p> <pre> His achievement should prove an inspiration to many young Negroes, for despite the handicap of poverty he became one of the most learned men of his day, and was able to teach the wide masses of the race how to appreciate and enjoy all the finer things of life, to glance back over the whole history of mankind, and to look forward "as far as thought can reach." (21) </pre> <p>With Harrison's passing, no other West Indian immigrant of his stature could be found in the minor Communist and Socialist parties. By 1932, most African Americans and West Indian immigrants perceived the future clearly, and it was in the Democratic party, the party of immigrants.

J. RAYMOND JONES: INTO THE DEMOCRATIC PARTY

Perhaps the earliest figure of West Indian immigrant ancestry in the Democratic Party was J. Raymond Jones, who eventually ended up as Chief of Tammany Hall in 1964. His career began with his involvement in the Garvey Movement, but by 1925, with the precipitous decline of Garveyism, Jones needed a political home, and to him the Democratic Party seemed especially hospitable.

Born in St. Thomas, Danish Virgin Islands in November 19, 1899, Jones found himself in Harlem after the United States bought the Virgin Islands from Denmark in 1917. In Harlem he found employment as a Red Cap at the Pennsylvania Railroad Station, where there was a significant number of other Caribbean immigrant Red Caps and Pullman Porters. Soon this group, with typical immigrant aspirations, began calling themselves "The Penn Station Gang," and from which by WWII, two distinguished political leaders emerged, Jones and Herbert L. Bruce.

In 1926 in the New York City Democratic mayoral primary campaign between George Hylan and Jimmy Walker, Jones and other members of the Red Cap Gang threw themselves in the campaign as alternatives to the majority of African Americans who still supported the Republican Party. They also distanced themselves from the indigenous "United Colored Democracy," a group of patronage recipients, but who for years had not done much to raise Black political involvement in Harlem. To distinguish themselves Jones and his group called themselves "New Democrats." Explaining their repudiation of the Republican Party, and the main political objective of their early years as a nascent political group, Jones recalled in 1983:</p> <pre> However, we, the New Democrats, made up in great part by West Indian immigrants, had no such allegiance and could work, secondly, for the election of Black judges. When we were able to cooperate with the United Colored Democracy, made up mainly of indigenous Negroes, our influence increased and our earlier demands for Black representation could be pressed. The realization by 1930 that this cooperative Democratic effort was possible and politically promising was the second reason for focusing on capturing the municipal judgeship. It should be stressed that originally all of us in Harlem merely wanted judges in our district, preferably Black, but by 1930, any astute observer could see that Blacks were getting fed up with the Republicans. Certainly, with the State Legislature, the Governor, and the City Board of Aldermen predominately Democratic, the already minimal advantage of being a Republican had been further seriously reduced. (22) </pre> <p>In the 1932 presidential campaign Jones convinced the New York State Democratic Party Chairman, Vincent Daley, that a Democratic club was necessary in Harlem. With such a club, the "New Democrats" believed they could significantly increase Black voting strength for the Democrats. Soon a club was established called the Vin Dale Club, clearly a play upon the name of Vincent Daley, and a transparent effort to stroke his ego. That way Daley could say that he had good friends among the Black people in Harlem. In those days, with rapidly changing demographics, being able to say this was important for white New York City politicians.

The Vin Dale Club, like most clubs in the Democratic organization had certain responsibilities. This club was directly associated with the U.S. Post Office in Manhattan, a patronage dispensary, and the employer of significant numbers of African Americans. The Vin Dale Club soon asserted itself as the primary political organization for much of Harlem, and since it was not under the control of Tammany Hall, it operated, as Jones remarked, as an "employment agency and local court of appeals for the Post Office Department employees." (23) The establishment of the Vin Dale Club, particularly in the era of depression, was important because it guaranteed employment in federal institutions for African Americans, employment which could not be terminated in favor of white people because it was directly based on the votes of Black people. No leader of Tammany Hall or the mayor even, would be foolish enough to attack this arrangement. It was from this base then that Jones and his group began to build their leadership within the Democratic Party in Harlem. In this attempt Jones and his group were aided greatly by the organizational structure of the Democratic Party and to fortuitous massive migration of African Americans to New York during and after WWI. Jones recalls how the party structure and migration came together to propel him and Black politics upward in New York City.</p> <pre>

The basic unit in the hierarchy has remained the Assembly District, from which representatives were elected to the State Assembly. For Tammany's purposes, each Assembly District has a District Leader, usually a male, and a co-leader, a female. Sometimes if the district is large, then as already indicated it is split in two, East and West or North and South, as appropriate. Each Assembly District (A.D.) is divided into election districts and each of these election districts (E.D.) has a captain responsible for liaison with the District Leader, and for getting out the vote on Election Day. At present, within each E.D. the number of individuals elected to form this Assembly District's county committee are proportioned to its number of registered party members. If, for example, there are forty election districts in and A.D., and if each E.D. has ten county representatives to the A.D. committee, there would be 400 county committee members in the A.D., and they along with committee

members from the other A.D.'s form the New York County Democratic

Committee which is Manhattan, with a Chair who is second in command to the County Leader. At present, the Assembly District

Leader is elected by popular vote of registered Democrats, and

together these District Leaders form the Executive Committee of

New York County over which the County leader or "Tammany Chief"

presides.... We knew, too, that the Democratic organization had

noticed the demographic shift taking place in New York, and we

counted on sensible people reading properly the signs of the

times." (24) </pre> <p>By 1939 America was not yet at war, but President Franklin D. Roosevelt's New Deal policies had already begun easing the Depression miseries, and things were looking up in Harlem. In that year, Jones left the 22nd Assembly District and tried to become a leader in the 19th Assembly District where there was a white leader, but where the population was predominantly African American. He lost in this attempt and as he tells it, when he returned to the 22nd District he found that in his absence a new African American Assembly District Leader, Daniel L. Burrows, had been elected. But although the District Leader was Black, Jones, a member of the club from which the District Leader had been elected was nevertheless considered the man to see for Black votes. This power, real or presumed, was enhanced in 1941 when A. Philip Randolph threatened to lead a march on Washington protesting discrimination in federal employment. This caused President Roosevelt to issue Executive Order 8802 that established the Fair Employment Practices Commission, and dictated that there would be no racial discrimination in federal projects from then on. This meant that if the Executive Order was properly enforced, then the employment of Black people would be increased, and maybe pay scales would be, if not equalized, enhanced.

The increasing black political organization, and pressure for political jobs in Harlem under the leadership of J. Raymond Jones and a number of emerging Caribbean leaders, within the Democratic Party hierarchy, resulted in the increase in the number of jobs at high levels within the city, state and federal governments. Jones recalls the way it was beginning in 1941. "Another positive result of my interventions were two jobs for my people in the Internal Revenue Service; one went to Richard Thomas and the other to Enoch Clark." When in 1947, Jones had reached a position in the Democratic Party hierarchy to offer a white friend a magistrate's position which the fellow considered too low, "I gave it to a Black person. In this way, another Black man was put on the Magistrate's Court." (25)

Although Jones at that time was merely leader of an influential Democratic Club, not a District Leader, his influence in the Black community caused him to be elected chairman of the District County Committee of the 22nd Assembly District (A.D.) in 1941, another position within the party with influence and perks. This placed him in a position second in power to the District Leader and gave him a voice in the larger Tammany organization.

In 1944, the Reverend Adam Clayton Powell, Jr., an African American who had been elected to the New York City Council in 1941, decided

that he would run for a new Congressional district that encompassed much of Harlem. He enlisted the aid of Jones in his campaign. However, there were problems, for the 21st A.D. Leader was none other than the formidable other Harlem West Indian immigrant, Herbert L. Bruce, and Bruce was not a friend of Adam Clayton Powell, Jr. But Jones knew that if he supported Powell, and Powell became a Congressman, it would be better to have that friendship than that of Bruce, who was well known by 1944 as a cantankerous individualist. Powell and Jones decided that Jones should run against Bruce in the 21st A.D. for its leadership, which Jones attempted, and failed. Nonetheless, Adam Clayton Powell was elected, becoming the first Black Congressmen from New York State. Eventually he turned out to be one of the most influential representatives in the U.S. House, and by 1961 he became the Chairman of the House Education and Labor Committee, one of the most powerful committees in the United States Congress.

After losing out to Herbert Bruce in the 21st A.D. in 1944, a number of events conspired to levitate J. Raymond Jones to be the District Leader for the 22nd A.D. That same year the District Leader, Daniel Gavagan, resigned to become a member of the New York State Supreme Court, leaving a small window of opportunity for Jones.</p> <pre>

"Since I was the chairman of the County Committee of my Assembly

District," Jones recalls, "it meant I was responsible for overseeing

the election of the new District Leader. In this capacity I decided

that I should become a candidate. This I knew was not going to be easy because of the ethnic antagonisms already apparent in the

district. At this time the district was divided almost evenly among

Jews, Blacks, and Irish with a few marginal Puerto Ricans and

Italians. It soon became apparent that the Jews and Irish would not support Jones, but if an Irishman were a candidate, the Blacks and Jews would not support him, and so on. It was a very interesting

political situation, one which did not bode well for me." (26) </pre> <p>In the end though, after a series of intricate political moves, Jones was elected District Leader. In that same year however, the number of Assembly Districts in New York County were reduced from 23 to 16, and when that was done, the 22nd Assembly District was redrawn and called the 13th. Somehow, perhaps because of its size, or because of its racial makeup, the 13th Assembly District was divided into East and West. In the East, consisting mostly of Black people, Jones became the District Leader, and the 13th Assembly District West, with mostly whites, obtained a white Leader.

Jones' election to District Leadership and Adam Clayton Powell's election to the U.S. House of Representatives made Jones, in 1944, arguably the most powerful politician in Harlem, even though he held no public elected office. As a result he now had the full attention of the Tammany leadership.

In 1945 the mayorship of Fiorello LaGuardia came to an end. He came in with President Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1933, and interestingly, left with him. LaGuardia was never a true Democrat. Most of the time he stymied the efforts of Tammany Hall to run New York County, and President Roosevelt, who disliked the Tammany organization, supported him. So with the passing of FDR and the absence of Mayor LaGuardia, the times were changing for the better for Democrats such as J. Raymond Jones.

It was also a time for Irish Americans to reassert their authority. In the mayoral campaign of 1945 William O'Dwyer called upon Jones, by this time an expert in New York City's election law and procedures, for support. This very successful collaboration caused Mayor O'Dwyer to float the idea of Jones becoming the Chief of Tammany Hall. But this was 1945, and Jones felt that he, an African American, would have a difficult time getting the support of the entire Tammany organization. He declined the honor.

There were, of course, other rewards. He took instead the job of Personal Secretary to the new Mayor. The job was in fact a sinecure, but he was now the Mayor's "eyes and ears" in Harlem. Two years later Jones became Secretary to the Board of Elections, and in 1947 he was appointed Deputy Commissioner of Housing to Robert F. Wagner, son of Senator Robert F. Wagner, Sr.

As J. Raymond Jones saw it, these positions were not merely personal aggrandizements. He demonstrated that these positions made it possible for him to do something for Harlem, his main constituency, and African Americans in other constituencies.

Jones recalled that in his position as Deputy Commissioner of Housing he was able to bring together a number of groups in Harlem between 1947 and 1951 that placed so much pressure on the Borough President's office, that the Borough President had no choice, but to build playgrounds and improve roadways as well as garbage collection in Harlem. So successful were these initiatives that by 1951, around Manhattan, political pros began calling Jones "The Harlem Fox." In 1953 Jones decided to "resign" from politics. The main reason was an extreme dislike for the new mayor, Vincent Impellitere. Jones was actually fired from the Department of Housing, thus insuring his so-called retirement.

Nevertheless, he retained the leadership of his own club, the Carver Democrat Club, and he kept up his relations with Adam Clayton Powell, the now powerful African American congressmen from Harlem, who soon in 1958 called on Jones to assist in his reelection campaign. For Congressman Powell, having Jones as his campaign manager guaranteed victory; for Jones, despite his "retirement," was still "The Fox" of Harlem, and a giant figure in the Democratic Party. In fact, in retirement Jones was actually working as the secretary to Democratic Judge Gerald Colkin. It should be noted, that Jones had no typing skills, and did not take dictation. This was a patronage position in which he merely kept the judge's company, listening to operas that both loved, and helping the judge to cultivate his roses on the roof of the courthouse building!

He remained in this position until 1958, when he resigned even the leadership of his own club! This was a year when Adam Clayton Powell, the Congressmen from Harlem, got into serious trouble with federal authorities about his income tax. It was also the year when the Chief of Tammany Hall, at that time Carmine DeSapio, decided that the Italians would now take control of Harlem, through surrogates. In this, DeSapio was assisted by the West Indian immigrant Hulan E. Jack, the first African American Borough President of Manhattan. Powell and Jones decided that since the Tammany organization would not support Powell because he had endorsed General Dwight D. Eisenhower, a Republican, for reelection as President in 1956, then they had to do something about Tammany's power in Harlem; preferably rid it of white hegemony once and for all. Powell's 1958 reelection campaign therefore became a referendum on white political rule in Harlem. When Powell easily won reelection without DeSapio's help, Harlem was finally rid of Tammany's hegemony.

J. Raymond Jones' association with Adam Clayton Powell continued amicably from the 1958 election until the Presidential election of 1960, when at the urging of U.S. House Democratic Speaker, Sam Rayburn, Jones pledged his support to Lyndon B. Johnson for the Democratic presidential nomination. This was based on a deal whereby Rayburn agreed, that if Jones and Powell supported Johnson at the Democratic Convention, then Powell would be given in the next meeting of the Congress the position of Chairman of the House Labor and Education Committee. Although it seemed fool-hardy at that time to support Johnson, Jones explained the decision this way:</p> <pre> Win or lose then, the Kennedy option was never the most attractive. I thought that Lyndon Johnson had a long shot at the Democratic nomination, but in fact Johnson's possible candidacy was not overly important either. What was supremely important was that he was Rayburn's boy; therefore, in any eventuality Rayburn, being the Speaker of the House and a very formidable personality,

could guarantee Powell's chairmanship of the Education and Labor

Committee. It was only necessary to support Lyndon Johnson at the

convention on the first ballot. If he won, we won. If he lost, we won. It was the kind of politics I preferred. (27) </pre> <p>Lyndon B. Johnson did not win the nomination, but became Vice President, and Powell got the chairmanship of the House Education and Labor Committee.

It should be noted that J. Raymond Jones at this time, though a powerful figure in Democratic politics, held no public electoral office. Yet no sooner was Lyndon B. Johnson confirmed as Vice President than back in New York City, Democratic Mayor Robert F. Wagner, who had been Jones' boss at the Housing Authority back in the 1940s, found himself in 1961 at odds with Carmine DeSapio, the Chief of Tammany Hall. DeSapio wanted the mayor out. As a result, Jones found himself the man in charge of election petitions and getting out the vote in the mayor's campaign. There were actually two elections going at once, one for public office such as Mayor, and the other for offices within the Democratic Party. In the latter Jones retained his Leadership of the 12th A.D. East while assisting the mayor. The New York Times recorded the event:</p> <pre>

In another bitter race, Mr. Jones and Mrs. Edrie Archibald,

running on the Wagner Line, triumphed easily over Tammany choices

in the contest for the district leadership in the Thirteenth

Assembly District East, in West Harlem. They beat Antonio Rasmus,

clerk in the office of the Board of Elections, and Mrs. Elizabeth

Barry better than 4 to 1. Mr. Jones had been leader for the District

for two years. (28) </pre> <p>For this work, Harlemites believed that Jones would be the sure choice for Chief of Tammany Hall when Carmine DeSapio retired. But this expectation was frustrated by the so-called "reformed" elements in the Democratic Party, which engineered the election of Edward Costikyan as Tammany chief when DeSapio departed. This was 1961. There was no guarantee, however, that after Mayor Wagner's term ended in 1965 he'd run again. If not New York City could end up with a Republican mayor, as well as a Republican governor in the next four years. Because of this possibility, Jones reasoned that something had to be done.</p> <pre> Because of those conditions and their implications for the future, I was presented with a dilemma. If I remained as District Leader without a Democratic mayor or governor in 1965, I would have very little political power. If, however, I became a councilman in a Democratic City Council, I would automatically have a very strong power base. I would certainly have more leverage than any new councilman, because of my years of service as a District Leader and a member of Tammany's Executive Committee. My powers would probably be second only to the President of the City Council within the Council and more so outside the Council. (29) </pre> <p>And so in 1963 when a vacancy occurred in the city council, Jones was put forward by the Democrats and he won handily. He was now not only a member of the City Council, his first publicly elected office, but an Assembly District Leader, and a member of the Executive Committee of the Democratic Party of New York County. He was now, one of the most powerful political figures in New York City.

It is from this position within the Democratic Party that Jones and his cohorts in his own Democratic club the "Carver Democratic Club," named after the great African American scientist, George Washington Carver, decided the time had come to have either an African American mayor or an African American woman for Borough President of Manhattan. To most New Yorkers in 1962, this idea was nearly unthinkable. But the person Jones chose to run was the very tall and formidable civil rights lawyer Constance Baker Motley. Mrs. Motley was well known in the 1960's for her successful fight in 1962 to enroll James Meredith at the University of Mississippi, and she was now General Counsel of the N.A.A.C.P.'s Legal Defense Fund. But Mrs. Motley was now a New York state senator and a friend of the Manhattan Borough President, the African American Edward Dudley, a member of Jones' Carver Club. Consequently, Jones and Dudley decided to put Motley's name forward to replace Dudley who resigned from the Borough Presidency in 1963 to become a judge. This led to a fight in the New York Democratic Party organization, but so sterling was Mrs. Motley's character as well as her resume, and so powerful was Jones' endorsement that finally the Democrats decided that it was unwise to oppose such a person. In the end, Motley succeeded to the Borough Presidency, a position she held with great tenacity and dignity, before becoming a judge in the Court of Customs.

Early in 1964 Jones considered retiring from party politics, but every time he considered this, a number of his supporters argued that he deserved to be rewarded with the leadership of Tammany Hall, and in 1964 the timing turned out to be right. With DeSapio gone, eased out by Mayor Wagner, and with the Chief Edward Costikyan leaving, Raymond Jones became the Chief of Tammany Hall, the first African American person so elected.

Jones remained Chief between 1964 and 1967. His tenure was successful, even though he had to battle continually with New York Democratic Senator Robert Kennedy for control of the Tammany organization. He resigned in 1967, spent two more years as a member of the City Council and retired from politics at age 70. Reflecting on his life in politics in 1989, Jones said:</p> <pre> In New York County during my years as Leader of the Carver Democratic Club, as City Councilman, District Leader, and "Tammany Chief," my program and that of my collaborators involved "paying dues," recruiting the best possible people, and promoting them strongly when they were ready. If anyone were to check the record, it would be seen that we were enormously successful. We have had several Black Borough Presidents, male and female; we have had City Registrars and City Clerks; a number of state Assemblymen; and of course, two Congressmen. I believe this is an enviable record, better than any other in the United States to this very day. (30) J. Raymond Jones died at Harlem Hospital in 1991. </pre> <p>HERBERT L. BRUCE

At approximately the same time that J. Raymond Jones began organizing to achieve political leadership in New York City, Herbert L. Bruce also became a political force in Manhattan (New York County). Born in October 20, 1900 in Bridgetown Barbados, West Indies, his father died three years later, and Bruce came to the United States with his mother in 1913. While attending public schools in New York City, his mother died in 1917. Bruce soon found a job as a hotel page boy, and by age 26 became captain of bellmen at a New York hotel. Like J. Raymond Jones and other West Indian immigrants, he too worked at the Pennsylvania Railway Station as a Red Cap, where he labored for three years. In 1930 he opened a restaurant with a friend in Manhattan, a business which he ran successfully for 44 years.

Bruce became involved in politics in 1935 when, he said, "I supported financially Henry Shields for the political leadership of the 21st Assembly District," which he lost." (31) A member of the Beaver Democratic Club, Bruce's and the club's objective, like that of Jones' Carver Democratic Club, was to develop and install African American political and civic leadership in Harlem. These clubs, as noted previously, were located in certain Assembly Districts, and their goal was to get out the vote for the Democratic Party, in return for positions in the Democratic Party hierarchy, as well as real jobs. (32) This would give Black people the ability to produce viable candidates for electoral offices in New York City, State, and nationally. By 1934 however, the Beaver Democratic Club merged with the Ramapo Democratic Club which was interracial, forming the Beaver-Ramapo Democratic Club.

In 1935 the merged club successfully ran Herbert Bruce for Leader of the 21st Assembly District. Irma Watkins-Owens writes that, "The coalition, supported by both the Amsterdam News and the Age, eventually threw its support behind Bruce, whom they believed to be untainted by 'white influences.'" (33) It was a close race. Bruce won with 252 votes to his white opponent's 212. (34) This was an astonishing development and as Bruce himself recalled, "I became the first Negro in the United States to have a voice in the lower council of the Democratic Party." (35)

This smashing unprecedented victory also made Bruce the first African American member of Tammany's Executive Committee. This development was of more than ordinary significance, because for until WWII, in most instances, Assembly Districts even with a majority African American population, would elect white persons as their District Leaders. As Leader of the 21st A.D. Herbert L. Bruce became a power to be reckoned with in New York City politics. Known for his individualism, Bruce soon showed his independence. He gave notice to the Tammany organization in 1937 that he would not support Tammany's candidate for Mayor because, "If I support this man for mayor it will mean my leadership, and that is more to me than electing a mayor for Tammany Hall and their bunch of crooks." (36) No reprisal for this disobedience resulted, for Bruce was well known for getting out the vote. Instead patronage remained steady. At the 1938 New York State Constitutional Convention, for example, Bruce was rewarded with a clerkship at $2,000 per year. (37)

Since Herbert Bruce was very successful in getting out the vote, he was not adverse to complaining to the Tammany leadership about its neglect of his district and Harlem generally. Writing to Judge Clarence H. Low on January 8, 1938, Bruce complained:</p> <pre> I am enclosing a set of figures showing the vote in the 21st Assembly District in 1936 (National and State) and the 1938 State election ... I call to your attention to the following facts. In 1934, the year before I was elected Leader of the District, the total registration for this District was only 18,160. In 1936, with very little money to spend it raised it to 36,093. In 1938, I had no money to spend, and it dropped to 28,151. In 1936 I carried the District for [Governor] Lehman better than 3 to 1 and the vote for [Franklin D.] Roosevelt was close 4 to 1. In that year I had no 'Independent Citizens Committee' to help me get the vote out. I have 55 Election Districts roughly averaging 750 voters each ... I have 15 Election Districts in which live about 5,000 White voters. This is the area west of Amsterdam Ave., and extends to the Hudson River. As you will see in the 1938 vote the majority for Lehman was lessened in these Districts thereby lowering the plurality of the Governor. As I informed you the Governor was deliberately cut in those Districts for Racial reasons. In the Eastern part of the District which is 100% Colored a large vote was cast for Lehman thus increasing his majority total for the entire District. In conclusion and in deference to these facts it is my honest opinion that the Independent Citizens Committee in Harlem contributed almost nothing to the size of the Lehman-Poletti vote in Harlem. Its only value was 'window-dressing' purposes only. I may add that the leading members of this Committee were nearly all supporters of LaGuardia in the 1937 campaign (this includes the Urban League crowd). As you know this was a very disastrous year for the City Democrats.... (38) </pre> <p>An intense political operative, Bruce, obsessed with the need to bring out the African American vote. Writing to Dr. C.B. Powell, the Director of Publicity for the Negro Division of the National Democratic Committee, Bruce argued that the "most effective method of bringing out a heavy registration among Negroes for the Democratic Party in the 19th and 21st Assembly Districts of New York County," (39) would be: "A four page newspaper, the 'Negro Democrat,' tabloid size, dealing with the necessity of all Negroes registering and supporting Democratic candidates. Pictures of candidates and short impressive stories featuring the record of accomplishment to the local mind."

He did not hesitate to explain how to expedite his idea. "50,000 copies to be distributed by election districts into every home giving one hundred percent coverage of the Negro population of the 19th and 21st A.D.s. Cost of editing, printing and distributing, $300." (40)

In addition to Bruce's dedication to the politics and solution of the problems in the 21st Assembly District, he made tremendous efforts to increase African American influence and membership in the Democratic Party. He did not hesitate to excoriate the party when it failed to support African Americans for electoral offices.

When the Democrats lost the election for a judge for the City Court, Bruce blamed the Democratic Party for failing to nominate a Negro candidate. "The failure of the leadership of Tammany Hall to select a Negro to run on the Democratic ticket must be held responsible for the loss of this judicial office by the Democrats.... Negroes are a part of the Democratic Party but will refuse to support that party if the party leaders insist on refusing to recognize them as American citizens." (41)

Bruce was not averse to appealing directly to elected officials for patronage of African Americans. On June 7, 1936 he wrote New York's Democratic Governor, Herbert H. Lehman, to request the appointment of his co-leader of the Beaver-Ramapo Democratic Club, Mrs. Haynes, to a job in one of the state's social work agencies. "I know," he said, "... that your wide social interest and broad minded attitude will assure the Negroes of New York fair representation in these departments." (42)

Twelve days later, he insisted that Mrs. Haynes be appointed to the state's Social Welfare Commission, emphasizing a need for Negro involvement in the solution of social welfare problems facing the New York's black communities. "I submit here Mrs. Haynes to you as one of the six commissioners at large. She would be able to advise the commission on Negro problems throughout the state in a manner that would bring credit to the State and to her race." (43)

The relationship between the high incarceration of Black offenders and the bigotry of police and corrections officials, including the Parole Commission, did not escape his ever vigilant and energetic gaze. He brought this problem also to Governor Lehman's attention. He pointed out that a high percentage of young Negroes were in New York State criminal institutions. Why they were there was one matter that required serious attention. There was a subtle hint to the governor that the large number of Negro inmates resulted from racial prejudice. But Bruce, ever pragmatic, thought something could be done now, to ameliorate this egregious situation. Perhaps an understanding and sympathetic Negro on the Parole Board? He did not hesitate! He, as usual, had a candidate. "In this connection may I represent the name of Arthur H. Taylor for your consideration for the position of Deputy Parole Commissioner. Mr. Taylor is an attorney of outstanding reputation in this community and would be a credit to the commission." (44)

Four years later, Bruce, ever vigilant, ever faithful, nominated and vigorously and successfully lobbied for Arthur H. Taylor's appointment as Assistant U.S. Attorney in New York State. A Cincinnati newspaper, The Union, properly credited Bruce for the appointment, noting that:</p> <pre> It was through Tammany leader Herbert L. Bruce of the 21st District that Arthur A. Taylor, Yale University graduate, was named assistant U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. Taylor assumed his new duties last week. Until his appointment, there had been no Negro appointees in the U.S. Attorney's office under the New Deal. (45) </pre> <p>All this, without Herbert Bruce holding any public office. Bruce's successes in the patronage game did not with time diminish his ardor. On October 7, 1940, when fears of communism were mounting, he wrote to the Honorable John J. Bennett, the chair of the investigating committee.</p> <pre> It has come my attention through the newspapers that you are about to form a staff of investigators, lawyers etc to investigate and prosecute subversive elements seeking to sabotage the new Defense Program. Of course I understand that this staff will be created and work in secret. We in Harlem are well aware of the great activities of the Communists among the people of Harlem and owing to the low economic status of our people they have made large inroads. For this reason I should like to see a Colored man on your staff as investigator. Knowing that you always make it a policy to include Colored men in your department I am recommending for your consideration a member of my Club for a position as investigator. (46) </pre> <p>It was this indefatigable questing for political positions for "Negroes" and "colored" people, as he termed it, that distinguished Herbert Bruce from the other African American leaders in New York. While J. Raymond Jones and Hulan Jack were not slouches in the patronage wars, Herbert Bruce stood out, for it seemed as if nothing escaped his always questing gaze. Not even the 1939 New York World's Fair. To Governor Lehman, Bruce wrote of the need of Negro representation on the Temporary State Commission for the Fair. "I am aware," he noted,</p> <pre> that this is an honorary position, but may I again stress the necessity of adequate representation. I wish to nominate Mr. Julius S. McClain, 211 W 138 St. N.Y.C. as one of the commissioners to be appointed by you. Enclosed you will find a record of his educational and work background. I wholeheartedly endorse him and trust you will

find it possible to appoint him. (47) </pre> <p>Bruce was always careful like most of the other leaders to provide evidence of their recommendee's education. This is important to remember, for by the 1920s, African American higher educational levels had risen spectacularly, no doubt aided by the additional input from West Indian immigrants. Bruce was not only dedicated to increasing African American leadership in New York. He also used his influence to try to increase African American leadership and voting power nation-wide. Following the 1944 congressional elections, Bruce wrote to James M. Barnes of the State Department in Washington, D.C., suggesting a meeting of Negro politicians from the eastern and western states "to discuss methods, ways and means of holding on to the Negro vote. If there is anything that I can do to assist in any way, please do not hesitate to call upon me." (48) There is no available record that a meeting resulted from this but it marked the man as one who saw potentials everywhere for African American advancement despite the long odds.

The seemingly inevitable backlash against successful West Indian politicians and entrepreneurs caught up with Herbert Bruce too. He eventually came under attack by a clique of indigenous and immigrant leaders, anxious not to be tainted with a West Indian bias towards other West Indians. This group, called the West Indian-American Committee for Better Government, published in 1939 a pamphlet in support of Mal Frazier, a Democratic Party committeeman candidate whom Bruce did not support. The pamphlet titled: "It is Time for You to Stop and Think. Is There a West Indian Issue in This Campaign? If So--Why?" The pamphlet read:</p> <pre>

Vote for Mal Frazier, Native of Virginia, citizen of New York City for 40 years. Veteran of the World War. Herbert Bruce has accused Americans of being prejudiced against West Indians. What are the facts? Bruce, Democratic Leader of the 21st A.D. is a West Indian. Burton, Republican Leader of the 21st A.D. is a West Indian. Bruce named [J. Raymond] Jones to run for leader in the 19th A.D. and Jones is a West Indian. Bruce promised Judge Toney's job to Tom Dyett, a West Indian. Judge Watson is a West Indian. Bruce could not be elected leader except by American votes ... Native born Americans are 90% of the votes in the district.

Does this look as if the American Negro was prejudiced? Has the time come when an American who has served his country in

peace and war cannot run for District Leader without being insulted--his character attacked and threatened with bodily harm? Does Bruce think he is Hitler? We who are supporting Mal Frazier--foreign born as well as native born refuse to go into the gutter. But we refuse to bow down to Bruce and his little clique who are

trying to control the colored citizens of New York. (49) </pre> <p>Independent as ever, Herbert Bruce ignored the angst and soldiered on promoting the best people he could find. The "For America Association" also attacked Bruce and his associations with other West Indians. In one of its pamphlets the Association asked:</p> <pre> Is this fair? Bruce ousts Mrs. Elizabeth Ross Haynes so he can have a West Indian woman for Co-Leader. Is this fair? Leader Bruce is a West Indian. The State Committeeman, Thomas B. Dyett is a West Indian. The majority of his Negro job holders are West Indians. Now Mrs. Haynes must be thrown out to make room for a co-leader who is a West Indian. Is this fair? We have no prejudice against our West

Indian Brothers ... But is it fair for West Indians, who form only

14% of the total Negro vote, to hog all offices and jobs? Haven't

they enough without sacrificing Mrs. Haynes? Voters! Mothers! Save

Mrs. Haynes!! Give justice to Mrs. Haynes!!! (50) </pre> <p>Philip Kasinitz notes the mixed feelings that surrounded the election of West Indian immigrants in New York party politics during the 1930's.</p> <pre> The election of Herbert Bruce, a native of Barbados, as a Tammany district leader in 1935 marks the beginning of a period of West Indian ascendancy in New York black Democratic politics ... His election and subsequent attempts to place allies in positions in the organization sparked fears within the black political circles of a West Indian takeover. (51) </pre> <p>This observation represented the state of affairs for the 1930s, but by 1944 two events assuaged the indigenous population's suspicions, the election of Reverend Adam Clayton Powell, Jr. to the U.S. House of Representatives, and clear evidence of support of West Indian leaders for indigenous Black people. In fact, Herbert Bruce publicly refused to support Powell, whom he called a "Communist controlled rabble-rouser ..." (52) Yet he maintained his leadership in the party and in 1945, fed up with the corruption of the Tammany organization, tried to set up a rival organization. This went nowhere, but it is testimony to Bruce's independence and honesty. (53)

Redistricting of the Assembly Districts however forced Herbert Bruce to run for the leadership of the 12th A.D. He lost, but remained a power in the Democratic Party machine, loudly endorsing William O'Dwyer of Brooklyn for mayor in 1945. After all he could still get out the votes even without a direct patronage base (54)

Running to reclaim his leadership in the 12 A.D. in 1951, Bruce triumphed, still anti-Powell and anti-Carmine G. DeSapio, the Tammany Leader. Between 1951 and his retirement in 1954, Herbert Bruce stayed busy. When Robert Wagner running for Mayor in 1952 found it difficult to name a running mate for Manhattan's Borough presidency, Bruce was there with African American Assemblyman Hulan Jack, (an immigrant from St. Lucia), lobbying for an African American candidate. Interestingly, even though the group endorsed Chauncey Hooper, there was Jack on January 1, 1954, being sworn in as the first Negro Borough President of Manhattan. (55)

BERTRAM BAKER

Bertram Baker, born in Nevis, British West Indies, in 1896, was the son of a minister. Immigrating to the United States in 1915 during his late teens, he, like so many Black people of the period, found his first job as an elevator operator in New York City. But like immigrants of that period, as he worked he took correspondence courses in bookkeeping and accounting, as vehicles out of the ghetto. He showed early signs of maturity and responsibility, for in a few years after his arrival he obtained a job at the department store, Cox and Nostrand in Brooklyn, New York. He rose to head of the bookkeeping and accounting departments, and did so well that he eventually developed a lucrative private accounting business.

Like his immigrant contemporaries in Manhattan, Baker joined the Brooklyn Democratic Club, but by 1930 he recognized the need for a Democratic organization of Black people in Kings County (Brooklyn). Along with J. Raymond Jones and Herbert L. Bruce, Baker discerned the shift already taking place among Black people away from the Republican Party. The potential for Black political empowerment and with it opportunities for occupational and material advancement was not lost on this ambitions young man. Recognizing that the path to power and material gain could be improved by a club of his own, he formed the United Action Democratic Association, in 1931.

The structure of the Democratic Party in Brooklyn was similar to that of Manhattan and the other boroughs, with the usual leadership hierarchy of Election Districts, Assembly Districts, and a County Leader, who was not as powerful as a Chief of Tammany Hall. This hierarchy in the party gave a party leader, of any rank, remarkable powers without having to run for public electoral office. This situation and its possibilities were not lost on the perceptive mind of Bertram Baker. Within a year, "six Negroes in Baker's district served on the Kings County Democratic Committee, the body which chooses district leaders," notes Edward R. Lewinson in his book, Black Politics in New York City. "Largely owing to the influence of Baker's organization," he concludes, "the number had increased to thirty-two by 1934 and thirty-nine by 1936." (56)

In 1939, Baker, now a growing power in Brooklyn's Democratic Party, was appointed United States Deputy Collector of Internal Revenue. This was a patronage job, given his ability to marshal Black votes for the Democratic Party. But this personal advancement would certainly not have been possible without the formation of a separate Black club. He ran for New York City Council in 1941 and lost, but the Democratic Party, ever mindful of the clout of Bertram Baker's club, rewarded him with a job as a confidential Inspector in Brooklyn's Borough President's Office, then held by a Democrat. In his second try for the City Council in 1945, he failed again. This was in contrast to his counterpart in Manhattan, Adam Clayton Powell, who had been elected to the City Council in 1941 and by 1944 was already on his way to become the first Black congressman from New York. Anxious to avoid a loser's label, Baker shifted his sights to the New York State Assembly. In 1948 he became the first African American to be elected to the Assembly from Brooklyn. Even though Baker reached the New York State Assembly in 1948, his road to this position varied from his counterparts in Manhattan. They worked within the Democratic Party structure before seeking public electoral office. J. Raymond Jones, Herbert L. Bruce and others rose within party ranks before attempting to gain public office. Baker, however, became a state Assemblyman before becoming a District Leader. This position, District Leader in the 12th A.D., Brooklyn, he did not achieve until 1953. Nevertheless, with that election Bertram became the first African American District Leader in Brooklyn's Kings County. Lewinson estimates that by the 1950's, membership in Baker's Democratic Club had reached an impressive 1,600 persons. (57)

By the time Baker reached the New York State Legislature, he had been in politics some eighteen years, but not as an elected official. In 1955 the Legislature finally passed the Metcalf-Baker bill, outlawing racial and religious discrimination in Federal Housing Authority and Veterans Administration financed housing. (58) To enforce the law, the legislature gave the State Commission Against Discrimination enforceable oversight powers. (59) Baker reasoned that this law would, in great part, assist in the elimination of ghettos, and would bring about the integration of schools. He reasoned that an African American population that is properly employed and paid would be able to escape the deprivation that produced ghettoes. Today this reasoning sounds naive, but it should be remembered that the year before, 1954, after the U.S. Supreme Court's Brown v. Board of Education ruling, a great many believed that racial discrimination, in education at least, would disappear in ten years! In the State Assembly, Baker rose to Majority Whip in 1966, another first, since no African American had ever risen that high in leadership of the Legislature. (60)

Baker was more than an ordinary legislator. Believing that civics was still an important aspect in primary education, he successfully sponsored legislation called "Know Your Government," intended to educate high school students in the intricacies and complexities of government. (61) As part of this initiative, he pushed through legislation entitled "Girl of the Year" intended to give the opportunity for young females to observe the legislature in session. (62) This was important because until the Baker sponsored legislation, the emphasis was upon young men.

Not only was Baker involved in these civic efforts, he was instrumental in sending a first African American student from Brooklyn, George Fennel, to the United States Naval Academy in 1954 with the cooperation of Congresswoman Edna F. Kelly. Later Kelly and Baker sent a second, Brooklyn African American student, Malvin Bruce, to the Naval Academy. Although Baker did most of his work in the New York State Assembly, his efforts in Brooklyn were not insignificant. In Brooklyn he served on a committee that urged Borough President John Cashmore to declare May 17th as N.A.A.C.P. Week in honor of the U.S. Supreme Court's Brown v. Board of Education 1954 watershed ruling, which ruled segregation in schools unlawful, but which also eventually brought about the end of segregation in other

places of secondary contacts. (63)

Baker was also a devotee of sports. He was instrumental in creating the first Little League and the first Pony League baseball teams in Brooklyn in the Bedford Stuyvesant area. Not only did he serve as Secretary of the American Tennis Association (the ATA) but he also served a term as president of the New York State Tennis Association. When he eventually became Executive Secretary of the American Tennis Association, he was instrumental in breaking down racial barriers for African American tennis players. (64)

Baker announced his decision to retire from the State Assembly in 1970. He had been in the legislature for more than two decades, risen to one of its highest posts, and left a sterling record. His retirement prompted Stanley Steingut, a Brooklyn Democrat and Minority Leader in the New York State Assembly at that time to describe Baker as, "One of the wisest, kindest, and most beloved members of the legislature." (65) Bertram Baker died at the age of 87 in 1985.

HULAN E. JACK

Quite a different record characterized the career of Hulan E. Jack. Born on December 29, 1905 on the island St. Lucia, West Indies, he recalls in his autobiography, Fifty Years a Democrat: "Born not to wealth or fame, I faced a world of hardship and discipline. At an early age, I made up my mind that I would forge ahead to find my place in the sun." (66)

In his early teens, Jack's father had become involved with the Marcus Garvey movement, making periodic trips to the United States, where he established friendships that enabled him to lodge his son in the U.S. in 1925. For the young Jack, America from a distance appeared a place of "milk and honey." (67) Very soon, however, he learned that America was not the paradise he imagined from reading magazines, which in the overseas edition, seldom mentioned racial problems, or even the presence and despair of the poor.</p> <pre> But I also learned that one thing the foreign digests and magazines said was true: the United States is the only country in the world that provides everyone an opportunity to move forward, to develop, and to become great. I learned one other thing quickly: that in this country the Negro man or woman must resolve to use his or her capacities to the fullest, and to exercise patience, mutual respect, and unfettered

good will toward all in the struggle for the progress of the

American Negro minority. (68) </pre> <p>Therefore, like so many West Indians before him, he immediately enrolled in night classes at New York University, aiming to earn a bachelor degree in business administration. But in 1932 Jack was laid off from his job at a paper box plant and was unable to afford his fourth year at the university. Fortunately, he was soon recalled to his old job, but he did not return to night school, deciding instead to embark on a life in politics.

Looking around the New York City landscape Jack, like most Caribbean immigrants before him, sought to find that avenue which through hard work and the swift appropriation of any opportunity, would result in material advancement. Going to college had always been the mantra for West Indians. Jack claimed that he was unable to afford it, so he joined the Democratic Party in 1930, after he was assured of periodic jobs as signature collector for election petitions.

In his autobiography, Jack wrote that he entered politics as a way to serve his fellow man. This was written years after he had retired, not in his youth. That claim then, as the primary reason for entering politics, should not be given full credence, for if nothing else, Caribbean immigrants for the most part realized early that there were all kinds of opportunities in New York, especially for the educated and aggressive Negro. And again the Democratic Party, the party for immigrants, was there for them. Jack, writing in 1982, put it this way:</p> <pre>

I also learned of the discriminatory practices of the Democratic

Party, but I recognized this: that if I entered the Democratic

Party, and enough Negroes entered the Democratic Party, within a period of time we could make the changes that would give the party the signal that it was forced to recognize our hopes and

aspirations--and also our determination to remain in the Democratic

Party. So I chose to become a Democrat, and in 1930 I became an

active member. (69) </pre> <p>Jack's first job, like that of so many other West Indian immigrant members of the New York Democratic Party, consisted of collecting signatures on voting petitions and other menial jobs, but he quickly worked his way up to captain of his Election District, an impressive position for an African American man in the Depression era. His timing was superb, because due to Depression constraints, African Americans in the North began to realize that despite the bigotry of the Southern Democrats, the Northern Democratic Party was a more promising place than the Republican. Jack and other West Indian aspirants to political office benefited from a subtle, but real improvement in Northern racial relations. He wrote that by 1940, there was "a clamor of the district for its own representation--not absentee representation--in the State Assembly, the party sought a Negro candidate, and they picked me as that candidate." (70) This agitation reached its peak in the early 1940s, no doubt prompted by the confrontative militance of that quintessential New York politician, Adam Clayton Powell and the political agitation of other immigrant politicos and radicals adjoining his district.

Elected to the New York State Assembly in 1946, the same year he was elected District Leader of the 14th Assembly District in Harlem, Jack served with more than passing distinction until 1953, when Tammany Hall decided to support him to thwart an expected Republican plan to run an African American for Manhattan Borough President. Because of the preponderance of Democratic voters in Manhattan and the full and aggressive support of Tammany Hall, Hulan Jack won easily, becoming New York City's first African American Borough President, an event regarded, then as now, as highly significant, not only in Harlem, but throughout Black America.

The first term, four years, of Hulan Jack's Borough Presidency were marked by his emphasis on fair treatment for all of his constituents. Interestingly, Jack's insistence on rigid protocol and his untiring visits to all regions of his constituency, perhaps saved him from the charge of having a West Indian bias. Charges of this bias had been aimed mostly at J. Raymond Jones and Herbert Bruce in the 1930s, but by the 1940s these expectations of bias had diminished. But ethnic politics is the norm in all boroughs of New York City, and soon many powerful and racially prejudiced white New Yorkers accused Jack of a predisposition towards his African American constituents. This was gallingly unfair, for Jack was a stickler for protocol and evenhandedness. Even the New York Times, after his death declared:

"Over the years, Mr. Jack established a record as the untiring author of legislation for human rights and against racial discrimination of any type. Though his bills usually fell by the wayside, he remained convinced that he was not wrong, but merely ahead of his time." (71) This insistence on principle caused a break with Mayor Robert Wagner in 1960, and in great part, served to force Jack out of office three years after his convincing 1957 reelection as Manhattan's Borough President.

The process began when William Haddad, a reporter for the New York Post newspaper, accused Jack of conflict of interest, when it was discovered that a city-employed contractor had renovated his apartment for free. After a hung jury and a subsequent trial Jack was eventually given a suspended sentence in 1960. He claimed later that Mayor Robert Wagner could have rescued him from these flimsy accusations, but didn't because the mayor was angry with him for not supporting the mayor's program to reduce the powers of the Borough Presidents, and centralize New York City governance in the mayor's office. This reasoning is plausible, for Jack's alleged transgression was not unusual in New York City at that time.

Forced out of office in 1960, Jack showed remarkable political resilience. Six years later, New York Democrats sent him back to the state legislature, but in 1970 he was again indicted on Federal charges of conflict of interest and conspiracy. Convicted and fined five thousand dollars plus a three month jail sentence, Jack appealed, but when the United States Supreme Court declined to hear his case he went to jail and served his term.

Although he tried to gain reelection while under investigation, the scandal hurt his campaign and he lost in the 1972 primaries. His political career was over. He died in December, 1986, at age 80 years.

WESLEY MCDONALD HOLDER

The career of Wesley McDonald Holder is somewhat unique. He was never, like J. Raymond Jones and Hulan E. Jack in Manhattan, a power in Brooklyn's Democratic organization. He achieved success by promoting the careers of other Democratic politicians, mostly in Kings County, Brooklyn, and in other New York counties.

Born in 1898, in British Guyana, he migrated to the United States, settling in New York City in 1920. There, like a number of West Indian immigrants in the Twenties, he joined Garvey's United Negro Improvement Association and soon became one of its organizers in New York, the Midwest and in the South. Responding to what can be called a Caribbean immigrant compulsion, Holder made certain that he attended college as he worked, obtaining his degree from City College of New York. During WWII, he worked for the War Production Board in Washington D.C., and after the war as a reporter and editor of the Amsterdam News, an African American newspaper in New York. A stint as a researcher in Brooklyn's District Attorney's office provided him with useful political contacts that helped him, when he finally made himself a political "kingmaker' in Brooklyn.

In her autobiography, Unbought and Unbossed, Shirley Chisholm, also of West Indian ancestry, and the first African American woman elected to the United States House of Representatives, recalls that:</p> <pre>

By the later 1940's, the black community was slowly beginning to catch up to Mac's ideas. It was starting to realize that the

[Democratic] organization never had and never would pick black

candidates even if the area became 99 percent black, so black

citizens would have to organize and fight for candidates of their

own. (72) </pre> <p>Holder organized his first successful campaign in 1953 for Lewis Flagg Jr., who became the first African American to be elected judge in Brooklyn. In the 1953 elections, when the Brooklyn Democratic bosses, all white, chose a white outsider as the candidate for municipal court judge, Holder was outraged. "I resented it," he said. "I started abusing all the black lawyers around and they got together and said, 'We'll accept the challenge.' Both O.D. Williams and Lewis Flagg wanted to run. I got them to sit down and they decided on Flagg." (73)

From this beginning "Mac" Holder began his career as the man behind the office holder. In Shirley Chisholm's first run for Congress, Holder was the campaign manager and chief aide to Chisholm. In subsequent years he advised and engineered the successful campaigns of a number of Black politicians to the State Legislature, City Council and Congress. New York's first African American mayor, David N. Dinkins valued his counsel and his keen behind-the-scene efforts. Shirley Chisholm recalled Holder's talents: "In his time Wesley McD. Holder must have supported nearly everybody in Brooklyn politics and opposed nearly everybody. He has never been elected to public office, but he has left his mark. (74)

Mac Holder, though never an elected official, was always a Democratic political activist, especially in the struggle for racial equality and racial harmony. This activism was not without danger, especially when confronting racist groups. In fact, he was once jailed in Miami for protesting the Ku Klux Klan, and was arrested in Arkansas for "disturbing the peace." When arrested in Arkansas, Holder requested a lawyer, but was told that the nearest lawyer that would represent him was in Oklahoma. He represented himself and was let off with only a five dollar fine. (75) Holder also confronted racial discrimination at home, in Brooklyn. Congresswoman Shirley Chisholm recalled:</p> <pre> In 1948, when major Brooklyn hotels still barred black groups, Mac persuaded the Towers Hotel to cater a Phi Beta Sigma fraternity dance. It was the first such color line break in the borough. A few years later, Mac was one of a group that needled city hall over the lack of black representation in government until a Negro, Clarence Wilson, was appointed as a magistrate in Brooklyn. (76) </pre> <p>Like so many of these West Indian immigrants, with their compulsive concern for education, success in one's job was never enough for Holder. He took a keen interest in intellectual activities, founding a literary society and a debating society for Black intellectuals in Brooklyn, where, absent documentation, political as well as literary debates can reasonably be assumed took place.

By 1988, Mac, as his proteges affectionately called him, was so renowned for public service that New York's Mayor Edward Koch awarded him the LaGuardia Medal in 1988. (77) Holder died five years later at age 95.

WALTER H. GLADWIN

The career of Walter H. Gladwin is less well documented than his counterparts because he early on decided to remove himself from the more visible electoral races to become a criminal court judge, a political appointment.

Like Hulan Jack, Gladwin was born in British Guyana in 1903. Migrating to the Bronx in his teens, he worked as a printer, and as an elevator operator while he attended college. Graduating from City College in 1936, he entered the New York Law School from which he graduated in 1941. After graduation Gladwin found employment as deputy collector of internal revenue, but perhaps more important for his political progress, he eventually worked in the Democratic Bronx District Attorney's office. (78)

During World War II, the demographics of all New York boroughs, with the exception of Richmond County (Staten Island), changed significantly. In the Bronx, the Puerto Rican and African American population increased to such an extent, that the Democratic Party decided that Black and Puerto Rican representation was a necessity. When in 1953 a seat for the State Assembly in the Seventh Assembly District seemed promising, the Bronx Democratic organization ran Gladwin who won, thus becoming the first elected Black New York State Assemblyman from the Bronx.

Gladwin's victory was somewhat unique. Unlike African American victories elsewhere in New York where the Black population was preponderant or close, Gladwin's district was "approximately 45 percent Black, 15 percent Puerto Rican, and 40 percent Jewish." (79) Gladwin did not stay in the public eye for long. He served in the State Assembly from 1953 to 1957, and was appointed a City Magistrate in 1957 through the support of Democratic Mayor Robert F. Wagner and the Bronx County Democratic Organization, becoming the first African American Criminal Court judge in the Bronx. (80)

Even though Gladwin had moved to the safety of a Magistrate's bench, it did not prevent his wife from becoming co-leader of Bronx's Sixth Assembly District in 1963. (81) His place in the Assembly was taken by Ivan Warner, a son of West Indian immigrant parents. Gladwin retired from the bench for private law practice in 1972, but remained active at various times as President of the Bronx Chapter of the N.A.A.C.P., member of the Executive Board of the Boy Scouts of America and as a director of the Bronx Chamber of Commerce. He died in 1988. (82)

Unlike Shirley Chisholm or Hulan Jack, Gladwin's electoral tenure was short. But it is important to remember that for a Black person to be elected to the New York State Assembly, in 1953, not from Harlem or even Brooklyn, but the Bronx, was more than an ordinary achievement. To become also the first assistant district attorney and a Criminal Court judge in New York City could not have occurred without Gladwin paying his dues as a Democratic Party faithful. Achieving a first in the Bronx places Walter H. Gladwin in the highest rank of those Caribbean immigrants and indigenous Black people who broke the color line before the civil rights era.

SHIRLEY A. CHISHOLM

Shirley Chisholm became the first African American woman elected to the United States House of Representatives in 1968. She, more than anyone else among African American politicians of West Indian ancestry, indicates why Caribbean immigrants achieved so many political "firsts" between 1900 and the 60's. It resulted from what I have called, the "Caribbean compulsion," that burning desire to achieve higher educational, economic and political goals not possible in the islands, but so abundant in the United States. In her autobiography Chisholm writes: "Barbadians who came to Brooklyn all wanted, and most of them got, the same two things: a brownstone house and a college education for their children." (83) It was, indeed, in the beginning, that simple.

Although born in the United States in 1924 of West Indian immigrant parents, Chisholm grew up in Barbados, returning to the United States at age 9, but credits her later successes to the "important gift my parents had given me by seeing to it that I had my early education in the strict, traditional, British-style schools of Barbados." (84)

Her parents influenced her greatly, instilling, what may be regarded as a dual identity, that which in the West Indies is called "Diasporic," the view that West Indians, Africans and African Americans share a common ancestry and a historical consciousness. Lying in her bed at night she heard her parents discuss island politics, the central theme being colonialism; specifically the perceived oppression of the native population by the British. Her father, like so many Caribbean immigrants, unhappy with the politico-racial situation in the West Indies and the United States gravitated to a promising savior, Marcus Garvey. Her father instilled pride in his children, a pride in themselves and their race that was not as fashionable at that time as it is today. (85)

Chisholm was greatly influenced by her father's passion for politics and his dedication to labor unions. She recalls that her father "seemed almost to worship Garvey and was particularly proud of the fact that he was a West Indian, too." (86) She would sometimes accompany her father when he went to listen to tributes held for gone but profoundly revered Garvey. At those memorials "I heard my first black nationalist oratory--talk of race pride and the need for unity." (87)

Adhering to her father's belief that education was the key to success, truly a West Indian immigrant compulsion, Shirley excelled in high school, obtaining in 1942 scholarships to Vassar and Oberlin colleges. Unable to afford the ancillary expenses for those schools, she opted for Brooklyn College closer to home, graduating Cum Laude in 1946.

While in college she met the West Indian political operator, Wesley McDonald Holder, and through him she gained entry into Brooklyn's Democratic Party politics. By 1953 she was actively involved in Holder's successful campaign, to place Lewis S. Flagg, an African American lawyer on Brooklyn's Municipal Court bench, where there were forty nine judges, all white. She remained Holder's protege and a member of his Democratic political club, the Bedford Stuyvesant Political League until a falling-out in 1958. In the meantime she remained active in the regular mostly white Seventeenth District Democratic Club. The falling out with Holder coupled with clear evidence that the essentially white Democratic Club was racist, impelled her in 1960 to form her own club, the Unity Democratic Club, to rid Brooklyn's Seventeenth Assembly District of white control. Philip Kasinitz describes the makeup of the club as,</p> <pre>

a group of black activists (many were New York-born children of

West Indian parents) who were then challenging Brooklyn's white

Democratic machine and its West Indian allies. Like the rest of this group ... Chisholm identified herself publicly with black rather than specifically Caribbean interests. Still she was usually

emphatic about her Caribbean roots and made frequent contact with

Caribbean organizations. Her outreach to this community won her

loyal supporters and a source of funds. (88) </pre> <p>Chisholm continued campaigning for the election of black candidates until 1964 when she decided to run for office herself. In 1964, when Tom Jones, a product of her Unity Club, ran for a vacant seat on the Civil Court bench in Brooklyn, Chisholm decided to run for his State Assembly seat. Although Chisholm faced much opposition, not the least for being a black woman, she won in the primaries, and later defeated two other candidates for the seat. It was a landslide victory for the Democrats and for African Americans in Brooklyn, indeed throughout New York State.

Chisholm held her seat in the State Assembly for three years, introducing 50 bills, of which 8 passed. She was most proud of two; SEEK, a program which financially assisted promising college students from disadvantaged backgrounds; and the other which improved unemployment insurance coverage for personal and domestic employees. (89) She was sponsor also of two other important acts; one which protected women teachers from legal discrimination, making it illegal to revoke tenure rights because of breaks taken during pregnancy. The other provided state aided daycare centers for working mothers.

After a successful three years on the State Assembly, Chisholm decided to run for Congress in the newly created Twelfth Congressional District, Brooklyn. As she noted, "Nine or ten people were eyeing the Democratic nomination to the new Twelfth District seat in the House. City Councilman William C. Thompson, a former state senator, and the Reverend Milton Galamison, the NAACP leader, were among them. So was I." (90)

William C. Thomson, although not nominally endorsed by the Democratic county machine, appeared to be the Democratic choice, but the Unity Democratic Club Committee endorsed Chisholm. In the primaries, Chisholm ran against Dolly Robinson, a woman labor organizer, as well as Thompson. During the campaign, Chisholm recalls that her former mentor, Mac Holder, called her.</p> <pre> My old-time mentor and enemy in recent years wanted to work for me. Twenty years back, he had said he wanted to live to elect a black judge and a black congressman. Now he thought he saw a chance of reaching the second, greater goal with me but, he told me, I couldn't win without him and the people in the streets. Looking back on it, I think he was right.

Mac told me, 'You're the easiest product to sell and I'm going to organize the campaign and sell you.' (91) </pre> <p>With Holder's aide, Chisholm took her campaign to the streets, winning the primary by 1000 votes. During this time, she wrote the slogan "Fighting Shirley Chisholm, Unbought and Unbossed," which slogan would be associated with her for the rest of her political career. In the fall campaign, the Republicans confronted her with the charismatic James Farmer, the former head of CORE, the Congress of Racial Equality. Farmer was a formidable opponent. A great elocutionist, with impeccable civil rights credentials, he was perfect, except for one thing: he had opted to be a Republican. During the campaign Chisholm fell ill and had to undergo surgery to have a benign tumor removed. Although in and out of the hospital and under great physical strain, she struggled on, attending debates and making appearances. The debates she recalls, shattered any chance of a Farmer victory.</p> <pre> Farmer and I had several public debates. I'm sure that he expected the contrast between his muscular, male assurance and poise and his opponent's little schoolteacher appearance would do him a lot of good. It turned out the other way. When I get on a platform, I am transformed; I have even been called Messianic!.. people know I'm there. In our first debate at Pratt Institute, Farmer came out with enormous self-confidence. Before the evening was over, I could see he was getting worried. (92) </pre> <p>Chisholm vanquished Farmer in the November, 1968, election 2 1/2 to 1. She received 70% of the district's vote, thus becoming the first Black congresswoman in the country's history, attending the 91st session of the United States Congress. (93)

Even before the 1968 election campaign, Shirley Chisholm had voiced opposition to the Vietnam war. That stance had not hurt her in the run for Congress. She pursued this topic in the House, but coupled it with the absence of freedom for African Americans in America. "Unless we start to fight and defeat the enemies in our own country, poverty and racism, and make our talk of equality and opportunity ring true, we are exposed in the eyes of the world as hypocrites when we talk about making people free." (94)

In 1969 Chisholm's visibility increased again when she became the honorary president for NARAL, the National Association for the Repeal of Abortion Laws. She launched a campaign for safe and legal abortions, even though many of her peers warned that her position was politically unwise. Their advice went unheeded, because to her, "It was the same old story; they were not thinking in terms of right or wrong, they were considering only whether taking a side of the issue would help them stay in office." (95)

Despite her controversial opinions so early in her congressional career, Chisholm maintained a strong record in Congress for 14 years. In 1970 she wrote and published her autobiography, Unbought and Unbossed, after the campaign slogan used in her race for Congress. But the book, though thoughtful and informative, probably had hidden intentions, for the next year, Chisholm stunned the nation by seeking her party's nomination for the presidency of the United States, thus becoming the first woman to be that bold. She failed in the attempt, but she was applauded by feminists everywhere, even though her own group, the National Women's Political Caucus split on the issue. She served in Congress until 1982, when she resigned because of what she called "her inability to effect change in a conservative atmosphere." (96)

Ten years after resigning, when Chisholm was snubbed and excluded from the New York City Democratic convention, she stated to an interviewer: "It's the same old story ... These Black politicians have never forgiven me for running for President in 1972. They always thought I was too independent. Whites didn't like me because I didn't tow the line of the downtown masters." (97)

But in 1993 the Democratic Party appeared ready to try and make things right with Shirley Chisholm when President Clinton announced his decision to nominate her to be the United States Ambassador to Jamaica. In his announcement, Clinton stated: "Shirley Chisholm is a true pioneer of American politics, whose passion for social justice is unparalleled ... I am honored that she will be my ambassador to Jamaica, and confident that she will do an outstanding job." (98)

Chisholm was unable to serve as Ambassador due to health problems which prevented her from getting security clearance. Shortly after, Chisholm moved to a retirement home in Florida where she planned to rest and read from her 4,000 book library. (99) During her retirement, she kept busy, lecturing at a number of colleges and universities, and speaking at selected politicals until poor health prevented continuing. She died January 1, 2005.

Reflecting on Chisholm's career in Feminist News: Said It in September, 2000, Melissa Cole, emphasized the important example Shirley Chisholm had set for humanity, especially for all women. She noted that Chisholm "fought for the inclusion of domestic workers in minimum wage legislation, delivering a passionate and emotional speech to Congress about her own mother's experiences as a domestic worker," and concluded that Shirley Chisholm should have been president. (100)

CONCLUSION

The academic literature on Caribbean/West Indian immigrants has increased in the past three decades. Scholars in sociology, anthropology, history and political science seem to find them, especially the Anglophone ones, fascinating. Any comprehensive review of the literature will show that West Indians are placed in a category quite apart from other immigrants. The intelligent novice reading this now vast literature will quickly discern that behind the welter of speculation, opinions and conclusions, the most basic question from which all these studies and histories originate is, how well have--or will--this immigrant group do in the United States, since above all, they were not white.

There was always concern, if not expectations, that they would have conflicts with the indigenous Black or African American population. Careful histories have revealed, however, that even though there were, indeed, minor conflicts between foreign born and indigenous Black people before the Second World War, there was, indeed, more cooperation than conflict. In New York City, by the end of World War II, the earlier conflicts were resolved as the indigenous population began its steady march towards what is now called the Civil Rights Revolution. Cooperation was the name of the game, and unfounded fears of West Indian political hegemony disappeared, as West Indian political leaders like Hulan Jack and J. Raymond Jones made certain that their patronage was reserved for anyone who showed a willingness to strive for the improvement of the African American community, regardless of ancestry.

Congressman Charles B. Rangel, on the occasion of J. Raymond Jones' passing in 1991, fulsomely emphasized this point, stressing that, 'It is rare that so many have benefited from the political ingenuity, the commitment to service, and the vision of one man. He has been called a 'true political pioneer,' a 'master statesman,' and a 'distinguished man dedicated to public service.' He truly personified all of these characteristics." (101) Rangel listed an impressive number of people that Jones had pushed into positions of political and occupational power, immigrant and indigenous alike, including Rangel himself. In his remarks to the Congress, Rangel quotes from John C. Walter's The Harlem Fox, Jones' view of his political philosophy unbiased by heritage:</p> <pre> I started my proteges in positions of low responsibility such as Election District Captains, and then, when they had shown an understanding of how the political system worked and a willingness to contribute to the party, they would be sponsored for offices such as State Assemblyman, City Councilman, State Senator, judges of all ranks, and so on. The objective behind this was to develop in the individual a sense of responsibility to the party and its constituency, and with it to provide public exposure. In this manner the aspiring politician or officeholder enlarged his constituency and enhanced his reputation not only among Black voters, but also among the white electorate. </pre> <p>This approach, congressman Rangel remarked, showed Jones' "Unselfish commitment, and tradition of training younger politicians. It is a philosophy that helped safeguard the next generation and maintained high standards of excellence. From J. Raymond Jones we learned the ropes of politics as we learned to make practical our ideals." (102)

Other West Indian "firsts" in party politics in New York did not have a Charles Rangel to speak for them in such adulatory terms, but it cannot be denied that all in this essay were indeed "firsts," and most likely somewhere there were eulogies of similar content and tone. It was for all of them that Chuck Stone, former aid to Congressman Adam Clayton Powell, wrote in his 1968 book, Black Political Power in America, "independent of spirit and proud of their Black skin as well as their heritage, West Indians have refused to accept a subordinate status." (103)

These West Indian immigrants came to the United States at a critical time in our country. They all saw clearly, as immigrants tend to do, opportunities vaguely perceived by the indigenous population, Black or white, pursuing their goals with an intensity so characteristic of immigrants searching for a better life. Their stories in party politics are impressive and deserving of record.

Since the 1980s a significant number of learned and popular books and articles about the Caribbean immigrant, especially those who came to New York City between 1900 and 1960, testifies to the uniqueness of this immigrant group. Writers and pundits appear to be intrigued by them because they were not supposed to have achieved what they achieved simply because they were Negroes. Nearly all writers have pointed out they were an annoyance to both indigenous Blacks and whites, particularly in the period before WWII. Seen as overly aggressive, too British, un-American, snooty, and troublemaking individuals, the United States Congress, U.S. Department of Justice, as well as the State Legislature of New York viewed some of them as subversives and struck back, investigating many in the 1950s, but no charges could be made to stick. (104) There was something about them that made many people, except their employers, uncomfortable. By the 1950s however, these foreigners had proved to the indigenous population that what was so discomfiting a decade or two ago was merely a difference in cultural norms. The fact that these immigrants succeeded in business as well as in politics resulted more than anything else from the benefits of higher education levels which came as a consequence of the immigration acts, that determined that they could not enter the U.S. without educational levels higher that the ordinary population in the Caribbean islands and in the United States.

Furthermore, scholarship concerning Caribbean immigrants for the most part refers to those who came to New York City. It should be clear then that if these immigrants had gone to Biloxi, Mississippi or Little Rock, Arkansas, the success they achieved in those places would hardly be commensurate with that which they achieved in New York City. New York City between 1900 and the end of WWII was a vast city with all kinds of nooks and niches in which the enterprising person could find safe harbor in employment and education. This was not the case in Birmingham, Alabama.

It should be considered also that in New York City in this period, despite the absence of segregation laws, even though there was racial discrimination in ordinary life as well as in the political activities of the two major parties, the Democratic Party between 1930 and WWII underwent a significant transformation in its attitude toward race. The party had decided, as early as the late 19th century, that it would be the party of immigrants. Irish, Italian and Jewish immigrants all gravitated to the party and did well. Black people were among the last to find a home in the Democratic Party, and as this essay has shown, the integration of the party in New York City coincided almost seamlessly with the increasing population of Caribbean immigrants in that city.

Another factor that aided the rapid rise of Caribbean immigrants in party politics was the cultural imperative they brought with them to participate in party politics. In similar fashion the ownership of a diploma or degree was of utmost importance in the home countries. It gave one standing in the community, in most instances would guarantee a higher income, and always translated to an ever rising level in the standard of living.

New York then, was a fertile ground for the fulfillment of the aspirations of these immigrants. It is interesting too, that the influx of Caribbean immigrants to New York coincided with the influx of African Americans from the South as well as the West and Midwest to New York. Also for the indigenous population coming to New York, particularly those from the South, politics was not the name of the game. These migrants had little experience in politics. They had been pushed out at the end of Reconstruction and indeed, often viewed politics as an oppressive exercise. New York Blacks had experience in politics mostly through the Republican Party. But by 1930 the Republican Party had begun to abandon them even though a few indigenous Black people held positions in city and state governments. A few also held patronage positions in the Civil Service Commission. Edwin R. Lewinson devotes an entire chapter to this topic in his book Black Politics in New York City. (105)

One aspect of the Caribbean immigrant experience conspicuously overlooked in historical scholarship is their history within the Democratic Party. The view that politics is concerned only with elective offices is simplistic. This essay presents a more nuanced analysis of the functioning of party politics, and the ways it can redound to the benefit of the participants. An affiliation with the party can provide jobs and careers without ever having to run for elective office. Indeed in many circumstances the job holder is paid more than the elected politician who placed him or her there. Furthermore, because of a well-developed and complex party hierarchy, the enterprising individual may rise to the leadership of the party, thereby holding enormous power without ever having to face a public election. This characterized the Democratic Party at the time of the arrival of large numbers of Caribbean immigrants to this country.

The cases of J. Raymond Jones and Herbert Bruce are instructive, but there are many other, lesser known individuals whose careers paralleled Jones and Bruce. In all of the boroughs, except Staten Island, it was a Caribbean immigrant that led the way in achieving leadership positions for people of color by laboring within the party for years. In Queens County, for example, J. Foster Phillips, a Caribbean immigrant, was elected to the Queens County Democratic Committee in 1935. Not until 1957 however, did he achieve the position of Borough Secretary of Queens. (106) At that time Phillips was 63 years old. During the 1959 fight between the Queens Democratic leader Robert R. Battipaglia and the Borough President John T. Clancy, there was widespread speculation that Phillips would lose his position. But a Borough Secretary is a position less vulnerable than the Borough President, and as late as 1962, J. Foster Phillips was still there. (107)

Similarly, the case of Julius Archibald is instructive. A law school graduate and an immigrant from the Caribbean, Archibald allied himself with the leadership of the 7th Assembly District in Manhattan, but he made certain that he knew the leadership in both the 11th and the 13th A.D. where the formidable J. Raymond Jones was the leader. When it was time for an African American to be considered for a state senate seat, Archibald had the support of all three leaders for the senate district which encompassed all three A.Ds. This made his victory a foregone conclusion, thereby making him the first black state senator in the New York State legislature in 1952.

The lives of these immigrant "firsts," reveal that all had longstanding service within the Democratic Party that usually resulted in patronage positions, that was the name of the game. If one desired public office, valuable support from the party was guaranteed.

It was no accident then that Caribbean immigrants coming to New York City at this transformative time were able to achieve high positions within the Democratic Party structure and eventually hold lucrative and powerful positions in the political as well as the economic life of New York City between 1930 and after.

(1) James H. Rigali is an Adjunct Lecturer in the American Ethnic Studies Department at the University of Washington, John C. Walter is Professor in the Department of History at the University of Washington.

(2) Calvin B. Holder, "The Rise of the West Indian Politician in New York City, 1900-1952," Afro-Americans in New York Life and History, Vol. 4, No. 1, January 1980, pp. 45-59.

(3) Caribbean Life in New York City: Socio-cultural Dimensions, Constance R. Sutton and Elsa M. Chaney, eds., (New York: Center for Migration Studies, 1987).

(4) Philip Kasinitz, Caribbean New York: Black Immigrants and the Politics of Race, (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1992).

(5) Winston James, Holding Aloft the Banner of Ethiopia: Caribbean Radicalism in Early Twentieth Century America, (London: Verso, 1998)

(6) Black Identities: West Indian Immigrant Dreams and American Realities, (Cambridge, Harvard University Press, 1998)

(7) Ira de Augustus Reid, The Negro Immigrant: His Background, Characteristics and Social Adjustment, 1889-1937, (New York: AMS Press, Inc., 1970), pp. 32-33.

(8) Reid, The Negro Immigrant, p. 83-84.

(9) Oscar Handlin, The Newcomers: Negroes and Puerto Ricans in a Changing Metropolis, (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1959), p. 74.

(10) Gilbert Osofsky, Harlem: The Making of a Ghetto, (New York: Harper & Row Publishers, Inc., 1963), p. 133

(11) Reid, p. 83-84.

(12) George E. Haynes, The Negro at Work in New York City, A Documentary History of the Negro in the United States, 1910-1932, (Secaucus, New Jersey: Citadel Press 1973), p. 44.

(13) Richard Bardolph (ed.) The Civil Rights Record: Black Americans and the Law, 1849-1970, (New York: Thomas Y. Crowell Company, 1970,) p. 119-120.

(14) Bardolph, The Civil Rights Record, p. 120.

(15) Bardolph, The Civil Rights Record, p. 121.

(16) For an excellent outline and discussion of this subject see: Gary Gerstle and John Mollenkopf (eds.), E Pluribus Unum? Contemporary and Historical Perspectives on Immigrant Political Incorporation, (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 2001), P. 1-66.

(17) Edward R. Lewinson, Black Politics in New York City, (New York: Twayne Publishers, Inc., 1974), p. 39.

(18) Charles W. Anderson to Washington, December 9, 1905 quoted in Ira Katznelson, Black Men, White Cities (New York: Oxford University Press, 1973), p. 76.

(19) Jeffrey B. Perry, (ed.), A Hubert Harrison Reader, (Middletown, Connecticut: Wesleyan University Press, 2001), p. 14.

(20) Perry, A Hubert Harrison Reader, p. 4

(21) Quoted in Joel Rogers, "Hubert Harrison: Intellectual Giant and Free Lance Educator, (1883-1927)," in World's Great Men of Color, Vol. II, (New York: Macmillan Company, 1972), p. 441.

(22) John C. Walter, The Harlem Fox: J. Raymond Jones and Tammany, 1920-1970, (Albany, New York: State University Press, 1989), p. 51

(23) Walter, The Harlem Fox, p. 57

(24) Walter, The Harlem Fox, p. 57

(25) Walter, The Harlem Fox, p. 73

(26) Walter, The Harlem Fox, p. 75.

(27) Walter, The Harlem Fox, p. 142.

(28) The New York Times, September 8, 1961.

(29) Walter, The Harlem Fox, p. 163

(30) Walter, The Harlem Fox, p. 252.

(31) H.L. Bruce Papers, undated, Personal Papers, Box 1, Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture (herein after cited as SCRBC), New York Public Library. The statement by Bruce needs clarification, for according to J. Raymond Jones, Shields won in 1935, but declined in deference to defeated District Leader Houlihan in return for patronage for his law firm. (see Walter, The Harlem Fox, p. 59).

(32) For a lucid discussion of how the system worked in New York at that time to 1965, see Edward N. Costikyan, Behind Closed Doors: Politics in the Public Interest, (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1966), p. 252-269.

(33) Irma Watkins-Owens, Blood Relations: Caribbean Immigrants and the Harlem Community. 1900-1930, (Bloomington. Indiana: Indiana University Press, 1996), p. 90.

(34) Lewinson, Black Politics, p. 69.

(35) H.L. Bruce Papers, undated, Personal Papers, Box 1, SCRBC.

(36) H.L. Bruce Papers, Box 2, file 2, Sept. 9, 1937, SCRBC.

(37) The New York Times, April 27, 1938, p. 8.

(38) H.L. Bruce Papers, Box 2, file 2, January 8, 1938, SCRBC.

(39) H.L. Bruce Papers, Box 1-Correspondence, September 28, 1940, SCRBC.

(40) H.L. Bruce Papers, Box 1-Correspondence, September 28, 1940, SCRBC.

(41) H.L. Bruce Papers, Box 1-Personal Papers (newspaper clipping), undated, SCRBC.

(42) H.L. Bruce Papers, Box 1-Correspondence, June 7, 1936, SCRBC.

(43) H.L. Bruce Papers, Box 1-Personal Papers-Correspondence, June 19, 1936, SCRBC.

(44) H.L. Bruce Papers, Box 1-Personal Papers-Correspondence, June 19, 1936, SCRBC.

(45) H.L. Bruce Papers, Box 1-Personal Papers, newspaper clipping of The Union, Cincinnati, Ohio, Dec 5, 1940, SCRBC.

(46) H.L. Bruce Papers, Box 1-Correspondence, October 7, 1940, SCRBC.

(47) H.L. Bruce Papers, Box 1-Correspondence, June 7, 1936, SCRBC.

(48) H.L. Bruce Papers, Box 1-Correspondence, circa 1944, SCRBC.

(49) H.L. Bruce Papers, Box 2, 1939, SCRBC.

(50) H.L. Bruce Papers, Box 3, September 7, 1937, SCRBC.

(51) Kasinitz, Caribbean New York, p. 215.

(52) The New York Times, April 13, 1944, p. 11.

(53) The New York Times, January 15, 1945, p. 30.

(54) The New York Times, August 2, 1945, p. 1.

(55) The New York Times, July 28, 1953, p. 1.

(56) Lewinson, Black Politics, p. 85.

(57) Lewinson, Black Politics, p. 85.

(58) The New York Times, March 23, 1955, p. 21.

(59) The New York Times, April 13, 1955, p. 1.

(60) The New York Times, March 10, 1966, p. 36.

(61) Bertram Baker Papers, SCRBC.

(62) Bertram Baker Papers, SCRBC.

(63) Bertram Baker Papers, SCRBC.

(64) The New York Times, March 10, 1985, p. 36

(65) The New York Times, March 10, 1985, p. 36

(66) Hulan E. Jack, Fifty Years a Democrat, (New York: New Benjamin Franklin House, 1982), p. 36.

(67) Jack, Fifty Years a Democrat, p. 38.

(68) Jack, Fifty Years a Democrat, p. 38.

(69) Jack, Fifty Years a Democrat, p. 50.

(70) Jack, Fifty Years a Democrat, p. 52.

(71) The New York Times, December 22, 1986, p. 12.

(72) Shirley Chisholm, Unbought and Unbossed, (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1970), p. 32.

(73) The New York Times, May 26, 1988.

(74) Chisholm, Unbought and Unbossed, p.32.

(75) The New York Times, March 15, 1993.

(76) Chisholm, Unbought and Unbossed, p.32.

(77) The New York Times, May 26, 1988

(78) Lewinson, Black Politics, p. 87

(79) Documentary and secondary information on Gladwin is scarce. I am indebted to Edward R. Lewinson for information on Gladwin who was interviewed for his classic work, Black Politics in New York City. For notes on Gladwin, see p. 87 and passim.

(80) The New York Times, June 13, 1988

(81) The New York Times, July 31, 1963, p. 13.

(82) The New York Times, June 13, 1988.

(83) Chisholm, Unbought and Unbossed, p. 5. Most of the information for this section is from Chisholm's Unbought and Unbossed. Noted for her integrity and absent public refutation I take her recollections as reliable.

(84) Chisholm, Unbought and Unbossed, p. 7.

(85) Chisholm, Unbought and Unbossed, p. 14.

(86) Chisholm, Unbought and Unbossed, p. 15

(87) Chisholm, Unbought and Unbossed, p. 15.

(88) Kasinitz, Caribbean in New York, p. 169.

(89) Chisholm, Unbought and Unbossed, 1970, p. 61.

(90) Chisholm, Unbought and Unbossed, 1970, p.66.

(91) Chisholm, Unbought and Unbossed, p. 68.

(92) Chisholm, Unbought and Unbossed, p. 77.

(93) Daily News (New York), March 9, 1999.

(94) Chisholm, Unbought and Unbossed, p. 97.

(95) Chisholm, Unbought and Unbossed, p. 117.

(96) Jet, (Chicago: Johnson Publishing Company, Inc.), July 27, 1992. p. 6.

(97) Jet, July 27, 1992, p. 6.

(98) Jet, August 16, 1993, p. 16.

(99) Jet, November 1, 1993, p. 13.

(100) Melissa Cole, "She Should Have Been President," Feminist News: Said It, September 2000, Vol. 2, No. 6

(101) Honorable Charles B. Rangel, Congressional Record, Extension of Remarks, June 13, 1991, p. E2220

(102) Rangel, Congressional Record, June 13, 1991, p. E2220

(103) Chuck Stone, Black Political Power in America, (New York: Dell Publishing Company, 1968) p. 191-192.

(104) John C. Walter and Jill Louise Ansheles, "The Role of the Caribbean Immigrant in the Harlem Renaissance," Afro-Americans in New York Life and History, Vol. 1, No. 1, January 1977, p. 57

(105) Lewinson, Black Politics, chapter 9.

(106) New York Times, December 27, 1957, p. 17

(107) New York Times, June 5, 1962, p. 29

John C. Walter (1) and James H. Rigali