Passing FancyPosted in Articles, History, Law, Media Archive, Passing, Social Science, United States on 2010-04-13 02:38Z by Steven |
Legal Affairs – The Magazine at the Intersection of Law and Life
September/October 2003
Daniel J. Sharfstein, Professor of Law
Vanderbilt University
In the Jim Crow South, courts understood that rigidly enforcing the rules against mixed marriage would have been a disaster—for whites.
In 1903, a Young North Carolina farmer named Frank Ferrell went a-courting. Nineteen years old and working on his father’s farm in the town of Zebulon, Frank settled his attentions on Susie Patterson, a quiet woman in her early 20s whose family had lived in nearby Riley since the 1880s. Riley was a town on two borders, smack on the line separating Franklin and Wake counties, in the rolling hills where the Atlantic Coastal Plain meets the Piedmont Plateau.
Evidently, a third boundary ran through Riley as well. While Frank wooed her, rumors circulated that she had some Indian or Portuguese ancestry—and some suggested that her blood ran a few shades darker. Perhaps because she feared the rumors would one day bring trouble, Susie refused Frank’s marriage proposal. But her suitor persisted and won her over. The couple married in January 1904 at the home of a justice of the peace on the Wake County side.
By April of the following year, the couple had a daughter, and Frank had become a drunk. He beat his wife, stopped providing for her and their baby, and in early 1907 abandoned them entirely. Soon after, he hired a lawyer and filed a complaint alleging that he had unwittingly married a black woman…
…During the South Carolina Constitutional Convention in 1895, Congressman George Dionysus Tillman, older brother of the notorious segregationist politician “Pitchfork Ben” Tillman, argued strenuously against a proposal to prohibit marriage between whites and people who had “any” African ancestry. Tillman said that the provision would affect “at least 100” families in his district that had sent their boys to fight for the Confederacy—and that no delegate on the floor could claim to be a “full-blooded Caucasian.” The convention adopted a one-eighth rule. Such actions prompted Charles Chesnutt to muse, “I could almost write a book about these laws, their variations, their applications and curious stories that one hears continually concerning them.” The color line is palpably present in many of the short stories that he published in The Atlantic Monthly at the turn of the century. And a character in one of Chesnutt’s novels became white simply by moving to a state with a more forgiving definition…
Read the entire article here.