Governed by Despots: John Swanson Jacobs Chronicles Enslavement and Resistance

The University of Chicago Press recently published a unique account of an escape from enslavement in North Carolina decades before the Civil War. The United States Governed by Six Hundred Thousand Despots (2024) by John Swanson Jacobs tells of his escape from enslavement by North Carolina plantation owner and Congressional Representative Samuel Sawyer in 1838 while he and the slaveholder were in transit through the City of New York. Jacobs eventually made it to Australia where his story was published serially in 1855 by the Sydney Empire. It was later republished in 1861 in London, UK under the title “A True Tale of Slavery” by The Leisure Hour: A Family Journal of Instruction and Recreation. The 1861 version of Jacob’s story is available online at the website Documenting the American South.

John Swanson Jacobs was born in 1815 in Edenton, North Carolina, the younger brother of his better-known sister Harriet Jacobs, author of Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl (1861). Harriet Jacobs originally published her book under the pseudonym Linda Brent, possibly to protect those who remained enslaved at home. In the book she referred to her brother John as “William” and Samuel Sawyer, the white father of her two children who “owned” both them and John, as “Mr. Sands.” John Swanson Jacobs, safely in Australia, published under his own name.

In 1838, Sawyer traveled north because he and his fiancé planned to be married in Chicago, Illinois where she had family. He was able to bring an enslaved John Swanson Jacobs with him to New York State because although slavery had been abolished there in 1828, state law permitted enslavers visiting or residing in New York part-time to maintain slaves within their households for up to nine months. This statute was not repealed until 1841.

The following is an excerpt from chapter 5 of A TRUE TALE OF SLAVERY that was published in The Leisure Hour: A Family Journal of Instruction and Recreation (No. 478–February 21, 1861). In this excerpt, Jahn Swanson Jacobs describes his escape from slavery while in New York City.

“THE latter end of the third year after I was sold, my master was elected Member of Congress. I was ordered to get ready for Washington . . .  After my master had been there a short time, he went to board with Mrs. P—-, who had two young nieces here, to one of whom he was soon engaged to be married. As good luck would have it, this young lady had a sister living in Chicago, and no place would suit her like that to get married in . . . Everything was ready, and the hoped-for time came. He took his intended, and off we started for the West. When we were taking the boat at Baltimore for Philadelphia, he came up to me and said, “Call me Mr. Sawyer; and if anybody asks you who you are, and where you are going, tell them that you are a free man, and hired by me.”

We stopped two or three days at the Niagara Falls; from thence we went to Buffalo, and took the boat for Chicago; Mr. Sawyer had been here but a few days before he was taken sick. In five weeks from the time of his arrival here, he was married and ready to leave for home. On our return, we went into Canada. Here I wanted to leave him, but there was my sister and a friend of mine at home in slavery . . . I tried to get a seaman’s protection from the English Custom-house, but could not without swearing to a lie, which I did not feel disposed to do.

We left here for New York, where we stopped three or four days. I went to see some of my old friends from home, who I knew were living there. I told them that I wanted their advice. They knew me, they knew my master, and they knew my friends also. “Now tell me my duty,” said I. The answer was a very natural one, “Look out for yourself first.” I weighed the matter in my mind, and found the balance in favour of stopping. If I returned along with my master, I could do my sister no good, and could see no further chance of my own escape. I then set myself to work to get my clothes out of the Astor House Hotel, where we were stopping; I brought them out in small parcels, as if to be washed. This job being done, the next thing was to get my trunk to put them in. I went to Mr. Johnson’s shop, which was in sight of the Astor House Hotel, and told him that I wanted to get my trunk repaired.

The next morning I took my trunk in my hand with me: when I went down, whom should I see at the foot of the steps but Mr. Sawyer? I walked up to him, and showed him a rip in the top of the trunk, opening it at the same time that he might see that I was not running off. He told me that I could change it, or get a new one if I liked. I thanked him, and told him we were very near home now, and with a little repair the old one would do. At this we parted. I got a friend to call and get my trunk, and pack up my things for me, that I might be able to get them at any minute. Mr. Sawyer told me to get everything of his in, and be ready to leave for home the next day. I went to all the places where I had carried anything of his, and where they were not done, I got their cards and left word for them to be ready by the next morning. What I had got were packed in his trunk; what I had not been able to get, there were the cards for them in his room.

They dine at the Astor at three o’clock; they leave the room at four o’clock; at half-past four o’clock I was to be on board the boat for Providence. Being unable to write myself at that time, and unwilling to leave him in suspense, I got a friend to write as follows: — “Sir–I have left you, not to return; when I have got settled, I will give you further satisfaction. No longer yours, JOHN S. JACOB.”


This note was to be put into the post-office in time for him to get it the next morning. I waited on him and his wife at dinner. As the town clock struck four, I left the room. I then went through to New Bedford, where I stopped for a few months . . . The lawyer I have quite a friendly feeling for, and would be pleased to meet him as a countryman and a brother, but not as a master.”

Once free, John Swanson Jacobs moved to New England where he became an active abolitionist. His efforts took him to Rochester, New York and vicinity on a number of occasions and to New York City at least three times, in May 1849, October 1850, and July 1862. On May 11, 1849, the New York Herald printed an account of a speech by Jacobs at an American Anti-Slavery Society meeting where he called on attendees to make it “disreputable” for people who claimed to be Christians to hold other people in bondage. According to North Star on October 24, 1850, Jacobs spoke in New York City calling for active resistance to fugitive slave laws following the seizure of James “Hamlet” Hamilton by slavecatchers and on July 28, 1862, New York Independent reported on an interview with Jacobs where he recounted his experience as a cook on a British ship, with the support of British authorities in the Bahamas, that was attempting to enter the port of Charleston, South Carolina in violation of the federal blockade of Southern ports (252-258). Excerpts from these articles follow.

American Anti-Slavery Society (New York Herald, May 11, 1849)

Meeting of the Colored Citizens of New York (North Star, October 24, 1850)

Running the Blockade (New York Independent, July 28, 1862)

“[A] very intelligent colored man, formerly a slave in North Carolina, but recently for several years a resident of England, called at our office the other day, and related facts showing that British vessels are stilled engaged in running our blockade, and that the British officials in the Bahamas are, if possible, more inimical to our Union than are the same class of people at home . . . He shipped as a cook on board the steamship Lloyds, at London . . . ‘for Havana and any of the West Indies Islands’ . . . the captain (Smith) announced to the crew that he designed to run the blockade before Charleston, and offered three months pay extra to such as would remain with the ship . . . Jacobs refused to go to Charleston at any price whatever, and demanded, what was his undoubted right, that he be sent home to London. After various efforts on the part of Capt. Smith to indure (sic) Jacobs to either go to Charleston or to settle and sign a satisfaction, he attempted coercion. He had Jacobs taken before a police magistrate to answer the charge of having deserted the ship . . . The law was all on the side of Jacobs, but the public sentiment of Nassau was so strongly against him, and in favor of the unlawful and contraband trade with the Rebels” (257-258).

Herman P. Levine: A Brooklyn School Teacher in the Mexican Revolution

Apparently, a prison term was not enough punishment, for Levine was also fired from his job. The state commissioner of education deprived Levine of his license to teach, and the school board at a meeting on 11 July 1917 dismissed him from his teaching position at Public School 160.6 The state and the school board made it impossible for Levine to practice his profession in his native state, and no doubt this became another factor in driving him into exile.7

While in jail, Levine was duly notified that he would still have to appear for his mandatory physical examination. Standing on his principles, he wrote from jail to The Call, rather sententiously, “I shall…not raise any technicality, but offer myself as a sacrifice, if need be, to the greedy, exploiting and devastating system of capitalism.”8 As Levine’s statement makes clear, he was a conscientious objector to the war because he was a socialist opposed to capitalist wars.

In Minneapolis, Minnesota on 21 September 1919 the board of education dismissed D.J. Amoss from his teaching job at Central high school because of his alleged membership in the Industrial Workers of the World.

7 “Minneapolis Teacher,” The Call, 22 September 1917, p. 9.
8 “Levine Refuses Physical Test,”, The Call, 9 August 1917.

He asserted, “My life will affirm what my mind and heart dictate. I have refused to do their bidding by refusing. Such actions were not uncommon at the time.to register. I will refuse to do their bidding in the future.”9 Levine’s statements published in The Call, thus also served, as he surely realized, as anti-draft and anti-war propaganda. His own intransigence might serve an inspiration to other young men to resist.

Levine also wrote a letter from jail to a friend who then passed it on to be published in The Call:

Having been registered against his will in prison, when Levine finished his prison sentence, he was still subject to the draft, and, if he refused, to imprisonment. Evidently preferring his freedom, he must have left for Mexico immediately upon release in June 1918. Levine reached
Mexico City shortly thereafter, and adopted two aliases and identities: Mischa Poltiolevsky, claiming to be a Russian immigrant, and Martin Paley, an American schoolteacher. Levine’s experience in jail and prison must have hardened his radical convictions, for when he left and fled to
Mexico, he continued his political activity, though now as a leftist labour organiser rather than as an anti-war activist.

Levine’s decision to go to Mexico was not unique. Americans didn’t go to Canada because it was part of the British Empire which was already at war. Mexico credate no barriers to American war resisters who wanted to enter the country, and what began as a trickle became a steady stream, and
soon, some would claim, a flood. The New York Times reported in June of 1920—a year and a half after the end of the war—that an estimated 10,000 draft evaders still remained in Mexico.11 Senator Albert Bacon Fall told the Associated Press that an estimated thirty thousand Americans had crossed into Mexico to evade the draft law.12 American politicians and the press called them “slackers,” a derogatory term that the war resisters adopted as a badge of honor.

Many American war resisters went to Mexico City, but Levine went to Tampico in the state of Tamaulipas, a city that was then a center of the relatively new oil industry dominated by British and American companies. He eventually found work as a clerk there set about re-organizing the local
chapter of the Industrial Workers of the World, also known as the Wobblies.

Tampico, the principal port for the Mexican oil industry, had developed rapidly beginning with the outbreak of the war in Europe in 1914. With the expansion of industry there was also a rapid growth in the number of oil workers, stevedores and seamen. These workers, often led by Spanish anarchists or sometimes American Wobblies, formed unions which grew rapidly in size, strength, and militancy.

11 ‘Ask Mexico to Send Draft Dodgers Back,” The New York Times, 7 June 1920, p. 9.
12 Linn A.E. Gale, “They Were Willing,” Gale’s Magazine, March 1920, p. 1. 3

Labor unionism in Tampico had begun during the first years of the twentieth century when workers had established a variety of unions, such as the Moralizing Union of Carpenters (Unión Moralizadora
de Carpinteros). By 1915, the major anarcho-syndicalist labor federation, the House of the World Worker, had reached Tampico, and began organizing both trades and industrial workers. The practice of striking to improve wages and working conditions became widespread and frequent among workers in Tampico.13

The Industrial Workers of the World already had a foothold in Tampico before Levine arrived. While it remains unclear if the IWW had any specific strategic plan for Tampico, in general the IWW organized unions of workers in a particular industry with the goal of affiliating them eventually into a national and then a worldwide industrial union, the One Big Union, as they sometimes called it.14

13 Gruber, Adelson, Steven Lief 1982, “Historia Social de Ios Obreros Industriales de Tampico, 1906 1919,” (Doctoral dissertation, 1982, Colegio de México), pp. 424–70.
14 Cole, Peter, David Stuthers, and Kenyon Zimmer 2017, Wobblies of the World: A Global History of the IWW.

In the United States, the IWWs strategy led it to organize oil workers, copper miners, lumberjacks in the spruce forests, and agricultural workers in the wheat fields: all strategic wartime industries (spruce wood was used to build airplanes). Following capital and heavy industry over the border to the south, Wobblies found themselves working in Mexican mines and oil fields, as well as on
Mexican docks and on ships of various nations. There they would employ the same strategy of industrial unionism and direct action.

One group of the Industrial Workers of the World arrived in Tampico in force in 1916 when the C.A. Canfield arrived in port. The crew of the Canfield belonged to the IWWs Marine Transport Workers (IWW MTW), and many were Spanish speaking. They recruited Mexican seamen to their union, which probably also gained a foothold among the stevedores. Pedro Coria, a Mexican IWW organizer from Arizona arrived in Tampico in January 1917 and organized Local #100 of IWW-MTW.15 Workers in Tampico had many grievances, (London: Pluto Press, 2017), pp. 124 but one of their major complaints was that they were paid in varying worthless currencies, so they demanded pay in gold or silver. In 1917 there was a series of strikes that began over this issue, culminating in a
great general strike in the Tampico area involving petroleum workers and stevedores from both the House of the World Worker and the IWW.16 The US Embassy sent a note to the Mexican Secretary of Foreign Affairs in October of 1917 on ‘The Tampico Situation’, which gives an impression of the
US government’s concerns. The note reads:

On 8 January 1919, Excelsior, a Mexico City newspaper, repeated a story that had apparently originated in New York that there were “secret soviets” in Tampico, organized by the IWW.18

15 Norman Caulfield, “Wobblies and Mexican Workers in Mining and Petroleum, 1905-1924,”
International Review of Social History, April 1995, Vol. 40, No. pp. 51-751995), p. 57.
15 Cole et all, Wobblies, pp. 124–39. 16 Cole et all, Wobblies, pp. 124–39.
17 US Embassy to Mexican Secretary of Foreign Relations, unsigned, ‘Memorandum: The
Tampico Situation’, 13 October 1917, Expediente 18-1-146, SRE.
18 Paco Ignacio Taibo II, Los Bolshevikis: Historia narrativa de los orígenes del communism en Mexico: 1919

By the time Levine arrived in Tampico in 1919 or 1920, the IWW was an established organization among industrial workers with a legendary militancy. Levine joined in the work of the IWW as editor of the group’s newspaper. In 1920, US intelligence agents reported that Mischa Poltiolevsky—they apparently believed this was Levine’s real name—”is working in Tampico under the name of M. Paley. He is a very active agent/”19 They were correct.

Levine had become one of the most dynamic leaders of the Tampico IWW organizing among stevedores and oil industry workers. The former socialist Levine had undergone a conversion experience: he had given up his membership in the Socialist Party and had joined the IWW. During the period between 1917 and 1919, he rethought his political ideals, rejecting his belief in socialism and espousing instead revolutionary syndicalism. In a letter to the Industrial Workers of the World headquarters in Chicago, he explained his personal situation and his political views:
I have never learned a trade, nor am I a manual worker, and this I regret, for I recognize that the workers on the job must prepare themselves to run industry, and the workers on the job must determine radical tactics during the struggle to attain their aim, because they alone are surrounded by that environment from which real radical measures surge. I am opposed to political action. An
industrial administration must be prepared for industrially. Political action wastes energy that could be used in the class struggle—on the job. I intend to learn a trade as soon as possible, so that my views may arise in the proper environment. Until then, I shall suggest nothing— but shall affirm that radicals on the job, in the factory, on the farm, in the mine—theirs is the final voice.

1925 (Mexico: Joaquin Mortiz, 1986), p. 32.
19 Memo of 26 May 1920 from the military attaché of the American Embassy to the Director
of Military Intelligence, G.S., Washington, D.C. on the subject of Bolshivist [sic] propaganda,
Record Group 165, Box 2290, USMID, USNA.

Levine concluded his letter, “I was a member of the Socialist party, Local Kings [County], N.Y., but sent in my resignation last May [1919].” In a hand-written postscript he added, “As soon as I become a worker on the job, I intend to join the IWW. But for the present as an office worker, I cannot do so.”20

Why did Levine leave the Socialist Party? Perhaps because so many prominent figures in the party had supported the war and even gone to work for the Wilson administration. Or maybe Levine had fallen under the influence of American or Mexican Wobblies who had convinced him of their
revolutionary syndicalist principles and strategy. Or perhaps his own experience as a slacker had simply driven him to the left, and, at the time, the far left was the IWW.

20 Letter (unsigned) by Levine to Whitehead, November (date scratched out), 1919, Record Group 165, Box 2290, USMID, USNA. 21 A number of copies of El Obrero Industrial can be found in Record Group 165, USMID, US

In any case, though he did not have an industrial job—or perhaps precisely because he did not have such a job—Levine, using the name M. Paley, became the editor of the Tampico IWW newspaper, El Obrero Industrial (The Industrial Worker). The newspaper was just one or two tabloid size sheets of paper folded into four or at most eight pages, written in Spanish it was aimed at the Tampico oil workers and stevedores. Its articles advocated direct action and industrial unionism and called for the use of the general strike to create a workers’ government.21 Levine’s newspaper and his
organizing activities became a serious concern to the US Military Intelligence Division (USMID). The USMID officer in Laredo, Texas wrote to his superiors in July 1920:


The [US] Government is receiving copies of “The Industrial Worker” [El Obrero Industrial] paper being printed in Tampico, which in its editorials is spreading the doctrine of Lenine and Trotzky. The paper says the strikers will not cease until they have accomplished their purpose. Reports also state that at their meetings the strikers have red flags and that the cry ‘Vive la Russia’ [sic] can be heard. The oil companies told the laborers that the pay will not be increased one cent, as they claim
they are paying the best salary in the country.22

National Archives. The newspaper reported on local activities in Tampico, but its main political ideas were identical to those of the IWW of the United States: direct action, industrial unionism the general strike.


At the time many IWWs were supporters of the Russian Revolution and the Soviet government, and some were attracted to the Bolsheviks, who were in the process of organizing the Communist International. As editor of El Obrero Industrial Levine, like other Wobblies, followed the Russian
Revolution with sympathy and offered it his support from afar. Later he would join in the foundation of the Mexican Communist Party (PCM).

The writer B. Traven, whose real name was Ret Marut and who was a German revolutionary refugee of the post-war conflicts in that country, lived in Tampico in the early 1920s. Traven spent some time
with members of the Industrial Workers of the World and left a picture of the American radicals in his novels Die Baumwollpflucker (The Cottonpicker) and Der Wobbly (The Wobbly). In his fictional account of a strike Traven gives us some idea of Levine’s Tampico:

in this country [they] do not suffer from a clumsy, bureaucratic apparatus. The union secretaries do not regard themselves as civil servants. They are all young and roaring revolutionaries. The trade unions here have only been founded during the last ten years, and they have started in the most modern direction. They absorbed the experience of the Russian Revolution, and they embody the
explosive power of a young radical force and the elasticity of an organization which is still searching
for its form and changes it tactics daily.
23

22 Report from Intelligence Officer, Laredo, Texas, to department Intelligence Officer, Fort
Sam Houston, Texas, 23 July 1920, Record Groups 165, in Box 2291, USMID, USNA.
23 Heidi Zogbaum, B. Traven: A Vision of Mexico (Wilmington, DE: SR Books,

Traven’s stories and novels caught the spirit of Tampico’s Wobblies and other radical unionists.
The employers took the matter of what they saw as the foreign-inspired labor unions in Tampico quite seriously.

R.D. Hutchinson, of the British ‘El Águila’ Oil Company told the Bulletin of the National
Chambers of Industry that the Tampico general strike of 1920 represented a “giant step toward the dictatorship of the proletariat,”

He went on: Mexican workers have unionized with the goal of imposing themselves on capital in Tampico and they have done it at the insistence of two different kinds of agitators: some foreigners, who, preaching Bolshevik ideas, have done a profound job, a deep job among the proletarians of the oil zones; and the others, Mexican politicians, who pursuing, if not identical goals, disrupt the peace by attacking the established interests at this crucial moment.24

As both Traven’s novel and this company manager’s remarks suggest, Levine, Coria and other slackers together with the Mexican workers had constructed a powerful, radical industrial union movement in Tampico that threatened the existing order.

Scholarly Resources Inc., 1992), p. 14, citing B. Traven, , Die Baumwollpflucker. (Hamburg. 1962),
p. 72. Wobbly movement.

The British government was also alarmed at the growth of the IWW in Tampico and other cities. The British Ambassador, H.A.C. Cummins reported to Lord Curzon at the Foreign Office in London in April of 1921, “The I.W.W. organization obtained some influence here during the war, an influence which has not lessened, and it is known that the confederated labor unions [CROM] are being directed by these dangerous extremists, and that they are laying plans with a view to establishing a Soviet administration in Mexico.”25 As Cummins’s communication indicates, in Tampico both
the IWW and the more moderate state sponsored CROM unions carried out militant campaigns against the employers.

While both foreign employers and foreign consuls sometimes exaggerated the threat from the IWW, their exaggerations were based on the very real, and quite formidable Wobbly Movement.
24 “Las Últimas Huelgas Según Seis Industriales Prominentes,” Boletín de la Confederación de Cámaras

There are always fights between people in business and politics and the 1910s and 20s were a period of particularly ferocious struggles everywhere. U.S. President Woodrow Wilson fought the Socialist Party and the IWW, severely weakening the former and virtually destroying the latter. The Republicans fought the Democrats and defeated them leading to the reactionary and corrupt President Warren G. Harding. In Russia, Joseph Stalin fought and defeated Leon Trotsky. In America Socialists fought Communists and the AFL fought the IWW. So it is not surprising that here was also a fight in the Mexican IWW.

In Mexico, it became a personal fight between slackers Herman Levine and Linn A.E. Gale over the question of who represented the real IWW in Mexico. Gale was a small-town journalist, a former low level, local politician from New York, facing criminal prosecution for his debts and also fearing he might be drafted fled to Mexico with his wife Magdalena, a secretary who worked to support him. He published Gale’s Magazine which combined socialism and spiritual and promoted himself as the leading American leftwing intellectual and activist in Mexico, mailing his magazine to influential American radicals.

Industriales, (August 1920) , pp. 10 25 Bourne n.d., p. 307.


While Levine worked in Tampico organizing petroleum workers into the IWW, Gale, with the political backing of Mexican President Venustiano Carranza’s Minister of the Interior, Manuel Aguirre Berlanga published article s supporting Carranza’s notoriously corrupt and avaricious government, claiming it was progressive or even potentially socialism. At the same time, Gale claimed to be the leader of the Mexican IWW, and though he didn’t do much organizing, he gave out
IWW membership cards and photographs of the American Socialist Party leader Eugene V. Debs.

The situation was complicated by the fact that Gale also claimed to be the head of the Communist Party of Mexico (PCdeM), made up of the same clique that formed his IWW, while Levine sympathized with the rival Mexican Communist Party (PCM) that had been established by American slacker Charles Francis Phillips, Indian Manabendra Nath Roy, and Russian Bolshevik (Communist) Mikhail Borodin. All of this was taking place at a brief moment when revolutionary syndicalists around the world were briefly attracted to the Communist movement, just as they were in Mexico.
We know Levine’s opinion of Gale and his IWW group from a long letter (eight single-spaced pages) in which Levine wrote to “Fellow Worker Whitehead,” that is, Thomas Whitehead, the secretary-treasurer of the IWW in the United States. Whether or not a copy ever reached Whitehead is unclear, because the letter was intercepted by USMID. Levine portrayed Gale as the
antithesis of a genuine labor organizer. The letter gives us a great deal of insight into
Levine’s political principles and his notion of the proper role as an American revolutionary and labor organizer in Mexico and it is worth reviewing in some detail.26

26 The following several citations come from this letter. Letter (unsigned) to Whitehead from Levine, date November (date scratched out) 1919. Box 2290, Record Group 165, US National Archives.

Levine wrote, ‘He [Gale] is a businessman seeking political preferment and social position’, while Gale’s Magazine is ‘not a radical nor socialist organ’. He went on:

27 Letter (unsigned) to Whitehead from Levine, date November (scratched out) 1919. Box 2290,
Record Group 165, US National Archives. The following several citations come from this letter.

Levine pointed out to Whitehead that it was Berlanga who had quashed the teachers’ strike of 1919.


In general, Levine was critical of Gale’s notion that the Mexican government was a radical government moving toward socialism. What had the peasants and workers gained? asked Levine. “The worker’s reward? The right to have the military forces used against him when he goes on strike, printing presses seized, union halls closed.” Levine gave the examples of the suppression of the Mexico City teachers strike in May and of the Tampico oil workers strike in November of 1919.
“What is the essence of the Mexican Government?” asked Levine rhetorically. “It is an incipient capitalist state.” Carranza, Levine argued, had ‘tried to establish industry on a firm capitalist basis’, inviting the Chambers of Commerce of Dallas, Chicago and other US cities to come to Mexico to help:

Carranza invited them to invest capital in Mexico, but denied them any special privilege. He wants
Mexico to develop on a capitalist basis, without intervention of foreign capitalist governments. “Mexico for the Mexican Capitalists, for the Mexican Government” is his slogan.

Most modern historians would agree with Levine’s assessment of the Carranza regime. Levine argued that Gale’s call for support of Mexico against foreign intervention missed the point that the Mexican government actually supported foreign economic investment and protected foreign investors.

Tampico oil is in the hands of foreign exploiters. But when workers go on strike, the union halls are
closed down, printing presses seized despite specific constitutional provisions to the contrary, right of assembly denied—by whom? Not by foreigners, but by the military officials of that very government which we are asked to defend. Levine lumped Gale together with
Gompers as foreigners meddling in Mexican workers’ affairs:

Mexican radical policy will be determined by Mexicans. The Mexican working class is fighting its
fight where it ought to be fought—on the job. It [the Mexican working class] is not revolutionary—but it becomes aroused over the right to organize—as is proved by the Orizaba [textile] strike now before the public eye. Mexican Labor is too conservative, its leaders and organizations being bound up with the American Federation of Labor. But there are radical elements, and it is to them that we must look for action.

Interestingly, while he and other American slackers participated in the Mexican labor movement, Levine clearly believed that Mexican workers should ultimately determine its policies. Levine concluded his critique by arguing that:

American radicals should fight against American Capitalism; Mexican Comrades should fight their
own exploiters. The class struggle— cannot—will not— be sidetracked.


The letter ended: “cooperation with [Gale] by the IWW is dangerous to the Wobbly movement.” Levine clearly believed that genuine labor organizers would work not with Mexico’s capitalist government, but with the “radical elements” among the industrial workers in the organization of the class struggle. Levine, as this letter makes clear, held Gale in utter contempt.28

28 Letter (unsigned) to Whitehead from Levine, date November (date scratched out) 1919. Box
2290, Record Group 165, US National Archives.

The battle between the American slackers for control of the Mexican Industrial Workers of the World was fought both in Mexico and in the pages of the IWW magazine and newspapers in the United
States. Both slacker groups in Mexico wanted the endorsement of the Chicago headquarters of the IWW, and each wrote long articles arguing its point of view and attacking the opposition. The imprimatur of the Chicago office of the IWW was just as important for the slacker unionists as the
endorsement of the Moscow headquarters of the Communist International was for the slacker Communists.

As usual, Linn Gale struck the first blow with an article titled ‘The War Against Gompersism in Mexico’ published in November 1919 in The One Big Union Monthly, the magazine of the IWW
executive committee in the United States. He recounted the first national congress of the Mexican Socialist Party and attacked M.N. Roy for voting to admit Gompers. He also attempted to discredit.

The Indian revolutionary M.N. Roy. Gale wrote that the ‘Hindu’ (M.N. Roy) is “said by some to be a
spy for the American government. As to the truth of this I do not know.” He claimed that during the congress Roy had been “working hand-in-hand with [Luis N.] Morones,” the corrupt leader of the CROM. Gale explained that “Roy voted in favor of seating Morones, casting the deciding vote!!!” Consequently, Gale explained, he and others had withdrawn from the Socialist Party and formed Communist Party of Mexico, a tiny group headed by Gale, which was “in favor of Industrial Unionism.”

The following several citations come from this letter.

The editor of The One Big Union Monthly observed that,

“Not knowing the condition in Mexico, we publish the above with some mental reservation, insofar as we believe that the I.W.W. men of Mexico may take a different view of cooperation with the new Communist party.”29 In the same issue there appeared an excerpt from Gale’s Communist Party of Mexico manifesto, obviously sent to the paper by Gale, endorsing the IWW, denouncing the AFL,
calling for the use of strikes, boycotts and sabotage, and looking forward to the eventual establishment of the “Dictatorship of the Proletariat.” The manifesto also called for a “Constant and intelligent co-operation between the Communist Party and the industrial unions of Mexico and the Communist Parties and industrial unions of other countries.”.30

29 Linn A.E. Gale, “The War Against Gompersism in Mexico’, The One
Big Union Monthly, November 1919, pp. 23–5.
30 “I.W.W. in Mexico,” The One Big Union Monthly, November 1919, p. 50.

The other slacker faction was not long in responding in the American Wobbly press. Irwin Granich [Mike Gold] wrote a long article, “Sowing Seeds of One Big Union in Mexico,” in which he described political, economic, and social conditions, and rebutted Gale’s attack. Granich gave his
own report on the first national congress of the Mexican Socialist Party, and his own interpretation of events. First, he argued that the Socialist Party congress really functioned as a kind of IWW convention. As he put it:

The Socialist party, dominated by I.W.W. elements, had called the congress because there was no union able to call it. It was called for the purpose of bringing to the workers the message of One Big Union and to help them create a national body based on industrial lines.

The Mexican Socialist Party congress, said Granich, succeeded in doing so despite the sabotage of Luis Morones and Linn Gale. He described Gale as “an American adventurer and labor provocateur
who has a shady past and has just organized a so-called Communist party of six or seven members for some sinister ends.” Gale “is really a nonentity, dangerous only because he is trying to bleed the movement for money, and because he is of the type that will ultimately sell out and turn spy—if he
has not already achieved this profitable end, as the Soviet Bureau in New York believes.
” Granich asserted that despite Morones and Gale, the congress had been a success and the delegates had launched two new magazines, El Soviet in Mexico City and El Obrero Industrial in Veracruz.31

31 Irwin Granich, Irwin [pseud. of Michael Gold], “Sowing the Seeds of One Big Union in Mexico,” The One Big Union Monthly January 1920 , pp. 36–7.

In the March 1920 issue of The One Big Union Monthly, the editor felt obliged to explain why he was continuing to print letters from the rival slacker factions in Mexico, and his explanation bears citation because it shows the American IWW’s interest in establishing continental industrial
unionism. “First,” wrote the editor,” it is just as important for us to be familiar with conditions down in Mexico as it is for us to know conditions in Canada. The question of direct cooperation between the One Big Union of Canada, of United States and of Mexico is bound to come up in the near
future, and for that reason it is necessary that we should be somewhat conversant with men and condition[s] in Mexico as well as in Canada.”


“Second,” wrote the OBU editor, “we want our members to know the state of affairs down in Mexico City when they get down there, so they do not act blindly.” Finally, said the editor, the IWW rejected
political parties, whether Socialist or Communist. “We enjoy to see the politicians destroy one another before an audience of wage workers,” because “it fills the workers with disgust for the political game and makes them turn to industrial organization.” So he let the debate in the pages of his magazine continue.32 The editor asked that future articles respond to a number of specific questions, namely a history and survey of the Mexican labor movement, a discussion of the experiments in the Yucatan, a discussion of the roles of Emiliano Zapata and Pancho Villa, and a
survey of Mexican industry with statistics.

32 John A. Jutt, “The Mexican Administration of the I.W.W,”

José Refugio Rodríguez, Secretary of Gale’s IWW organization, took up the offer and wrote an article on “The Working Class Movement in Mexico” which avoided the recriminations of the earlier articles and described general conditions of Mexican labor. Rodriguez’s article characterized the
various leaders and tendencies in the Mexican Revolution. He rejected support for Álvaro Obregón, who was “seeking the support of the American and Mexican financial interests,” and also repudiated
Carranza who was “at best only a Liberal.” Rodríguez also characterized Villa and Zapata. He wrote (wrongly and falsely) that the former “is no more and no less than a despicable murderer who once served in the American Army and there learned completely the science of killing his fellow human beings.” He expressed admiration for Zapata as an “honest man,” but noted that “the tales published in foreign periodicals about the wonders of ‘Zapataland’ make us laugh and also make us shed bitter tears”:

His “Zapataland” only existed over a few hectares of land in the days of its greatest success. It was very crude, undeveloped, unorganized, and could not therefore, last long. In the great land over which Lenin is the guiding figure and where Industrial democracy has come to remain forever, there is much of science, order, skill, wisdom and shrewdness, to match that of the capitalist empires without. But there was none of this in “Zapataland”—only honest intentions, high ideals, bad
organizations, big blunders and inevitable failure.33

Gale’s Magazine, February 1920, p. 44.

What is striking in Rodríguez’s essay is the nearly complete rejection of all of the Mexican revolutionary factions, including the plebeian movements of Zapata and Villa, and his absolute confidence in Lenin and the Russian model. Gale and his comrades, it seemed, having rejected the Mexican revolution entirely, intended to implant the models of the Chicago-based IWW and the
Moscow-centered Communist International.

Whatever appeared in the papers in Chicago, the fight to control the Mexican IWW would be settled in Mexico and Mexican workers would play a central role. Levine had found two allies in his struggle against Gale. Both Charles King and Pedro Coria had been active; in the Industrial Workers of the World in the United States, as well as in Mexico. A USMID report, probably written by José Allen, who was simultaneously head of the Mexican Communist Party and a US spy, described
Levine’s new supporters. The description of King was brief:

King claims to be an American Communist. He has been in Mexico approximately eighteen months. He is five feet eight inches tall; weight about one hundred and sixty pounds; dark hair; dark eyes; swarthy complexion. He is very sarcastic and cynical. He appears to be very well educated; he speaks Spanish and English equally well. Trade unknown.

33 José Refugio Rodríguez, “The Working Class Movement in Mexico,” The One Big Union Monthly, 1920 II, no. 6, 26-27.

The spy’s account of Coria went into more detail, painting a picture of a sophisticated political activist. “Corea [sic] is a Mexican of the railroad man type; age about forty; about five feet eight inches tall; weight about one hundred and eighty pounds; thick, black hair; black eyes; slightly florid complexion,”, wrote Allen.

34 ‘Who’s Who Material – Mexican Radical Elements’, 15 October 1920. RG 165, Box 2290.

Coria told his own story in an autobiography written in the 1960s. Raised in a military orphanage, Coria eventually became a foundry worker and after working in several Mexican cities travelled to the United States. While living in Chicago, Coria learned to speak English fluently and also became acquainted with the American labor movement. He apparently attended an early convention of the Industrial Workers of the World and became a Wobbly. As a Wobbly organizer in various parts of the
West, Coria had participated in numerous organizing campaigns, strikes, and protest demonstrations.

At various times he was beaten, jailed, and had his life was threatened. As a working-class pacifist in the United States, he opposed both the violence of the revolution in Mexico and United States involvement in World War I. When the Wilson administration suppressed the IWW, Coria fled to Tampico, no doubt because he knew there was an active IWW group there.35

35 Coria, Pedro, “Adventures of an Indian Mestizo,” Industrial Worker (Chicago), January, February,
March, April, and May, 1971. Thanks to Robert J. Halstead for calling this series to my attention and providing a photocopy.

As soon as he arrived in Tampico, Coria made contact with the IWW and joined other Wobblies in organizing Petroleum Workers Industrial Union 230 and Marine Transport Workers union 510. He quickly became one of the most prominent IWW leaders in Tampico and was sent by the local IWW as delegate to the important labor convention in Saltillo, Coahuila held on 1 May 1918, the meeting that produced the Regional Confederation of Mexican Workers (CROM). It must have
been not long after returning from Saltillo that Coria met Herman P. Levine.

Coria’s experience made him a highly valuable IWW organizer. His knowledge of English and Spanish, his familiarity with the labor union and political movements in both countries, and his
courage and dedication made him particularly useful in the attempt to organize the IWW in Mexico. So, it was natural that in Tampico, Coria became one of the closest allies of Levine.

Levine—now backed up by Coria and King—proposed at the 17 October 1920 IWW meetings in Mexico City, which involved both factions, that the IWW’s US rule excluding non-wage-workers be
enforced. The observation of that rule would have meant the expulsion from membership in the Mexican IWW of Gale, the newspaper publisher and his followers: Cervantes López, the printer; Hipólito Flores, the policeman, and other non-worker members of Gale’s committee. Gale responded
evasively that the IWW had to organize soldiers and sailors, and should not, for example, exclude a woman fired from her factory who became a fruit vendor.36

36 Gale 1920, p. 6; ‘Memorandum to the A.C. of S. for Military Intelligence’, 15 October 1920, in
Box 2290, Record Group 165, USMID, USNA, an account of these differences within the IWW, probably written by José Allen, says that Pedro Coria was disputing the leadership of the union with Gale and Charles King. This is probably the same struggle. See also Taibo II 1986, p. 101.

There was another important element in this debate, in addition to the question of a member’s social class. Levine and Coria also proposed to take the Mexican IWW into an alliance with the anarchists, anarcho syndicalists, and the other Mexican Communist Party (not the one run by Gale) in order to form a united front among all the labor radicals in Mexico. It was this issue that accounted for the presence at the Mexico City meeting of Jacinto Huitrón, a leader of the anarcho-syndicalist labor
movement, and Manuel D. Ramírez, a labor activist and the future head of the Mexican Communist Party. It was this group which would later establish the important though short-lived labor organization the Communist Federation of the Mexican Proletariat.37

37 ‘Memorandum to the A.C. of S. for Military Intelligence: Notes on Radical Activities’, 15
October 1920, USMID, Record Group 165, Box 2290, USMID, USNA.

The debate over the rules was postponed, but Gale refused to call another meeting, so the other faction, Levine, Coria and King, now joined by Gale’s former allies Rodríguez, Pacheco and Ortega, called their own meeting of the executive board, revised the rules to exclude non-workers, and elected their own executive committee. Gale was out. Levine had won.

The Gale-Levine faction fight ended in the pages of the IWWs magazine in the United States at the end of 1920. In December, an article apparently written by Herman Levine, announced the victory of
the “wage workers” over the “petit bourgeois” faction led by Linn Gale. “The wage workers faction, the most numerous and the strongest, with the general secretary treasurer and the majority of the G.E.B. [General Executive Board] with them, are continuing in charge of the organization, and hope for better progress now that they have rid themselves of the political and petit bourgeois element,”, stated the author. The IWW, now firmly in proletarian hands, the author reported, was organizing oil workers in Tampico, metal mine workers in Guanajuato, and industrial workers in Mexico City.38

38 Herman Levine, Herman ‘The Mexican I.W.W.’, The One Big Union Monthly, December 1920, p. 57.

After Levine, Coria, and King took charge of the IWW, it immediately entered into a united front with the other factions of the revolutionary labor movement. The anarcho-syndicalists, the IWW, the Mexican Communist Party, and some independent unions formed first the “Revolutionary Bloc,” in August 1920, which subsequently became the Communist Federation of the Mexican Proletariat (FCPM). The FCPM was meant to be an alternative to the CROM. It stood for revolutionary labor
unionism, the fight for workers’ control, the overthrow of capitalism, and, passing through a brief dictatorship of the proletariat, for Social Revolution. While most of its members were anarchists or anarcho-syndicalists, the FCPM sympathized with the Soviet Union. Later the FCPM would become the anarchist General Confederation of Workers or CGT.

In addition to Levine’s wing of the IWW, the Mexican Communist Party (PCM) (that is the party founded by Roy and Phillips) also joined the new federation. Within a few months the PCM Communists were involved in the leadership of a genuine working-class upheaval in Mexico City,
Veracruz, Orizaba and Tampico. Two of the PCM’s new young leaders, Manuel Díaz Ramírez and José C. Valadés were elected secretaries of the executive board of the FCPM.39 The Communist Federation and its activists such as Levine, Valadés and Díaz Ramírez were far more serious about
organizing than Gale had been. For example,

39 Taibo II 1986, Los Bolshevikis, p. 103.

Díaz Ramírez, who was himself from Veracruz, contacted Aurelio Medrano and other leaders of the Orizaba textile workers’ anarcho-communist group, the group with which Gale had been corresponding. Díaz not only wrote them and sent the Communist magazine Vida Nueva and the
Boletín Comunista, but he also went to Orizaba gave a public lecture on “Unionism and Communism.” He met privately with local activists and attempted to win the group over to the Communist Federation of the Mexican Proletariat, and to the Mexican Communist Party.40 Díaz urged the local anarcho-communists and CROM activists to join the Communist Federation and later its successor the General Confederation of Workers (CGT). The Orizaba group decided to stay in the CROM, though they remained in its left wing.41 Nevertheless, Díaz and the Communists demonstrated a new commitment to building the IWW and the Communist Party among workers.

40 García Díaz, Bernardo 1990, Textiles del Valle de Orizaba (1880–1925). (Xalapa, Veracruz: Universidad Veracruzana, Centro de Investigaciones Historicas, 199), pp. 240–1.
41 Ibid., pp. 270–1.

Levine’s organizing in Tampico and his fight with Gale had strengthened the IWW in Mexico. He also helped to build the young and fragile Mexican Communist Party. The political winds, however, had shifted. While President Venustiano Carranza had welcomed the American slackers, the new president, Álvaro Obregon, wanted to be rid of them, ordering their arrest and expulsion.

Levine was captured and deported on 25 May 1921.42 He either revealed his citizenship or it was discovered, for the Washington Post carried the news of Levine’s detention to the public in a story
date-lined Laredo, Texas, 27 May 1921: Herman M. [sic] Levine, of New York City, who fled to Mexico in 1918 and is alleged to have engaged in radical activities there, was deported Wednesday from Monterrey, where he was arrested last week. He was immediately taken in charge by military authorities here and is being held at Fort McIntosh.43

42 Letter from Matthew C. Smith, Col., General Staff, Chief, Negative Branch to W.L. Hurley, Office of the Under-Secretary, Department of State, 28 May 1921; Memorandum for file dated 27 May 1921 regarding phone call from Mr. Hoover to USMID. Both in Box 2292, Record
Group 165, USMED, USNA.
43 “Mexico Deports Radicals; Herman M. Levine, of New York Returned to the United States,” Washington Post, 27 May 1921. Clipping in Box 2291, Record Group 165, USMID, USNA

.
44 Memorandum for file, undated by citing General Intelligence Bulletin No. 53 for 4 June
1921, Box 2292, Record Group 165, USMID,USNA.

The US government’s General Intelligence Bulletin No. 53 for 5 June 1921 reported that Levine’s “case will be presented to the Grand Jury for indictment as a slacker.”44

After this point, Levine disappears from the records, but what an experience Levine had had since the day four years before when he decided to resist the draft. The war and the draft forced him to give up his profession, and his country and led him to become a political exile in Mexico. While
Levine remained a radical, the war also caused him to abandon his political party, the Socialists, and led him to adopt the revolutionary syndicalist ideology of the Industrial Workers of the World.

As a Wobbly in Mexico, Levine edited the union’s newspaper in Tampico where he also became one of the union’s leading spirits. Of all the American slackers, Levine was perhaps the only one who really threw himself shoulder-to-shoulder into the organization of ordinary Mexican workers in an attempt to bring about a new industrial and economic order. For a brief period, Levine and his IWW ‘fellow workers’ had led thousands of Tampico’s oil port workers in a mass movement involving strikes that paralyzed shipping, challenged the employers, and troubled two states. Levine had cooperated with the founders of the Mexican Communist Party and Levine himself appears to have become a member. Like other radicals in Mexico at the time, Levine signed his letters “Salud y Revolución Social,” that is, “Health and Social Revolution,” and he added in English with that characteristic Wobbly American accent, “May it come damn quick.” Unfortunately for Levine, it did not come.

Whatever happened to Levine? We do not know, but a cross-reference in the card index of the US Military Intelligence Division files mentions a Herman Levine who was active in June 1932 in the
executive councils of various veterans’ organizations and was a bonus marcher, one of the largest American working-class protests of the era. Could that have been the Brooklyn school teacher Levine who led oil workers in Tampico during the years of the World War and the Mexican Revolution?
We cannot be sure that this is the same man, but it might well have been.

Intentional Use of AI in the Social Studies Classroom for Multilingual Learners


Andy Szeto


The introduction of ChatGPT in 2022 has opened up numerous exciting possibilities for teachers, making AI increasingly relevant in the classroom. For social studies teachers working with multilingual learners, AI offers valuable tools to enhance content comprehension and engagement. The intersection of social studies language demands and AI’s powerful capabilities represents a perfect synergy. The recent proliferation of AI-powered tools has significantly improved educators’ ability to bring social studies content to life and address the diverse needs of multilingual students. This article explores how AI can support these social studies teachers by providing tailored resources and facilitating effective teaching strategies.

In modern social studies education, we must move beyond rote memorization of facts, events, and dates to create more engaging and meaningful experiences for students. The integration of AI presents a significant opportunity to enhance SWIRL—speaking, writing, interacting,
reading, and listening—within lessons.1

1 Andrea Honigsfeld and Maria G. Dove, Collaborating for English Learners: A Foundational Guide to Integrated Practices, 2nd ed. (Thousand Oaks, CA: Corwin, 2020).

For instance, when exploring the decision of the United States to join the League of Nations after World War I, teachers can utilize historical chatbots to offer students diverse perspectives on the issue, fostering interactive learning. An activity could involve students preparing and participating
in a debate, supported by real-time audio translation and captioning to ensure inclusivity. AI can transcribe and translate these debates into multiple languages, allowing all students to engage fully.

Additionally, students can write about the topic in their native language, with AI translating their work for peer review and feedback. Through such applications, AI not only facilitates active participation in all aspects of SWIRL but also enriches the learning experience by bridging language
barriers and promoting deeper engagement with historical content. 2
2Tan Huynh, “3 Strategies to Support English Language Learners in Social Studies,” Edutopia,
January 24, 2022, https://www.edutopia.org/article/3strategies-support-english-language-learners-socialstudies/ .

Teaching academic vocabulary in social studies instruction is crucial as it empowers students to comprehend complex concepts, engage in higher-order thinking, and effectively communicate their
understanding of historical and contemporary issues.3 AI-powered tools can support multilingual learners by offering customized language resources tailored to individual student language needs. These tools can assist social studies teachers by identifying key vocabulary and facilitating the translation or integration of terms in various languages. For example, a government teacher working with primarily Chinese-speaking students, who is covering the First Amendment and individual rights, might use AI to create a presentation slide with key terms highlighted in a complex text. AI can identify these terms in English, translate them into Chinese, and either embed the translations within the text or provide them as a separate reference.

This screenshot displays an output from ChatGPT used to create a handout featuring key vocabulary
words. These words have been identified and translated into Traditional Chinese to assist in understanding and learning.

AI integration in the classroom allows students to use language more expressively and intentionally. It enables teachers to seamlessly plan for the use of academic language while leveraging all of the students’ language resources. In the same example, the teacher can ask students to choose which of the freedoms from the First Amendment they view as most important and discuss their choices with partners in either language, with the aid of AI-powered tools. 3 This approach not only helps students understand critical concepts but also improves their comprehension by offering translations in their native languages, making the content more accessible and inclusive.4

3 Bárbara C. Cruz and Stephen J. Thornton, “Social Studies for English Language Learners: Teaching Social Studies that Matters,” Social Education 73, no.6 (2009): 271–74.
4 WIDA. Focus Bulletin: Translanguaging. Accessed July 20, 2024.

This screenshot displays an output from ChatGPT used to create a handout featuring key vocabulary
words. These words have been identified and translated into Traditional Chinese to assist in understanding and learning.

Additionally, research has shown that cognates can significantly aid language acquisition for multilingual students.5 Social studies teachers can use this concept into their pedagogical strategies to enhance student comprehension. AI-powered tools are particularly useful in this context. For
instance, an American History teacher, serving students who speak French, English, and Spanish might use such tools to generate a slide illustrating all possible cognates in the Gettysburg Address. This visual aid can facilitate students’ understanding of the document. To be inclusive of all students’
languages, the teacher should ensure that the slide includes cognates relevant to each language spoken in the classroom. The table of cognates, produced automatically and efficiently by AI, serves as a valuable resource for these students.

https://wida.wisc.edu/sites/default/files/resource/Focus-Bulletin-Translanguaging.pdf.
5 “Using Cognates to Develop Comprehension inEnglish,” Colorín Colorado, accessed July 19, 2024,
https://www.colorincolorado.org/ellstrategies/cognates.

Screenshot of the output table from the prompt: “Identify any cognates in French and Spanish in the Gettysburg Address.”

AI-powered tools have greatly improved the accessibility of media content, particularly benefiting language acquisition for multilingual students. These tools can produce transcripts and captions for videos found on online platforms such as YouTube and Vimeo, making it easier for educators to
share content in various languages. They can also efficiently create transcripts and captions for student or teacher-created content, presenting material in multiple languages. For instance, a social studies teacher might ask students to share their immigrant arrival stories, which can then be recorded, transcribed, or captioned in multiple languages. This approach honors students’ cultures, facilitates collaboration, and maximizes translanguaging as a pedagogy, helping students understand
themselves and others better. Students can also practice public speaking by presenting their stories to the class and receiving constructive feedback from their peers. With AI tools, feedback can be offered in any language, further supporting diverse language needs and enhancing the learning experience.

Social studies teachers can foster an environment that supports multilingual learners by being flexible with their planning. This involves allowing students to navigate and utilize different language practices as they learn. For instance, in a World History class studying the social aspects during the Industrial Revolution in England, students who speak various native languages might read primary sources translated, in parts or in whole, in their own language, engage in group debates in
English, and annotate texts in any language they choose. Flexibility is crucial here; the goal is to help students process and make sense of what they have learned with direct translation only as needed. AI-powered tools can greatly facilitate this process.

These tools can assist teachers in creating discussion prompts in multiple languages, generating translated texts or primary sources, or even developing multilingual word walls. Such capabilities make it easier to integrate diverse language practices in the classroom and support students’
understanding across different languages.

Teachers can design learning objectives that foster bilingualism and multilingualism by emphasizing skills that transcend specific languages. For example, objectives could include: “Students will be able to analyze the concepts of nationalism and patriotism through collaborative research and discussion,” enabling them to engage with diverse perspectives. By utilizing tools like Google Docs or virtual whiteboards, students can collaborate in real-time, contributing in different languages and using AI to translate their contributions effortlessly. AI allows students to navigate and integrate multiple languages in their work, thus enhancing their language acquisition and comprehension. This
approach encourages inclusive participation and deepens understanding of social studies concepts across linguistic boundaries.

Sample Output from ChatGPT: Exploring the question ‘What does patriotism mean to you?’—a
snapshot of sample student reflection on the essence of national pride and identity. 6 (Katie Novak, “Why UDL Matters for English Language Learners,” Language Magazine, March 9, 2018,
https://www.languagemagazine.com/2018/03/09/why-udl-matters-for-english-language-learners/.
7 Anya S. Evmenova, Jered Borup, and Joan Kang Shin, “Harnessing the Power of Generative AI to
AI and Universal Design for Learning (UDL)

AI intersects with Universal Design for Learning (UDL) by promoting flexible language use to support diverse learners, aligning with UDL’s principles of Multiple Means of Representation and Engagement.6

AI can enhance this intersection by using students’ languages as a starting point for brainstorming ideas, creating real-life scenarios that honor their cultures, reducing writer’s block, and producing materials with varying demands and levels.7 Additionally, AI can provide personalized feedback in
multiple languages, facilitate comparisons between student-generated and AI-generated content for reflective learning, and incorporate speech recognition software to support diverse communication needs. For example, a teacher preparing students for a group debate on whether to join the Patriots’ cause or remain loyal to the British at the onset of the Revolutionary War can encourage engagement by allowing students to research in any language and prepare their talking points in both English and their native languages. The debates can then be conducted in the languages of the students’ choosing, with real-time translation and speech recognition software available to support their participation, making the activity inclusive and accessible for all learners. 8
(Support ALL Learners,” Journal of Educational Technology, 2024, https://doi.org/10.1007/s11528
024-00966-x.
(Published May 14, 2024).
8 Cioè-Peña, M. (2022). TrUDL, a path to full inclusion: The intersectional possibilities of translanguaging and Universal Design for Learning.)

The use of AI in education empowers social studies teachers to effectively support multilingual students in academic writing. AI-powered resources, such as Ethiqly and Khanmigo’s Writing Coach, can assist with the writing process by providing sentence starters, suggesting outlines, and brainstorming ideas for multilingual learners.9 In multilingual classrooms where teachers may not be fluent in all languages spoken by their students, this is especially helpful.

AI can also translate and interpret various languages simultaneously, enabling teachers to enhance students’ understanding and expression in their native tongues. For example, a government teacher can use AI to create sentence starters or templates when asking students to write an argumentative
essay on voting rights. These supports can be provided in their native language, in English, or both, as AI offers the flexibility and simplicity needed to accommodate diverse linguistic needs.

The integration of AI in social studies classrooms has emerged as a transformative tool for supporting multilingual learners, offering unprecedented opportunities to enhance engagement, comprehension, and participation. By leveraging AI’s capabilities, educators can create dynamic
and inclusive learning environments that address the diverse linguistic needs of their students. Whether through enhanced media accessibility, flexible lesson planning, or personalized academic support, AI tools enable teachers to break down language barriers and foster a deeper connection to
historical content.
8 TESOL Quarterly, 56(2), 799–812. https://doi.org/10.1002/tesq.3074
9 “AI and Education: Will Chatbots Soon Tutor Your Children?” The New York Times, January 11, 2024,

As we continue to explore the potential of AI in education, it is essential to prioritize intentional and thoughtful integration, ensuring that these tools complement and enhance traditional teaching methods. By embracing AI’s potential, educators can empower multilingual learners, enrich their
educational experiences, and contribute to a more inclusive and equitable learning environment. Through ongoing innovation and adaptation, AI can play a pivotal role in advancing social studies education and supporting the diverse needs of multilingual learners.
https://www.nytimes.com/2024/01/11/technology/ai
chatbots-khan-education-tutoring.html
.

Election 2024: The Dilemma for Teachers

A major goal of teachers, especially secondary school social studies teachers, is to help students learn to evaluate multiple perspectives on issues by weighing supporting evidence, separating fact from fiction, examining underlying assumptions, and then developing their own informed opinions. As a teacher, I generally withhold my opinion on a topic, however, I have no problem asserting that slavery, genocide, racism, dictatorship, and antisemitism are bad. There are no upsides. When we
consider multiple perspectives, the question we should address is why they happen, not whether they happened in the past or should happen again.

On a variety of topics, I provide students with a package of documents to evaluate that includes things I agree with and things that I don’t. During class, my primary role is to ask questions that promote discussion about the document package and the issues and moderate respectful student to-student conversation. I use this teaching approach whether we are discussing issues from the past such as the causes of the American Revolution, or the present, such as the role of human action in climate change, whether a particular military campaign constitutes war crimes, or if a groups behavior should be identified as terrorism. Important topics for discussion when schools reopen in the fall will be evaluations of the Biden administration’s record on foreign policy, the economy, climate, and the migrant/refugee “crisis.” It will also be legitimate to discuss whether Joseph Biden’s
age and physical and mental condition should be an issue in the election whatever your evaluation of his first administration.

The big problem in September will be what to do about Donald Trump. How do you organize a balanced unbiased discussion and evaluation of a candidate who makes outrageous, hateful, blatantly false statements? He is a candidate convicted of 34 counts in a New York trial and who faces three other criminal cases, who has been found guilty of defamation in a civil suit, who tried to overturn the results of the 2020 Presidential election, who continues to claim the 2020 election was stolen, who dismisses any accusation against him as politically motivated, and who demands total immunity against prosecution as a former President.

The November election is going to be a major focus in middle school and high school social studies classes. I am not neutral about slavery, genocide, racism, dictatorship, and antisemitism and I am not
neutral about the threat Donald Trump poses to the future of democracy in the United States and the constitutional foundations of American government and society. I will not use unsubstantiated conspiracy theories, propaganda websites, and Trump sycophantic reports in document packages and pretend students are evaluating legitimate sources.

Even a fact-check exercise of Trump statements leaves a teacher open to charges that they are injecting their opinions into class and trying to influence the ideas of their students. But of course, the job of the teacher is to influence the ideas of their students. Our responsibility to promote civic
discourse supported by evidence and advocate for democracy means we have to influence students to critically think about the campaign and candidates and if that means presenting an accurate picture of the threat posed by Donald Trump, we will have to live with the consequences.

Every teacher will almost definitely have students in their classes who support Donald Trump and the Republican Party, which is their right. They should be welcomed into discussion and encouraged to find evidence to support their positions, but they cannot be permitted to shout down or intimidate other students, things that I witnessed in 2016 and 2020. Donald Trump has continually said scary things, some of which he has backtracked on, and some of which he has not. In my opinion, any one of them should disqualify him to be President of the United States. He told American Jews, already
subject to a rising tide of antisemitism, that “Any Jewish person that votes for Democrats hates their religion. They hate everything about Israel and they should be ashamed of themselves.” He described some immigrants as “not people,” “animals,” and “snakes,” accused them of “poisoning the blood of our country,” a statement that echoed the ideas of Adolf Hitler, and is promising mass deportations in violation of constitutional guarantees of due process, guarantees that in the 14th amendment are not limited to citizens. He asserted without evidence that other countries are emptying their prisons and sending criminals across the border. Trump wants “strong ideological screening of immigrants” because if “you don’t like our religion . . . we don’t want you in our country.” He is apparently unaware or does not care that the United States does not have an official religion.

Trump continually berates the American legal system and undermines public confidence in the law, the courts, and the government. He describes people tried and convicted of crimes during the January 6, 2021 violent invasion of the United States Capitol as “unbelievable patriots” being held as hostages and promises to offer these convicted criminals mass pardons if he is elected. Trump dismisses legal charges against his former aides Peter Navarro and Paul Manafort who were convicted, Navarro of contempt of Congress and Manafort of bank and tax fraud, and claims they were “treated very badly.”

Trump lowers the character of political speech as he raises the level of hostility. He denounces Joseph Biden as “Crooked Joe” and as a stupid President and uses vulgar and offensive language to describe other opponents, especially Black women. At campaign stops, Trump warns that if he is not elected, “It’s going to be a bloodbath for the country,” something he later tried to explain away, and that if he does “not win this year’s presidential election, I don’t think you’re going to have another election, or certainly not an election that’s meaningful.” He says he wants to be a dictator, but only on day one.

If elected, Trump says he would support a nationwide ban on terminating a pregnancy after 15 weeks, severely limiting the reproductive rights of women. A rightwing Supreme Court with three members, I hesitate to call them justices, appointed by Trump the last time he was President may well approve such a ban. If Trump is elected President, he threatens to withdraw the United States from the NATO alliance that has helped prevent broader European wars since tens of millions of people died in World War I and World War II or at a minimum sharply reduce U.S. financial support and to once again withdraw the United States from global efforts to minimize climate change because he does not believe in science. At a time when rightwing anti-democratic political movements are gaining followers and threatening to take power in many European countries, Trump has repeatedly expressed admiration for authoritarian leaders like Vladimir Putin of Russia, Xi Jinping of China, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan of Turkey, Viktor Orbán of Hungary, and Kim Jong Un of North Korea. He praised the Lebanese-based armed group Hezbollah even though they are listed as a terrorist group by the United States State Department. Trump claims, without evidence, that the war in Ukraine and the Hamas attack on Israel would somehow not have happened if he were President.

In his speeches, Trump continuously lies or exaggerates about his own prowess and record as President. Trump didn’t create the greatest economy or pass the biggest tax cut in U.S. history. He didn’t do more for African Americans than any president since Abraham Lincoln. He didn’t defeat ISIS or increase government revenue and he wasn’t reelected in 2020.

Teachers should not tell students who to vote for or tell them how they are voting, but you are remiss if you do not help them understand who Donald Trump is and what he represents. If you are unsure how to do this, you can have students read and debate the points raised in this essay. Students can evaluate whether it raises legitimate concerns, or it is just anti-Trump propaganda.

Einstein’s Postwar Campaign to Save the World from Nuclear Destruction

Lawrence S. Wittner

This article appeared originally in Foreign Policy in Focus. It is reprinted with permission.

Although the popular new Netflix film, Einstein and the Bomb, purports to tell the story of the great physicist’s relationship to nuclear weapons, it ignores his vital role in rallying the world against nuclear catastrophe. Aghast at the use of nuclear weapons in August 1945 to obliterate the
cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Einstein threw himself into efforts to prevent worldwide nuclear annihilation. In September, responding to a letter from Robert Hutchins, Chancellor of the University of Chicago, about nuclear weapons, Einstein contended that, “as long as nations demand unrestricted sovereignty, we shall undoubtedly be faced with still bigger wars, fought with bigger and technologically more advanced weapons.”

Thus, “the most important task of intellectuals is to make this clear to the general public and to emphasize over and over again the need to establish a well organized world government.” Four days
later, he made the same point to an interviewer, insisting that “the only salvation for civilization and the human race lies in the creation of a world government, with security of nations founded upon law.”

Determined to prevent nuclear war, Einstein repeatedly hammered away at the need to replace international anarchy with a federation of nations operating under international law. In October 1945, together with other prominent Americans (among them Senator J. William Fulbright, Supreme
Court Justice Owen Roberts, and novelist Thomas Mann), Einstein called for a “Federal Constitution of the World.” That November, he returned to this theme in an interview published in the Atlantic
Monthly. “The release of atomic energy has not created a new problem,” he said. “It has merely made more urgent the necessity of solving an existing one…As long as there are sovereign nations possessing great power, war is inevitable.” And war, sooner or later, would become nuclear war.

Einstein promoted these ideas through a burgeoning atomic scientists’ movement in which he played a central role. To bring the full significance of the atomic bomb to the public, the newly-formed Federation of American Scientists put together an inexpensive paperback, One World or None, with individual essays by prominent Americans. In his contribution to the book, Einstein wrote that he was “convinced there is only one way out” and this necessitated creating “a supranational organization” to “make it impossible for any country to wage war.” This hard-hitting book, which first appeared in early 1946, sold more than 100,000 copies.

Given Einstein’s fame and his well publicized efforts to avert a nuclear holocaust, in May 1946 he became chair of the newly-formed Emergency Committee of Atomic Scientists, a fundraising and
policymaking arm for the atomic scientists’ movement. In the Committee’s first fund appeal, Einstein warned that “the unleashed power of the atom has changed everything save our modes of thinking, and thus we drift toward unparalleled catastrophe.” Even so, despite the fact that Einstein, like most members of the early atomic scientists’ movement, saw world government as the best recipe for survival in the nuclear age, there seemed good reason to consider shorter-range objectives. After all,
the Cold War was emerging and nations were beginning to formulate nuclear policies. An early Atomic Scientists of Chicago statement, prepared by Eugene Rabinowitch, editor of the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, underscored practical considerations. “Since world government is unlikely to be achieved within the short time available before the atomic armaments race will lead to an acute danger of armed conflict,” it noted, “the establishment of international controls must be considered as a problem of immediate urgency.” Consequently, the movement increasingly worked in support of specific nuclear arms control and disarmament measures.

In the context of the heightening Cold War, however, taking even limited steps forward proved impossible. The Russian government sharply rejected the Baruch Plan for international control of
atomic energy and, instead, developed its own atomic arsenal. In turn, U.S. President Harry Truman, in February 1950, announced his decision to develop a hydrogen bomb―a weapon a thousand times as powerful as its predecessor. Naturally, the atomic scientists were deeply disturbed by this lurch toward disaster. Appearing on television, Einstein called once more for the creation of a “supra national” government as the only “way out of the impasse.” Until then, he declared, “annihilation beckons.”


Despite the dashing of his hopes for postwar action to end the nuclear menace, Einstein lent his support over the following years to peace, nuclear disarmament, and world government projects. The most important of these ventures occurred in 1955, when Bertrand Russell, like Einstein, a proponent of world federation, conceived the idea of issuing a public statement by a small group of the world’s most eminent scientists about the existential peril nuclear weapons brought to modern war. Asked by Russell for his support, Einstein was delighted to sign the statement and did so in one of his last actions before his death that April. In July, Russell presented the statement to a large meeting in London, packed with representatives of the mass communications media. In the shadow of the Bomb, it read, “we have to learn to think in a new way…Shall we…choose death because we cannot forget our quarrels? We appeal as human beings to human beings: Remember your humanity, and forget the rest.”

This Russell-Einstein Manifesto, as it became known, helped trigger a remarkable worldwide uprising against nuclear weapons in the late 1950s and early 1960s, culminating in the world’s first
significant nuclear arms control measures. Furthermore, in later years, it inspired legions of activists and world leaders. Among them was the Soviet Union’s Mikhail Gorbachev, whose “new thinking,” modeled on the Manifesto, brought a dramatic end to the Cold War and fostered substantial nuclear disarmament. The Manifesto thus provided an appropriate conclusion to Einstein’s unremitting campaign to save the world from nuclear destruction.

The Atomic Bomb: Albert Einstein’s Letter to President Franklin D. Roosevelt
Digital History ID 1184
Author: Albert Einstein
Date:1939
https://www.digitalhistory.uh.edu/disp_textb
ook.cfm?smtID=3&psid=1184

Annotation: In August 1939, six months after physicists Otto Hahn and Fritz Strassman had demonstrated the process of nuclear fission, Albert Einstein, at the urging of physicist Leo Szilard, wrote to President Franklin D. Roosevelt about the danger of Nazi Germany creating an atomic bomb.


Document: Sir:
Some recent work by E. Fermi and L. Szilard, which has been communicated to me in manuscript, leads me to expect that the element uranium may be turned into a new and important source of energy in the immediate future. Certain aspects of the situation which has arisen seem to call for
watchfulness and, if necessary, quick action on the part of the Administration. I believe therefore that it is my duty to bring to your attention the following facts and recommendations:


In the course of the last four months it has been made probable-through the work of Joliot in France as well as Fermi and Szilard in America-that it may become possible to set up a nuclear chain reaction in a large mass of uranium, by which vast amount of power and large quantities of new radium like elements would be generated. Now it appears almost certain that this could be
achieved in the immediate future.

This new phenomenon would also lead to the construction of bombs, and it is conceivable-though much less certain-that extremely powerful bombs of a new type may thus be constructed. A single bomb of this type, carried by boat and exploded in a port, might very well destroy the whole port
together with some of the surrounding territory. However, such bombs might very well prove to be too heavy for transportation by air.


The United States has only very poor ores of uranium in moderate quantities. There is some good ore in Canada and the former Czechoslovakia, while the most important source of uranium is the Belgian Congo.


Yours very truly,

In view of this situation you may think it desirable to have some permanent contact maintained between the Administration and the group of physicists working on chain reactions in America. One possible way of achieving this might be for you to entrust with this task a person who has your confidence and who could perhaps serve in an inofficial capacity. His task might comprise the following:


a) to approach Government Departments, keep them informed of the further development, and put forward recommendations for Government action, giving particular attention to the problem of securing a supply of uranium ore for the United States:


b) to speed up the experimental work, which is at present being carried on within the limits of the budgets of University laboratories, by providing funds, if such funds be required, through his contacts with private persons who are willing to make contributions for this cause, and perhaps also by obtaining the co-operation of industrial laboratories which have the necessary equipment.


I understand that Germany has actually stopped the sale of uranium from the Czechoslovakian mines which she has taken over. That she should have taken such early action might perhaps be understood on the ground that the son of the German Under-Secretary of State, von Weizsacker, is attached to the Kaiser-Wilhelm-Institute in Berlin where some of the American work on uranium is now being repeated.
[signed] Albert Einstein


The secret of the bomb should be committed to a World Government, and the United States should immediately announce its readiness to give it to a World Government. This government should be
founded by the United States, the Soviet Union, and Great Britain —the only three powers with great military strength. All three of them should commit to this World Government all of their military strength.


The fact that there are only three nations with great military power should make it easier rather than harder to establish such a government . . . Since I do not foresee that atomic energy is to be a great boon for a long time, I have to say that for the present it is a menace. Perhaps it is well that it should
be. It may intimidate the human race into bringing order into its international affairs, which, without the pressure of fear, it would not do.
https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/1945/11/einstein-on-the-atomicbomb/656626/

Russell-Einstein Manifesto (London, July 9, 1955)
https://ahf.nuclearmuseum.org/ahf/keydocuments/russell-einstein-manifesto/

In the tragic situation which confronts humanity, we feel that scientists should assemble in conference to appraise the perils that have arisen as a result of the development of weapons of mass destruction, and to discuss a resolution in the spirit of the appended draft. We are speaking on this occasion, not as members of this or that nation, continent, or creed, but as human beings, members of the species Man, whose continued existence is in doubt. The world is full of conflicts; and overshadowing all minor conflicts, the titanic struggle between Communism and anti-Communism.

Almost everybody who is politically conscious has strong feelings about one or more of these issues; but we want you, if you can, to set aside such feelings and consider yourselves only as members of a
biological species which has had a remarkable history, and whose disappearance none of us can desire.

We shall try to say no single word which should appeal to one group rather than to another. All, equally, are in peril, and, if the peril is understood, there is hope that they may collectively avert it.
We have to learn to think in a new way. We have to learn to ask ourselves, not what steps can be taken to give military victory to whatever group we prefer, for there no longer are such steps; the question we have to ask ourselves is: what steps can be taken to prevent a military contest of which the issue must be disastrous to all parties?


The general public, and even many men in positions of authority, have not realized what would be involved in a war with nuclear bombs. The general public still thinks in terms of the obliteration of cities. It is understood that the new bombs are more powerful than the old, and that, while one A
bomb could obliterate Hiroshima, one H bomb could obliterate the largest cities, such as London, New York, and Moscow. No doubt, in an H-bomb war, great cities would be obliterated. But this is one of the minor disasters that would have to be faced. If everybody in London, New York, and Moscow were exterminated, the world might, in the course of a few centuries, recover from the blow. But we now know, especially since the Bikini test, that nuclear bombs can gradually spread destruction over a very much wider area than had been supposed.


It is stated on very good authority that a bomb can now be manufactured which will be 2,500 times as powerful as that which destroyed Hiroshima. Such a bomb, if exploded near the ground or under water, sends radio-active particles into the upper air. They sink gradually and reach the surface of the earth in the form of a deadly dust or rain. It was this dust which infected the Japanese fishermen and their catch of fish. No one knows how widely such lethal radio-active particles might be diffused, but
the best authorities are unanimous in saying that a war with H-bombs might possibly put an end tothe human race. It is feared that if many H-bombs are used there will be universal death, sudden only for a minority, but for the majority a slow torture of disease and disintegration.


Many warnings have been uttered by eminent men of science and by authorities in and both sides would set to work to military strategy. None of them will say that the worst results are certain. What they do say is that these results are possible, and no one can be sure that they will not be realized. We have not yet found that the views of experts on this question depend in any degree upon their politics or prejudices. They depend only, so far as our researches have revealed, upon the extent of the
particular expert’s knowledge. We have found that the men who know most are the most gloomy.

Here, then, is the problem which we present to you, stark and dreadful and inescapable: Shall we put an end to the human race; or shall mankind renounce war? People will not face this alternative because it is so difficult to abolish war. The abolition of war will demand is tasteful limitations of national sovereignty. But what perhaps impedes understanding of the situation more than anything else is that the term “mankind” feels vague and abstract. People scarcely realize in imagination that the danger is to themselves and their children and their grandchildren, and not only to a dimly apprehended humanity. They can scarcely bring themselves to grasp that they, individually, and those whom they love are in imminent danger of perishing agonizingly. And so they hope that perhaps
war may be allowed to continue provided modern weapons are prohibited. This hope is illusory. Whatever agreements not to use H-bombs had been reached in time of peace, they would no
longer be considered binding in time of war, manufacture H-bombs as soon as war broke out, for, if one side manufactured the bombs and the other did not, the side that manufactured them would inevitably be victorious.

Although an agreement to renounce nuclear weapons as part of a general reduction of armaments would not afford an ultimate solution, it would serve certain important purposes. First, any agreement between East and West is to the good in so far as it tends to diminish tension. Second, the abolition of thermo-nuclear weapons, if each side believed that the other had carried it out sincerely, would lessen the fear of a sudden attack in the style of Pearl Harbor, which at present keeps both sides in a state of nervous apprehension. We should, therefore, welcome such an agreement though only as a first step.

Most of us are not neutral in feeling, but, as human beings, we have to remember that, if the issues between East and West are to be decided in any manner that can give any possible satisfaction to anybody, whether Communist or anti-Communist, whether Asian or European or American, whether White or Black, then these issues must not be decided by war. We should wish this to be understood, both in the East and in the West.

There lies before us, if we choose, continual progress in happiness, knowledge, and wisdom. Shall we, instead, choose death, because we cannot forget our quarrels? We appeal as human beings to human beings: Remember your humanity, and forget the rest. If you can do so, the way lies open to a new Paradise; if you cannot, there lies before you the risk of universal death.

Resolution:
We invite this Congress, and through it the scientists of the world and the general public, to subscribe to the following resolution: “In view of the fact that in any future world war nuclear weapons will
certainly be employed, and that such weapons threaten the continued existence of mankind, we urge the governments of the world to realize, and to acknowledge publicly, that their purpose cannot be furthered by a world war, and we urge them, consequently, to find peaceful means for the settlement of all matters of dispute between them.”

The Exploitation of Enslaved Women During The 18th Century Colonial America

Logan Stovall

Logan Stovall is an eighth grade student at Montclair Kimberley Academy in Montclair, NJ

The 18th century represents a dark period in American history when the institution of slavery thrived, and the exploitation of enslaved Black women flourished. The cruel realities endured by Black women during this time were not only a consequence of their enslavement but were magnified by both their race and gender, perpetuating a cycle of inequality and suffering. Beyond the physical captivity, these women endured a complex oppression that not only involved grueling labor but also made them victims of sexual violence. The harsh reality of this oppression becomes evident when one reflects on how the clothing worn by enslaved Black women served as a physical manifestation of their fragile existence. The clothes they wore were not just rags or pieces of fabric used to cover their bodies; they represented a system that dehumanized and abused them.  During the 18th century, an enslaved Black woman’s gender and race primarily affected the way she lived and thrived in an illiberal society. Understanding the exploitation of enslaved Black women during the American colonial era requires a closer look into the sweat of their daily labor, the sexual abuse they endured, and the clothing they wore that bound them to such a harsh life.

However, before any analysis regarding the exploitation of enslaved Black women is made, one must first consider that the racial stereotypes and discriminatory practices against enslaved Black women during the colonial era were the underlying causes of their mistreatment. The widely accepted racist ideas of Antebellum white slaveholders led them to think of their enslaved people as both biologically and culturally inferior. Due to their understanding of the social hierarchy at this time, slaveholders often whipped and physically mistreated enslaved women under their supervision.[i] In addition to the racist beliefs they held, slaveholders also created various stereotypes about enslaved Black women. One such popular stereotype was the “Mammy” caricature. The “mammy caricature” depicted enslaved Black women as enjoying their servitude, being physically unattractive, and only fit to be domestic workers.[ii]

In contrast to the “mammy caricature”, slave owners also created a more promiscuous stereotype of enslaved Black women: the “Jezebel” figure. The Jezebel caricature was used during slavery to justify a slaveholder’s objectification and sexual exploitation of enslaved Black women.[iii] The Mammy and Jezebel caricatures, along with various other derogatory stereotypes that plagued enslaved Black women, heavily influenced how the rest of the White population during the Antebellum period perceived and treated Black women. Sadly, these caricatures endured for decades even after colonial times.

With racial stereotyping forming the underlying cause of discrimination against Black women, a significant amount of White slave masters often subjected Black women to harsh labor conditions. Enslaved women were often forced to work in the fields from sunrise to sunset where they endured physical and emotional abuse. On larger farms and plantations, for example, women were forced to perform tasks like hoeing and ditching entire fields. These were the most exhausting and uninteresting forms of fieldwork.[iv] Slaveholders also held enslaved women accountable for cleaning and tidying communal areas like stables and expected them to spread manure as a fertilizer.[v] Moreover, slave owners frequently questioned how much time off enslaved women needed to adequately take care of their families and children. When not offered any downtime by their slaveholders, enslaved women had to bring their children with them to the fields and strap them to their backs as they worked tirelessly. [vi]

Black women’s exploitation extended beyond the fields. In many instances, the labor performed by enslaved women was prolonged and complicated. For example, many enslaved women began to work for slaveholders at a very young age. There was little free time for enslaved women to rest, given that most women worked for their master five to six days a week. This included keeping the owner’s homes clean, cooking food, and washing their clothes.[vii] In short, enslaved women were expected to work tirelessly, both in the fields and in the house. The slave masters did not care about  the well-being of their enslaved women and exploited them for their free labor.  For Black women, slavery in the southern colonies meant long days performing menial, exhausting tasks, sometimes in the hot, baking sun.  After working prolonged, hard days for the slaveholders, these women had to care for their own families, which was often a physical and mental challenge due to the absence of time to rest. When enslaved women did not meet the expectations for their work by their enslaver, they would oftentimes be taken advantage of sexually or physically assaulted as a form of punishment. Unfortunately, this possibility became a reality for many enslaved Black women.

Indeed, as the slave population in America grew larger through the importation of slaves, enslaved Black women primarily as reproducers of a valuable labor force rather than merely a part of the labor force.  The sexual exploitation of Black women extended from sexual gratification of their White slaveholders to include reproducing offspring that would expand their workforce. Though slave owners valued enslaved women as laborers, they were also well aware that female slaves could be used to successfully reproduce new labor (more children who would grow up to be slaves) by continuing their role as full-time mothers.[viii] This presented slaveholders with a dilemma because West African women usually had some prior agricultural experience (like growing tobacco and rice) which could be used to the slaveholders’ benefit.[ix]

In 1756, Reverend Peter Fontaine of Charles City County, Virginia, stated that Black females were “far more prolific than…white women.” This form of racial stereotyping made enslaved women extremely vulnerable to physical assault.[x] Many white enslavers raped Black women for sexual pleasure, as well as for their ability to produce children who would become slaves and ultimately increase their wealth. Instead of perpetuating the stereotype that all enslaved Black women were unattractive and were only fit to be domestic workers, they now were feeding into the stereotype that Black women were promiscuous and desired for the reproduction of enslaved children who could be used or sold. This form of physical exploitation was pervasive throughout the Antebellum South.

In addition to labor and sexual exploitation, clothing was another form of exploitation that enslaved Black women were forced to endure. While these women often knitted or otherwise made beautiful garments for White women and their children, the fabrics that enslaved Black women wore themselves offered minimal protection from the weather and had to be inexpensive and easy to make.[xi] Their clothing was so cheap in quality that it often disassembled or tore within weeks. As a result, enslaved women often borrowed clothing from one another or even stole clothing from the slave master’s house. They did this to give themselves or their families warm, sustainable garments, and sometimes, to blend into the free population. Oppressors often made enslaved women wear poor, rugged clothing to symbolize a Black woman’s low status and to cultivate racial stereotypes depicting Black women as inferior. Indeed, one reason why enslaved women wanted to steal White people’s clothes was because they wanted to appear as free Black people with increased status.[xii]

Despite being subjected to clothing exploitation, many enslaved women nevertheless tried to continue to be connected to their former culture by wearing West African garments. Enslaved women working in slaveholders’ homes were expected to cover their heads with lightweight white caps, which other members of the household also wore. However, to continue the West African tradition, many enslaved women also chose to wear brightly colored head wraps that surrounded their heads and were secured with knots and tucking’s.[xiii] They also sometimes wore cowrie shells in their hair; which were very expensive and far more valuable than money. These cowrie shells also appeared in spirit bundles as parts of clothing and jewelry, implying their use as amulets.

Black women not only wore these West African garments to remain connected with their former cultures, but they also wore the garments as a form of resistance against enslavement.[xiv] Enslaved Black women despised their status as slaves but were able to feel proud about and connect to their former West African heritage when they wore their cultural headdresses. The significance of these garments likely gave Black women a feeling of strength and empowerment as they were emotionally frightened by the abuse they faced from their enslavers.

During the 18th century, the exploitation of enslaved Black women through their gender and race greatly influenced the way they survived and flourished in a prejudicial society. Enslaved women were exploited in numerous ways and were expected to address the needs of others to the detriment of caring for themselves and their families. They worked extremely hard, both in the house and in the field, and did whatever they were commanded to do withstanding both physical and emotional abuse. They were often raped through their shabby clothing and physically assaulted by their master’s for punishment, as a means to increase their profit in human labor. But still, an enslaved Black woman was able to overcome these acts of exploitation non-violently and create her own peace by wearing and displaying garments that were distinct to her West African culture. Given all that these enslaved women endured, we should respect and admire their ability to overcome such incredible hardships.

Smithsonian, and National Museum of African American History and Culture. “Cowrie Shells and Trade Power.” National Museum of African American History and Culture. Accessed November 15, 2023. https://nmaahc.si.edu/cowrie-shells-and-trade-power#:~:text=Europeans%20in%20the%2016th%20century,at%20their%20use%20as%20amulets .


[i] LDHI, “Hidden Voices: Enslaved Women in the Lowcountry and U.S. South,” LDHI, accessed November 27, 2023, https://ldhi.library.cofc.edu/exhibits/show/hidden-voices/enslaved-womens-work.

[ii] LDHI, “Hidden Voices,” LDHI.

[iii] LDHI, “Hidden Voices,” LDHI.

[iv] Jennifer Hallam, “The Slave Experience: Men, Women & Gender,” Slavery and the Making of America, accessed November 27, 2023, https://www.thirteen.org/wnet/slavery/experience/gender/history.html.

[v] Emily West, Enslaved Women in America: From Colonial Times to Emancipation (Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2017), 29

[vi] West, Enslaved Women, 28.

[vii] LDHI, “Hidden Voices,” LDHI.

[viii] West, Enslaved Women, 28.

[ix] West, Enslaved Women, 29

[x] West, Enslaved Women, 31.

[xi] Daina Ramey Berry and Deleso A. Alford, eds., Enslaved Women in America: An Encyclopedia enhanced credo edition ed. (Santa Barbara, CA: Greenwood, 2012), 34 and 35.

[xii] Katherine Gruber, ed., “Clothing and Adornment of Enslaved People in Virginia,” Encyclopedia Virginia, last modified December 7, 2020, accessed November 5, 2023, https://encyclopediavirginia.org/entries/slave-clothing-and-adornment-in-virginia/.

[xiii] Gruber, “Clothing and Adornment,” Encyclopedia Virginia.

[xiv] Smithsonian and National Museum of African American History and Culture, “Cowrie Shells and Trade Power,” National Museum of African American History and Culture, accessed November 15, 2023, https://nmaahc.si.edu/cowrie-shells-and-trade-power#:~:text=Europeans%20in%20the%2016th%20century,at%20their%20use%20as%20amulets.


Berry, Daina Ramey, and Deleso A. Alford, eds. Enslaved Women in America: An Encyclopedia. Enhanced Credo edition ed. Santa Barbara, CA: Greenwood, 2012.

Gruber , Katherine, ed. “Clothing and Adornment of Enslaved People in Virginia.” Encyclopedia Virginia. Last modified December 7, 2020. Accessed November 5, 2023. https://encyclopediavirginia.org/entries/slave-clothing-and-adornment-in-virginia/.

Hallam, Jennifer. “The Slave Experience: Men, Women & Gender.” Slavery and the Making of America. Accessed November 27, 2023. https://www.thirteen.org/wnet/slavery/experience/gender/history.html.

LDHI. “Hidden Voices: Enslaved Women in the Lowcountry and U.S. South.” LDHI. Accessed November 27, 2023. https://ldhi.library.cofc.edu/exhibits/show/hidden-voices/enslaved-womens-work.

West, Emily. Enslaved Women in America: From Colonial Times to Emancipation. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2017.

Sally Hemings’ Legacy of Freedom and Motherhood

Ms. Aquino is an eighth grade student at Montclair Kimberley Academy in Montclair, NJ

Sally Hemings led an extraordinarily complex life, yet her story inspires thousands of women, myself included. Despite the intricacies, she fought against the notion of becoming just another enslaved individual in her family’s generational cycle. Sally sought to change the trajectory of her children’s lives, offering them opportunities beyond enslavement. Instead of securing her own freedom, she made a selfless choice to promise freedom to her future children—a decision that stands out as a remarkable act of heroism. Sally Hemings’s life, sacrifices, and ability to persuade Thomas Jefferson into making her a  promise was an act of heroism towards her children. Her story is a testament to the profound strength of a mother’s love and the power of quiet rebellion against an oppressive system.

Born into slavery, Sally began her journey as one of Polly’s , Thomas Jefferson’s daughter, maid, and caretaker. Over time, she developed a close relationship with Polly, potentially even her aunt as well.[1] During their time in Paris, where Sally accompanied Polly in her studies, Thomas Jefferson expressed reservations about Sally’s  ability to care for his daughter because she was so young, fourteen at the time. However, although she was well-trained in caring for people, Thomas Jefferson expressed that she was “wholly incapable of looking after” his daughter and could not do it “without some superior to direct her.”[2]  Despite Jefferson’s doubts about her abilities, Sally gracefully navigated the unfamiliar Parisian landscape and spent twenty-six months in Paris, also reuniting with her brother James. She contracted smallpox but received proper care and was compensated for her work. Sally also learned French during her stay, though her literacy in both languages remains uncertain.[3]

In Paris, at the age of fourteen, Sally’s  involvement in a sexual relationship with Thomas Jefferson, whose wife died in 1782, resulted in her pregnancy, which shifted her trajectory dramatically. While accompanying Thomas Jefferson’s daughter, Polly, to Paris, Hemings was caught in a complex web of power dynamics and his unspoken desires. Yet, a fateful encounter with Jefferson forever altered her life. Madison Hemings, Sally Hemings’s son, stated that his mother became Mr. Jefferson’s concubine in France. Though in France, slavery was not legal, so Sally was considered a free person. Torn between the possibility of freedom in Paris and the promise of a better future for her children, Sally made a heart-wrenching choice. She negotiated an extraordinary deal: freedom for her future children at 21, sacrificing her own chance at escape. In the face of unimaginable hardship, this selflessness began her quiet rebellion. She did not try to negotiate for freedom for herself.[4] Additionally, Thomas Jefferson wrote about Sally as they continued their “relationship” after returning to Monticello. He wrote, “It is well known that the man whom it delighted the people to honor, keeps, and for many years past has kept, as his concubine, her name is Sally.”[5] Jefferson clearly stated that Sally was his concubine, his mistress. In his eyes, Sally was just another woman.

After returning to Monticello with Jefferson and his daughters in 1789, she became a household servant and lady’s maid.[6] In addition, Madison Hemings stated, “It was her duty, all her life which I can remember, up to the time of father’s death, to take care of his chamber and wardrobe, look after us children and do such light work as sewing.” As well as being a maid, Sally’s job was cleaning Jefferson’s closet and sewing. Also, upon returning to Monticello, Sally’s relationship with Jefferson, though shrouded in secrecy, was an undeniable reality. Sally Hemings’s relationship with Thomas Jefferson was well-known throughout Monticello. Some of Jefferson’s friends and even political colleagues knew about them. However, this new sexual relationship did not come as a surprise to people. It was, unfortunately, widespread for white men to have sexual activity with enslaved women, let alone enslavers with enslaved women. However, society could ignore Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings if he kept them discreet, so he never acknowledged the rumors, and they continued their “relationship.”[7] Their relationship lasted until Jefferson died on July 4, 1826.

She  bore him six children, each carrying the weight of their father’s legacy and the burden of slavery. Although, only four survived to adulthood, Harried, Beverly, Madison and Eston. Despite her duties as a servant and Jefferson’s “concubine,” Sally nurtured her children with unwavering love and a fierce determination to see them free. Madison Hemings said, “She gave birth to four others, and Jefferson was the father of all. They were Beverly, Harriet, Madison (myself), and Eston – three sons and one daughter.”[8] The oldest, Beverly Hemings, worked as a carpenter for the duration of his enslaving. He was also into music, more specifically, the violin.[9] Harriet Hemings was born a few years after Beverly in 1801. She grew up enslaved, spinning wood. After Harriet, Madison is the child that had the most to say about his mother’s life and what he thinks about their relationship. Lastly, there is Eston Hemings, the youngest son out of them all. He obtained knowledge in woodworking and was granted freedom in 1829. After Jefferson’s death, Martha, his daughter, allowed Sally to leave the plantation to live with her younger sons, Madison and Eston, in Charlottesville, Virginia. Madison and Eston gladly took their mother in with open arms and loving hearts. They initially passed as white for the U.S. Census, but later Sally identified as “free mulatto.” Sally lived freely with her sons until she died in 1835.[10] 

             Throughout her life, Sally Hemings made decisions that transformed her children’s lives and impacted women at large. Her selfless act in Paris, negotiating freedom for her unborn children, inspires women and their own children. In the course of her life, just like many other enslaved women, Sally Hemings’s children were fathered by her owner. In  the context of the era where enslaved women lacked legal rights,[11] Sally’s story reflects the harsh reality of exploitation. The dynamic between her and Jefferson can vary, though, taking into consideration age and consent. Sally was fourteen, and  Jefferson was about forty years old.[12] Additionally, enslaved women often were raped and sexually harassed without being able to speak up or say no. Despite  these challenges, she rose above and stands as a stark motivation for women across the globe.  

            Sally Hemings’s story is a personal triumph and a beacon of hope for all who fight against injustice. Pulitzer Prize-winning historian Annette Gordon-Reed also said, “Though enslaved, Sally Hemings helped shape her life and the lives of her children, who got an almost 50-year head start on emancipation, escaping the system that had engulfed their ancestors and millions of others. Whatever we may feel about it today, this was important to her.” The measures Sally took to ensure emancipation for her children were significant and display the unconditional love she had for them. For a mother to surrender her own freedom, her only chance to escape, for her children was selfless. Her quiet defiance, her unwavering love for her children, and her ability to negotiate freedom within the confines of slavery inspire generations of women and mothers. Her life, sacrifices, and ability to persuade Thomas Jefferson into making her a promise was an act of heroism towards her kids. While inspiring many women worldwide, the most significant impact was on her children. Ones who exclaimed the great things she did for them. On the other hand, her children were not the only ones who spoke highly of her.  Her story carries a historical significance and profound lessons about the human spirit’s capacity for resilience and love. A woman who defied the odds and shaped the destiny of her children, leaving behind a legacy that continues to resonate  with many women and children today.

Hemings, Madison. “Sally Hemings” [Sally Hemings]. https://monticello.org. Accessed November 9, 2023. https://www.monticello.org/sallyhemings/.

“The Memoirs of Madison Hemings” [The Memoirs of Madison Hemings]. https://www.pbs.org. Accessed December 17, 2023. https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/jefferson/cron/1873march.html.

Adams, William Howard. The Paris Years of Thomas Jefferson.

Gordon-Reed, Annette. The Hemingses of Monticello.

“Life Story: Sally Hemings” [Life Story: Sally Hemings]. https://nyhistory.org. Accessed December 14, 2023. https://wams.nyhistory.org/building-a-new-nation/american-woman/sally-hemings/#:~:text=Sally%20lived%20in%20Paris%20long,together%20when%20they%20reached%20adulthood .

Thorson, David. “Beverly Hemings” [Beverly Hemings]. https://www.monticello.org/. Accessed December 17, 2023. https://www.monticello.org/research-education/thomas-jefferson-encyclopedia/beverly-hemings-2/.

The University of Virginia. “The Hemings Family” [The Hemings Family]. https://monticello.org. Accessed November 6, 2023. https://www.monticello.org/slavery/paradox-of-liberty/enslaved-families-of-monticello/the-hemings-family/ .


[1] William Howard Adams, The Paris Years of Thomas Jefferson, Page 220

[2] William Howard Adams, The Paris Years of Thomas Jefferson, Page 220

[3] Madison Hemings, “Sally Hemings” [Sally Hemings], Monticello.org, accessed November 9, 2023, https://www.monticello.org/sallyhemings/.

[4] Hemings, “Sally Hemings,” Monticello.org.

[5] Hemings, “Sally Hemings,” Monticello.org.

[6] Hemings, “Sally Hemings,” Monticello.org.

[7] “Life Story: Sally Hemings” [Life Story: Sally Hemings], nyhistory.org, accessed December 14, 2023, https://wams.nyhistory.org/building-a-new-nation/american-woman/sally-hemings/#:~:text=Sally%20lived%20in%20Paris%20long,together%20when%20they%20reached%20adulthood.

[8] Hemings, “Sally Hemings,” https://monticello.org.

[9] David Thorson, “Beverly Hemings” [Beverly Hemings], https://www.monticello.org/, accessed December 17, 2023, https://www.monticello.org/research-education/thomas-jefferson-encyclopedia/beverly-hemings-2/.

[10] Life Story,” https://nyhistory.org

[11] Hemings, “Sally Hemings,” https://monticello.org.

[12] Hemings, “Sally Hemings,” https://monticello.org.


The Social Cost of Deindustrialization: Postwar Trenton, New Jersey

Patrick Luckie

Studying local history is something that is often overlooked and underestimated in social studies classrooms around the country. Think about it—do you have any memory of learning about your own local community in a coordinated school or social studies effort? Big ideas like imperialism, global culture, and other themes of the past and present usually take precedence over learning about one’s own local history in the high school. As part of my undergraduate senior research project at Rider University, I grappled with this fact and produced a short study of my own local history which I used to inform my instruction in the classroom. This article will present the research I have done and will end with a short analysis of how my research project on local history has affected my instruction in Ewing High School and how it can change the way we think about teaching local history in all American high school social studies classrooms.

These powerful words were written by Dr. Jack Washington, a teacher of Social Studies in Trenton public schools for over 40 years and author of, The Quest for Equality: Trenton’s Black Community 1890-1965 which traces racial struggle and movements for equality over the city’s history. Trenton’s uniqueness as Washington describes, is a product of its deep history, rooted in the American Revolution, World War II, and the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s. Trenton was once a manufacturing powerhouse, home to multiple industries which forged the urban landscape of the state’s capital and produced thousands of union jobs for its inhabitants. These included the mighty John A. Roebling’s Sons Company, which aided in the creation of the Brooklyn Bridge and whose factory in West Chambersburg served as a symbol of innovation and opportunity for decades. Trenton’s pottery industry was also one of the largest and most successful in the whole nation alongside its iron, steel, rubber, and textile companies. Together, these industries provided enough stable employment and pay to support a rapidly growing population of mostly first and second generation European immigrants from Italy, Ireland, Germany, Poland, and Hungary, to name a few. Trenton’s manufacturing prowess was best showcased in 1917 with the first lighting of the famous “Trenton Makes, The World Takes” sign on the Lower Trenton Bridge, a symbol which still stands today in 2023.

 The “golden age” of the city, as historian John T. Cumbler describes it, lasted from around 1850 to 1920 when Trenton established itself as one of the manufacturing capitals of the nation.[2] Almost perfectly situated between two of America’s largest cities in New York and Philadelphia, Trenton industrialists used its strategic geographic location along the Delaware River to tap into large markets and supply the massive manufacturing needs of the east coast. Trenton at this time was truly a symbol of the American dream, and people flocked to the city in search of opportunities. By 1920, the population of the city surpassed 119,000 people and it was amongst the most densely populated places in the state of New Jersey.[3]

The first signs of the city’s decline came with the weakening of its labor movement. By the 1920s, the age of mechanization had begun and the economic shift from factory work to mechanized manufacturing began weakening labor unions overtime. Worker’s unions and cooperation between owners and workers alike had been central to the functioning of the local economy and the glue by which the city binded itself together. Overtime, businesses could no longer maintain the standards of work they had previously upheld and conditions within the city started to slowly deteriorate. From 1910-1920 Trenton underwent its largest leap in population within a decade and shortly thereafter it began experiencing some of its greatest economic struggles. Plants began relocating outside of the city and unionized jobs were becoming more and more difficult to attain. Economic historians have grappled with this shift in the post-war era, claiming “US corporations aggressively sought to break free of expensive union contracts and to seek out ways to pay lower wages and allied social costs in order to increase profits.”[4] This is a persistent trend in this study. With great increases in population and the changing state of the local and national economy, Trenton suffered meaningful losses in employment and manufacturing output.

With the Great Depression beginning in 1929 and the waging of the Second World War in 1939, Trenton retreated back to manufacturing and away from addressing the issues surrounding labor which had marked its initial decline. The waging of the war meant a massive nation-wide mobilization of industry towards fueling the war effort. The war-time economy of Trenton temporarily revitalized the city. Roebling’s Sons employed droves of new workers, opportunities for overtime became more available, unions strengthened, worker’s pay went up, and the largest wave of black migrants in the city’s history began making their way to Trenton beginning in the 1940s.[5] These migrants came to Trenton and other cities in what is known as The Great Migration. That is the movement of millions of African Americans predominantly from the rural southern states to the urban north and midwest between 1910-1970.

This temporary boom did not yield long-term progress for Trenton in the post-war period. During the 1950s, many of the city’s largest industries began relocating outside the city limits and the economy did not adequately support its largest ever population of over 129,000 people.[6] In 1952, Trenton’s most popular employer Roebling’s Sons was sold to Colorado Fuel and Iron Company which over the next decade cut its employment numbers in Trenton and relocated its major manufacturing and business centers outside the city limits. This was the fate for many of the most popular industries within the city which sold their shares to larger corporations after WWII, leaving the fate of the city’s economy in the hands of interests which had little to no connection to it. The rubber, steel, iron, and pottery industries which had defined the city of Trenton and produced its “golden age” became shadows of their former selves and the physical conditions of the city reflected this change. Overtime, thousands of industrial jobs were lost and the population of Trenton dropped 13,382 people from 1950 to 1960 and an additional 9,381 people the following decade.[7] Population decline continued to the year 2000 and stabilized between 80,000 to 90,000 in the 21st century. 

This study seeks to answer two fundamental questions: 1) What were the major effects of deindustrialization on Trenton, NJ in the decades immediately following WWIII? 2) How were these effects felt by the people living within the city at this time? In answering these questions, this study will provide a lens through which race and class come to the forefront of the discussion. Trenton’s decline overlaps with the migration of thousands of African Americans to the city in search of economic opportunities. This demographic shift was the largest in the city’s history and was not met with opportunity but rather inequality and increased racial tension. The major effects of deindustrialization on Trenton, NJ in the post-war period were economic destabilization, movement to the suburbs, and increased racial tensions between white and black Trentonians. Each subsection of this work will dive into these effects individually as well as their overall impact on life in Trenton. It is important to recognize that this movement away from manufacturing and its effects were not phenomena restricted to certain areas or regions. Rather it was a national trend which all rust belt cities like Trenton grappled with in the 21st century. In addition to deindustrialization broadly,  the age of mechanized labor, the shifting of the U.S. economy towards greater support for large corporations, and the social movements of the 1960s all played extremely important roles in shaping American cities in the post-war era.

Secondary source literature on the decline of U.S. cities in the post-WWII period falls into the fields of American urban, economic, and social history. One of the most popular works on these subjects is historian Thomas J. Sugrue’s The Origins of the Urban Crisis: Race and Inequality in Postwar Detroit, which examines the many ways in which American cities began to decline following WWII with specific focus on racial inequality and division. In his work, Sugrue states that Trenton, like Detroit and other rust belt cities of the time, experienced hundreds of thousands of layoffs in manufacturing jobs nationwide due to the changing state of the U.S. economy and the lack of government spending allocated towards Northern cities.[8] These conditions radically transformed urban environments into almost unrecognizable versions of their industrial heights. Sugrue explores the connections between suburbanization, demographic change, and the racial attitudes of northern whites to produce an all-encompassing case study of the decline of Detroit. At the heart of his argument is that racial segregation and inadequate political responses to signs of crisis determined the fate of the city. The importance of this historical research cannot be overstated. Before this book was originally published in 1996, the stories of Detroit and other American cities who suffered from the consequences of deindustrialization and racial division in the post-war period were largely untold. The Origins of Urban Crisis continues to be one of the most influential modern studies of American urban history and is without doubt one of the most cited pieces of literature in the field.

Jefferson Cowie and Joseph Heathcott, who together produced Beyond the Ruins: The Meanings of Deindustrialization,built on the historical research of Sugrue by studying the impact of post-war deindustrialization across the nation. This book seeks to progress the conversation of historic decline to modern solutions for urban decay and economic instability. In doing so, it compiles a collection of essays from historians and other professionals to further explore deindustrialization and its impact on American cities.[9] From this perspective, the authors identify a complexity of causes and effects of urban decline which vary from city to city but share many similarities nationally. The value of this work is in its wide-scope. By compiling essays from multiple professionals in a variety of related disciplines, the image of declining cities in the U.S. following WWII becomes more clear than ever.

The most recognized work on post-war deindustrialization in specifically Trenton, New Jersey lies within historian John T. Cumbler’s A Social History of Economic Decline: Business, Politics, and Work in Trenton. This book outlines a long trajectory of economic conditions in Trenton beginning in the 1920s with focus on the Great Depression and researches the changing nature of the city up until the book’s publishing in 1989. One of Cumbler’s main arguments includes the notion that America experienced a gradual economic shift from civic to national capitalism following the Great Depression which empowered large corporations while simultaneously destroying the small businesses which held many industrial cities together.[10] He also explores the rich history of the city’s most impactful industries, politicians, union leaders, and manufacturing workers to provide a comprehensive view of Trenton’s economic and social decline. This work provides the foundation of historical knowledge on Trenton required to produce further research on this topic. However, Cumbler’s history of Trenton does not extend as far into the social consequences and effects of deindustrialization as one might expect. Nevertheless, virtually any modern historical literature on the city of Trenton cites this work. This points to the undying credibility of Cumbler as a historian and shows the importance and relevance of his arguments to the continued study of the city’s history.

More recent historical literature on related topics has largely focused on national trends of suburbanization and racial conflict. One such journal article titled “The Rural Past-in-Present and Postwar Suburban Progress” by University of Waterloo professor Stacy Denton studies the shift towards suburbanization following WWII. The author highlights the transformation of previously rural spaces to suburban landscapes and the implications of such transformations on national attitudes and beliefs towards race, culture, and class.[11] In a similar light, economic historian Leah Platt Bouston’s 2007 work “Black Migration, White Flight: The Effect of Black Migration on Northern Cities and Labor Markets” studies the effects of The Great Migration on northern cities and their economies. She also dives into the racist attitudes of northern whites which manifested themselves in movements out of increasingly diversifying cities and into the surrounding suburbs as part of a process termed “white flight.”[12] Both these works of history are incredibly valuable to this study of post-war Trenton for the topics and findings of their research are amongst the greatest effects of deindustrialization on the city.

The research done in this paper will synthesize the secondary source material on the decline of U.S. cities and apply their findings to a specific case study of Trenton, New Jersey. In doing so, it will paint a clearer picture of the more immediate social and economic effects of deindustrialization on the city in the decades following WWII. This will add to the historiography of urban history and Trenton historical study by compiling primary and secondary source documents to more deeply understand the major effects of deindustrialization and economic transformation on the city.  These major effects include economic destabilization, massive suburbanization, and increased racial tension. These symptoms of deindustrialization were felt most harshly by the city’s poor ethnic-white and growing black population. More specifically, economic decline in Trenton coincided with the arrival of black migrants which compounded racist attitudes and practices within the city. This is most clear in workplace and housing segregation which new migrants had to face upon their arrival.

Industry leaving Trenton following WWII radically changed the city’s local economy. Unionized factory jobs became harder to attain, poor residents were left with fewer options, and Trenton’s growing black community was segregated in their employment. Long-time union workers like those who worked in the pottery and steel plants found themselves in an unfamiliar situation. As Cumbler explained, “Those workers thrown out of work by plant closings had the hardest time finding work and represented the largest number of Trenton’s unemployed.”[13]

The selling of corporations like Roebling’s Sons produced a much weaker focus on the city’s manufacturing growth and output and instead, large corporations sought for the relocation of facilities and workers to outside the city. This left the existing workforce in the city out to dry and decreased options for employment, especially among the lower-income white and minority black populations.

 One action taken by the state and local government to fill this gap created by fleeing industry was growth in the employment of state workers and other public jobs. New Jersey state workers were in the 1950s and 60s, as they still are in the present day, centralized in the capital city of Trenton. Cumbler described this shift from manufacturing to public work as, “Blue Collar to White Collar and White Smock.”[14] This provided some relief to the city’s unemployment problem which exceeded the national average through the 1950s and 60s but it did not come close to meeting the pay and benefit standards that manufacturing jobs had produced just a decade prior. Additionally, the large majority of state workers employed at this time were disproportionately white men. Despite these changes, public and state employment was not enough to lift the city out of its economic slump nor its inherent issues with workplace discrimination.

A large part of the story of economic destabilization in Trenton as a product of deindustrialization was the negative consequences on its black community. Former Trentonian and author Helen Lee Jackson published her autobiography in 1978 charting her experience with racial discrimination as a black woman seeking meaningful employment in the city. Her description of Trenton reads as follows:

In 1940, Trenton was an industrial city with many potteries. Steel mills, factories, and a large auto plant, but the production lines were almost solidly white. Black men swept the floors, moved heavy equipment and shipping crates, and performed other burdensome tasks. In the business sections, they were almost invisible except as window cleaners, janitors, or elevator operators. There were no black salespeople in the stores, banks, or business offices. They were hired as maids, package wrappers, or seamstress. Even the five-and-ten-cent stores refused to hire blacks, except to sweep, dust, or move stock.[15]

Jackson’s firsthand experience with racial segregation and inequality in the city in the 1940s is a reflection of the racial attitudes and prejudices in Trenton and other northern cities earlier in the 20th century. Racist attitudes towards black migrants who largely came from the south was a characteristic of many industrial cities in the U.S. at this time as is highlighted in Sugrue’s work on Detroit and other rust belt cities. With greater numbers of black migrants entering northern cities, the problem of racial discrimination and inequality intensified and the competition for jobs in short supply fuel racist attitudes. According to Sugrue, a combination of factors including employer bias, the structure of the industrial work place, and the overarching ideologies and beliefs of racism and black inferiority contributed to this workplace segregation.[16] For Trenton, these differences in employment were visible to the observer and significantly impacted the lives of those seeking stable income. With the collapse of industry happening simultaneously with a dramatic increase in the city’s black population, this problem compounded. Black residents were not only excluded from whatever factory jobs were left on the basis of their race but they were also labeled as the source of the city’s problems altogether.

In a 1953 study of community services in Trenton, researchers found that the average black resident experienced twice as much unemployment and earned on average 30% less total income than the average white person at this time despite only a one year difference in their average acquired education.[17] These statistics are proof of income inequality and workplace discrimination and provide insight into the lived experiences of black people in Trenton at this time. Furthermore, research from The Journal of Economic History, suggests “black workers were channeled into negro jobs and faced limited opportunities for promotion.”[18] Access to financial resources and meaningful employment were among the largest reasons for black migration to Trenton and other northern cities. Upon their arrival however, they were met with egregious workplace discrimination and were given very little opportunities to climb the economic ladder. Black women specifically made up, “The least utilized pool of potential industrial labor power having much less than proportionate representation with her white counterpart” according to a 1950s study titled, The Negro in the Trenton Labor Market.[19] Many black women, including Helen Lee Jackson, struggled even more so than black men to find employment within the city. These conditions forced economically disadvantaged men and women alike to scramble for jobs and income in order to support themselves and their families.

Changes to the manufacturing economy and workplace discrimination created great instability in Trenton during the 1950s and 60s. Old union workers were suddenly left jobless and the fruits of their loyal labor to the city’s largest industries were now gone. Attempts to revitalize the economy largely failed and economic decline impacted the poor and minority black population of the city more harshly than anyone else in the form of unequal pay and limited job opportunities. With this knowledge, it becomes clear that deindustrialization and the exodus of industry destroyed the economy of Trenton that was historically forged by large-scale manufacturing and robust labor unions and disproportionately affected the new and growing black community.

Another major consequence of postwar deindustrialization on America’s rustbelt cities was the creation of and migration to the suburbs. Suburbs are the areas where urban centers like Trenton, NJ extend into previously rural environments where new housing developments, industries, and townships began to populate with greater and greater numbers of prior city-dwelling individuals. Historian Kenneth T. Jackson’s work on suburbanization titled,

Crabgrass Frontier: The Suburbanization of the United States,  provides the best historical analysis of this phenomenon which swept the nation in the 20th century. Among many important factors, he claims that the roots of suburbanization can be traced to the boom of the automobile industry in the 1920s which enabled those who could afford it to move further and further away from the cities in which they worked. Jackson states, “Indeed the automobile had a greater spatial and social impact on cities than any technological innovation since the development of the wheel” He goes further to explain, “After 1920 suburbanization began to acquire a new character as residential developments multiplied, as cities expanded far beyond their old boundaries, and as the old distinctions between city and country began to erode.”[20]

For Trenton NJ, this shift towards the suburbs was gradual beginning in the 1920s and peaking during the 1950s. It is important to note that suburbanization in Trenton and in cities across the nation happened gradually into the late 20th century. This coincided with a decline in major industries and jobs. Historical research on suburbanization has also revealed that many of these white suburbanites moved to the suburbs to create a physical barrier between them and their racial counterparts.[21] As a result of these factors, thousands of residents with the financial freedom to do so began expanding into the towns on the periphery like Hamilton, Ewing, and Lawrence. Many of whom continued to work as state workers or in other capacities inside Trenton while living outside the city. These towns saw unprecedented growth in the post-WWII years in housing developments thanks to VA and FHA loans which were granted to veterans of the war as part of president Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s New Deal Reforms.[22] It is important to note that these New Deal programs were especially beneficial to white service members and much historical literature has been written about the exclusionary practices associated with housing loans in relation to African Americans. This is relevant because during and shortly after WWII, the largest wave of black migrants traveled from predominantly southern states to Trenton and other northern cities in search of employment opportunities associated with the mobilization of industry towards the war effort. This search for opportunity overlapped with the decay of Trenton’s largest industries, leaving many black migrants below the poverty line, working menial jobs as opposed to fruitful unionized jobs, and in some cases, out of work completely. Compounding these issues was the inaccessibility of reasonable home loans for members of the black community.

The effects of suburbanization on the local economy of Trenton and its inhabitants can be seen through analysis of the popular media. Pride Magazine was a Trenton-based publication which centered its content around black businesses and black business owners. This specific magazine concerned itself with the failure of local politicians to enact positive change in the form of urban renewal plans which were targeted at improving the infrastructure, housing, and employment opportunities within the city. In March of 1972, Pride Magazine issued a publication titled, “Black Businesses Need Your Help!” which featured a section written by the magazine’s publisher Vance Phillips, who received his college education in Trenton. He wrote, “What are we doing to fill the vacuum of the cities which was created by relocation of the established business” He then goes on to say, “After spending 5 years of planning and developing new programs for structural and economic changes, Trenton Model Cities program has failed to meet the potential growth of new and old businesses in our community.”[23] Phillips like many black Americans living in Trenton during the 1970s saw visible signs of the city’s decline through the failure of local businesses. He believed what was needed to fix this problem was a stronger government response along with increased civic action from specifically the black community.[24]

 In this same publication, Phillips expressed his belief that, “a person who lives within the city should have preference over persons living outside of the cities in terms of employment.”[25] Here the author is addressing those who live in the surrounding suburbs but continue to fill job positions within the city limits. This would have been a popular message to Trenton’s black business owning population due to the negative effects that rapid suburbanization had on small businesses within the city.  In this magazine article, Phillips touches on an number of topics which are extremely relevant to this study. For one, the instability of small businesses in the wake of mass-suburbanization which he observed was largely due to the relocation of both industry and people to outside the city. Mostly ethnically-white Trentonians were leaving the city for the suburbs and taking with them their spending power. With population decline being spearheaded by movements to the suburbs, there simply was not enough money being circulated throughout the city to adequately support the small businesses which propped up its local economy.

Another popular message within this passage highlights that with most of Trenton’s workforce shifting into the surrounding suburbs, so too did its voting power.[26] This left black communities who resided within the urban centers even more powerless as a minority to change their own political environment. Suburbanization brought with it a massive decrease to the city’s population and tax-base. The previously 100,000+ populated city now had just around 80,000 inhabitants by 1970.[27] This rapid population decrease meant that the tax revenue generated was not enough to effectively grapple with the issues facing the economy and the evolving workforce.

Furthermore, local culture within the city which had been forged by America’s largest waves of European immigration in the 19th and early 20th century suffered as a result of deindustrialization and suburbanization. Many of the small businesses and social institutions which had historically characterized the city of Trenton were established by first and second generation Italian, Irish, Polish, and Hungarian immigrants. Many of whom traveled from the larger cities of New York and Philadelphia to find industrial jobs in Trenton. Dennis J. Starr’s book, The Italians of New Jersey, outlines the effects of suburbanization on the “old immigrants” of New Jersey, stating:

The movement to the suburbs and smaller urban places paralleled a major transformation of the state’s urban political economy. Following the war, the state’s largest cities did not participate in the postwar prosperity and economic development. Instead, their industrial bases eroded, their mercantile bases moved to suburban shopping malls and their overall, especially affluent white, populations shrank.[28]

The effect of suburbanization on the local culture of Trenton’s longest serving residents is a source of some historical debate. Cumbler notes that, “Despite suburbanization of the more successful Italians and Slavs, many of Trenton’s ethnic neighborhoods seemed as entrenched as ever in the 1950s.”[29] However, the following decades of the 1950s would see even more of Trenton’s staple “old immigrant” communities relocating to the suburbs and with them their cultural values and traditions. That being said, the cultural diversity of Trenton, New Jersey created by its ethnic melting pot of a history can still be felt today in 2023. Walking the streets of some of its most popular neighborhoods like Chambersburg, one can still see and feel the Italian influence of churches, social clubs, and bar-restaurants in the area. The main point here is that culture did suffer as a result of suburbanization and population decline, but it did not die, it rather faded into a less obvious and less present version of its former self.

            Looking at suburbanization as a major effect of postwar de-industrialization on the city of Trenton provides valuable insight into the cities rise and decline as a manufacturing powerhouse. Like many other rust belt cities of this time period, the trend of suburbanization caused unprecedented changes to the city’s local economy and demographics. The loss of unionized industry jobs encouraged many Trentonians to relocate to the surrounding towns which had recently seen great increases in housing development. In the process, those who left the city unintendedly left Trenton out to dry. Money from the pockets of those who moved to the suburbs was desperately needed to support small businesses in the city and their tax dollars could have been used to make meaningful change to the city’s failing infrastructure. As previously discussed, the local culture of the city also suffered as a result of these consequences which only compounded with each decade of further suburbanization and relocation away from the city. With a decreasing population, aging workforce, and a new wave of migrants without sufficient employment opportunities, the city began to decline into an unrecognizable version of its “Golden Age” of the 1920s.

Trenton’s deindustrialization and its history of racism and inequality are inextricably linked. In 1986, Historian Dennis J. Starr published, History of Ethnic and Racial Groups in Trenton, New Jersey: 1900 – 1960, which acts as one of the foremost important pieces of historical literature on Trenton race-relations. This research clearly establishes a link between deindustrialization and increased racial tensions by claiming:

As industries closed down or reduced their work force it became harder for Afro-American migrants to get a toe hold on the traditional ladder of social mobility–a factory job. Meanwhile the city’s sizable Italian, Polish and Hungarian communities became fearful lest their jobs be eliminated, their neighborhoods integrated. A siege mentality developed in light of the population shifts and exodus of industries, commercial businesses, colleges and government offices.[30]

This “siege mentality” was amplified overtime with the overcrowding of black communities in Trenton and the extension of black-owned or rented residences into shrinking ethnically white neighborhoods.

Between 1950 and 1960, Trenton’s black population rose to 22.8 percent of the total population. As discussed earlier, Trenton was a historically segregated city but in the 1950s and 60s this racial division took on a whole new light given the increases in population and decreases in economic opportunities and industry.[31] Trenton historian Jack Washington described Trenton following WWII stating, “That the 1950s was a period of benign neglect for the Black community is an understatement, for Black people were forgotten while their economic and political troubles continued to mount.”[32] These economic troubles can be seen most clearly through examination of housing segregation in the city and its continued influence on the lives of Trentonians. Along with housing and workplace discrimination, ethnically white residents used black migrants as scapegoats for their city’s economic misfortunes and decline.

            Housing in Trenton, NJ after the postwar years can be characterized as both segregated and worse for wear. Following the largest influx of black immigrants to the city in the late 1940s and early 50s, this new population was largely forced to live in the Coalport and Five Points areas of the city on its interior.[33] Housing opportunities for black residents were few and far between and were in most cases aged and deteriorated. Starr shed light on this inequality revealing, “By 1957 over 80 per cent of the city’s housing was over 50 years old and 20 percent of all housing units were dilapidated or had deficient plumbing.”[34] This was a problem for all city-dwellers and stood as a marker of the city’s decline following deindustrialization. For the black community, this problem was especially real given that the neighborhoods with the worst physical damage and infrastructure were those areas in which they settled. A 1950s survey of the city titled, Negro Housing in Trenton found, “the percentage of substandard housing among the Negro population is four times higher than that for the general population.”[35] Not only were black Trentonians limited in their occupation but also in the location and quality of their housing. This same study of housing in Trenton concluded that 1,200 new residential spaces would have to be erected in order to meet the needs and standards of the city. These spaces were not created and public housing efforts did not meet the requirements of the new growing population.[36]

With little options for housing, a lack of policy action to create new housing, and increases to the population, black migrants had no choice but to expand into Trenton’s old ethnically-white neighborhoods. In the eyes of many in the white majority, black migrants were the corrupting force which acted to take down their beloved city. Declining social and economic conditions in the city paired with old racist tendencies to produce conflict between ethnic groups. Cumbler eloquently explains this clash stating:

The decline of their industrial base narrowed the boundaries of choice for both white and black Trentonians, and in doing so it intensified conflict between them. Increasingly, Trenton’s problems became defined by the city’s white residents in terms of growth of its black population. Actually, its problems had other sources: the loss of its tax base with the closing down of factories, dilapidation of the existing housing stock, and the declining income of its citizens of whatever color.[37]

This excerpt captures the situation in Trenton during the 1950s and 60s in terms of race relations and the overall decline of the city. Racist attitudes were not a new trend in Trenton but were compounded with the arrival of large populations of black migrants. From the white perspective, black migrants were aiding in the destruction of the city. From the black perspective, Trenton did not provide the necessary resources for which they traveled north in search of in the first place.

The 1960s and the Civil Rights era was the historical boiling point for racial tensions and division in Trenton. The influence of the NAACP and other organizations for the advancement of racial equality along with intense riots brought race and class to the forefront of Trenton’s post-industrial issues. Most impactful, Trenton race riots following the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. exploded in early April of 1968. These riots lasted for multiple days and resulted in fires erupting around the city as well as over 7 million dollars in damage to over 200 different businesses in Trenton at the time. During the chaos, around 300 mostly young black men were arrested by Trenton Police. The devastating damage to the downtown section of the city caused many to flee and abandon it altogether in the years that followed.[38] It would be unfair to say that these riots were a direct result of deindustrialization in postwar Trenton. However, the city’s history of racial inequality and the compounding forces of racial tension as a result of deindustrialization point to the creation of fertile ground for public outrage. Of course, the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. served as the catalyst for race riots in the city but the broader history of discrimination and inequality in Trenton suggests an intense decades-long build up to the events that unfolded in April of 1968.

Trenton’s rise and fall as an American industrial city is truly a fascinating case study of the post-war era in U.S. history. What was once a manufacturing powerhouse along the Delaware River strategically placed between the two large cities of New York and Philadelphia was reduced to a shadow of its former glory by the 1950s and 60s. The causes of this decline can be found in the removal of industry away from the city following the war effort and signs of economic decline can be traced as far back as the 1920s. The effects of this shift however, remain the most significant in the broader history of the city. Rapid deindustrialization meant that wages and opportunities were significantly limited for all Trentonians but especially for its segregated black community. Many of those who could afford it elected to move to the surrounding suburbs, bringing with them their tax dollars, their votes, and their culture. Lastly, deindustrialization and the consequences of a radically transformed Trenton increased racial tensions in the form of housing and workplace discrimination.

These effects offer new insights into the Trenton of today. Trenton now has a black majority and interestingly, those same areas which housed black migrants in the 1950s on the city’s interior are still today in 2023 the site of high unemployment and low opportunities. Walking the streets of Trenton, one is quickly reminded of its rich history with many of its houses and abandoned factories still standing today as a reminder of the city’s complicated history. A hopeful message could be that a greater understanding of Trenton’s post-war history could provide the necessary insight to create better living conditions and opportunities for all its residents. However, today Trenton remains a city in an intense state of recovery from its industrial past. Historical research has been done to show that urban renewal plans have largely failed to revitalize the city’s economy in the 20th and 21st centuries and issues such as crime, poverty, drug abuse, poor infrastructure, among others continue to loom over the once prosperous city.

            Today, the “Trenton Makes, The World Takes” sign on the Lower Trenton Bridge still stands bright but its meaning has drastically changed since the last century. What was once a beacon of promise and stability is now a constant reminder of how far the city has fallen from its industrial and manufacturing heights.

Upon completing this research paper on Trenton, I gave a lesson to high school world history students at Ewing High school as part of my undergraduate co-teaching field work. Ewing is one of the border towns to the city of Trenton and was one of the most popular destinations for suburbanites who left the city in the 20th century at least in part because of deindustrialization and the city’s overall decline. The proximity of the topic and the familiarity students  had with popular street names, businesses, and buildings in the city created a feeling of relevance that sparked engagement. Students were surprised to be learning about a topic so close to home and they responded with passionate discussion and the creation of meaningful connections which were sparked through a mix of group and whole class discussions.

For social studies teachers, this successful shift from world history topics to a more grass roots approach to teaching local history can be used as a template for future lessons. Topics frequently come up during different units throughout the school year which deeply relate to the local history of wherever kids go to school. For Ewing students, Trenton’s decline as an industrial city directly related to their lived experiences. Many of my students had lived in or around Trenton for most of their lives. This practice of teaching local history to students is not overwhelming nor is it undoable. The same amount of effort it takes to create a lesson in a world history or AP class can be channeled into research dealing with one’s own local environment and history.

This template for teaching local history can be used to generate engagement in the classroom which is unique to any other topic. Once students are given the opportunity to learn and ask questions about their own town, city, home, etc. they begin to view the world through a more historical lens which is the goal of many if not all high school social studies teachers. Overall, my experience with this approach was overwhelmingly positive and I encourage any and all educators to shift their focus for at least one day of the year towards exploring their own local history and connecting it to larger themes within our discipline.

Black Businesses Need Your Help!. Pride Magazine. Trenton Public Library. March 1972. https://www.trentonlib.org/trentoniana/microfilm-newspapers/

Dwyer, William. This Is The Task. Findings of the Trenton, New Jersey Human Relations Self-Survey (Nashville: Fisk University, 1955).

Lee, Helen J. Nigger in the Window. Library of Congress, Internet Archive 1978.

Negro Housing in Trenton: The Housing Committee of the Self Survey. Trenton Public Library. Trentoniana Collection. Ca 1950.

“Negro in the Trenton Labor Market,” Folder: Community Services in Trenton, Box: Trenton Council on Human Relations, Trentoniana Collection, Trenton Public Library.

“Study of Community Services in Trenton,” Folder: Community Services in Trenton, Box: Trenton Council on Human Relations, Trentoniana Collection, Trenton Public Library.

Trenton Council of Social Agencies, Study of Northeast Trenton: Population, Housing, Economic, Social and Physical Aspects of the Area. Folder: Study of Northeast Trenton. Box 1: African American Experience. Trentoniana Collection. Trenton Public Library. 1958.

Boustan, Leah Platt. “Black Migration, White Flight: The Effect of Black Migration on Northern Cities and Labor Markets.” The Journal of Economic History 67, no. 2 (2007): 484–88. http://www.jstor.org/stable/4501161.

Cowie, J. & Heathcott, J. Beyond the Ruins: The Meaning of Deindustrialization. Cornell University Press, 2003.

Cumbler, John T. A Social History of Economic Decline: Business, Politics, and Work in Trenton (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1989).

Denton, Stacy. “The Rural Past-in-Present and Postwar Sub/Urban Progress.” American Studies 53, no. 2 (2014): 119–40. http://www.jstor.org/stable/24589591.

Division of Labor Market and Demographic Research. New Jersey Population Trends 1790 to 2000 (Trenton, NJ: New Jersey State Data Center, August 2001).

Gibson, Campbell. U.S. Bureau of the Census: Population of the 100 Largest Cities and Other Urban Places in the United States: 1790 – 1990, (Washington D.C.: U.S. Bureau of the Census, 1998).

Jackson, Kenneth T. Crabgrass Frontier: The Suburbanization of the United States. Oxford University Press, 1985.

Leynes, Jennifer B. “Three Centuries of African-American History in Trenton.” Trentoniana Collection. Trenton Historical Society. 2011.

Starr, Dennis J. “History of Ethnic and Racial Groups in Trenton, New Jersey, 1900-1960,” Trentoniana Collection. 1986.

Starr, Dennis J. The Italians of New Jersey: A Historical Introduction and Bibliography. New Jersey Historical Society. Newark, NJ. 1985.

Strangleman, Tim, James Rhodes, and Sherry Linkon. “Introduction to Crumbling Cultures: Deindustrialization, Class, and Memory.” International Labor and Working-Class History, no. 84 (2013): 7–22. http://www.jstor.org/stable/43302724.

Sugrue, Thomas J. The Origins of the Urban Crisis: Race and Inequality in Postwar Detroit. (Revised Ed.). Princeton University Press, 2005. Originally published 1996.

Washington, Jack. The Quest for Equality: Trenton’s Black Community 1890-1965. Africa World Press. 1993.


[1] Jack Washington, The Quest for Equality: Trenton’s Black Community 1890-1965, Africa World Press, 1993, 56.

[2] John T. Cumbler, A Social History of Economic Decline: Business, Politics, and Work in Trenton, (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1989), 9.

[3] Division of Labor Market and Demographic Research, New Jersey Population Trends 1790 to 2000 (Trenton, NJ: New Jersey State Data Center, August 2001), 23.

[4] Tim Strangleman, James Rhodes, and Sherry Linkon, “Introduction to Crumbling Cultures: Deindustrialization, Class, and Memory.” International Labor and Working-Class History, no. 84 (2013), 19.

[5] Cumbler, A Social History, 132-133.

[6] Campbell Gibson, U.S. Bureau of the Census: Population of the 100 Largest Cities and Other Urban Places in the United States: 1790 – 1990, (Washington D.C.: U.S. Bureau of the Census, 1998)

[7] Division of Labor, New Jersey Population Trends, 26.

[8] Thomas J. Sugrue, The Origins of the Urban Crisis: Race and Inequality in Postwar Detroit, (Revised Ed.), Princeton University Press, 2005, Originally published 1996, 128.

[9] Jefferson, Cowie & Joseph Heathcott, Beyond the Ruins: The Meaning of Deindustrialization, Cornell University Press, 2003. 1-3.

[10] Cumbler, A Social History, 93-95.

[11]Stacy Denton, “The Rural Past-in-Present and Postwar Sub/Urban Progress,” American Studies 53, no. 2 (2014): 119.

[12]Leah P. Boustan, “Black Migration, White Flight: The Effect of Black Migration on Northern Cities and Labor Markets.” The Journal of Economic History 67, no. 2 (2007): 484-485.

[13] Cumbler, A Social History, 147-148.

[14] Cumbler, A Social History, 145.

[15] Helen J. Lee, N—-r in the Window, Library of Congress, Internet Archive 1978, 131.

[16] Sugrue, Urban Crisis, 93-94.

[17] “Study of Community Services in Trenton,” Folder: Community Services in Trenton, Box: Trenton Council on Human Relations, Trentoniana Collection, Trenton Public Library, 8.

[18] Leah P. Boustan, “Black Migration, White Flight” 485-486.

[19] “Negro in the Trenton Labor Market,” Folder: Community Services in Trenton, Box: Trenton Council on Human Relations, Trentoniana Collection, Trenton Public Library, 33-34.

[20] Kenneth T. Jackson. Crabgrass Frontier: The Suburbanization of the United States, Oxford University Press, 1985, 188.

[21] Stacy Denton, “The Rural Past-in-Present,” 119.

[22] Cumbler, A Social History, 139.

[23] Black Businesses Need Your Help!. Pride Magazine. Trenton Public Library. March 1972, 5

[24] Black Businesses, Pride Magazine, 6

[25] Black Businesses, Pride Magazine, 6-7

[26] Black Businesses, Pride Magazine, 6-7.

[27] Gibson, U.S. Bureau of the Census, 43.

[28] Dennis J. Starr, The Italians of New Jersey: A Historical Introduction and Bibliography, New Jersey Historical Society, Newark, NJ 1985, 54.

[29] Cumbler, A Social History, 148-150.

[30] Dennis J. Starr, “History of Ethnic and Racial Groups in Trenton, New Jersey, 1900-1960,” Trentoniana Collection, 1986, 16-17.

[31] Cumbler, A Social History, 153.

[32] Washington, The Quest for Equality, 136.

[33] Trenton Council of Social Agencies, Study of Northeast Trenton: Population, Housing, Economic, Social and Physical Aspects of the Area, Folder: Study of Northeast Trenton, Box 1: African American Experience, Trentoniana Collection, Trenton Public Library, 1958, 53-54.

[34] Starr, Ethnic and Racial Groups in Trenton, 15.

[35] Negro Housing in Trenton: The Housing Committee of the Self Survey, Trenton Public Library, Trentoniana Collection, ca 1950s , 63.

[36] Negro Housing, Housing Committee, 67.

[37] Cumbler, A Social History, 156.

[38] Jennifer B. Leynes, “Three Centuries of African-American History in Trenton,” Trentoniana Collection, Trenton Historical Society. 2011, 3-4.


Forgotten Trails: Unmasking the Legacy of Native American Removal and its Contemporary Implications

Once, in the vast and untamed lands of what is now known as the United States, there thrived a multitude of Native American communities. These diverse and vibrant nations had cultivated rich cultures, deep-rooted traditions, and an intricate understanding of their surroundings. However, as the 19th century unfolded, a dark cloud loomed over these indigenous peoples. In the late 19th century, following a series of conflicts and broken treaties, Native American communities faced forced complete removal from their ancestral lands. The government policies aimed at assimilation and expansion systematically uprooted these communities, displacing them from their homes and severing their ties to their traditions and in 1890, a turning point occurred in Native American history with the forced removal of their communities from their ancestral lands. This displacement was not merely an isolated event but rather part of a broader pattern of marginalization that had persisted for centuries and continues to persist. Yet, despite its undeniable significance, this chapter of American history has largely been forgotten or intentionally overlooked.

The historical marginalization and lack of mainstream attention to the forced removal of Native American communities in U.S. history after 1890 has had profound effects on their social, economic, and political development in contemporary society. This study aims to explore how this neglect and amnesia surrounding the forced removals have contributed to ongoing disparities, underrepresentation, and challenges faced by Native Americans. By relegating this significant chapter of American history to obscurity, society unintentionally perpetuates the cycle of neglect and underrepresentation experienced by Native Americans. The absence of acknowledgment and understanding of the removal policies and their consequences has hindered the recognition of indigenous rights, cultural contributions, and the unique challenges faced by these communities. This research seeks to shed light on this historical oversight and highlight its implications for present-day disparities within Native American communities. By recognizing the impact of historical marginalization, it becomes possible to address current challenges effectively and foster development within these marginalized communities. Through an exploration of relevant literature, primary sources, and historiography, this research will provide a comprehensive understanding of how historical amnesia has shaped the experiences of Native Americans today. By uncovering the underlying causes of ongoing disparities, underrepresentation, and challenges they face, this study aims to contribute to broader efforts towards achieving equity and justice for Native American populations.

The study of the removal of Native Americans after 1890 has long been approached from various perspectives, often reflecting prevailing societal attitudes and biases. Traditional approaches to this topic have tended to focus on a few main ideas namely the notion that Native Americans desired urbanization and the belief that non-Native Americans were providing assistance in their transition. One common argument put forth by traditional studies is that Native Americans willingly sought relocation to urban areas. Proponents of this perspective suggest that indigenous communities recognized the benefits of modernity and sought opportunities for economic advancement through urbanization
        Another idea frequently emphasized in traditional approaches is the assumption that Native Americans were uneducated or culturally deficient compared to non-Native Americans. This perspective suggests that native cultures were inherently inferior and needed intervention from more advanced societies to progress. Consequently, it portrays non-Native American efforts as benevolent attempts to elevate indigenous populations through education, religious conversion, and exposure to Western technologies. In these traditional interpretations, non-Native American involvement was often depicted as an act of assistance rather than forced displacement. Advocates argue that government policies such as the Dawes Act of 1887 aimed at breaking up tribal landholdings into individual allotments were well-intentioned steps toward promoting private property ownership among Native Americans. Similarly, boarding schools designed to eradicate indigenous languages and cultural practices were presented as educational endeavors meant to “civilize” Native American children.

Lastly, the final common approach seen with the study of Native Americans on a broader scale is that Native American history stopped after 1890. Traditional approaches to the study of Native Americans have often treated Native American history as if it came to a standstill after the infamous Wounded Knee Massacre in 1890, perpetuating a skewed and incomplete narrative. This historical tunnel vision neglects the rich and complex tapestry of Native American experiences and contributions beyond that point. It wrongly reinforces the notion that Native Americans exist solely in a historical context, overlooking their vibrant and evolving cultures, traditions, and communities. This approach inadvertently marginalizes contemporary Native voices and their ongoing struggles, creating an inaccurate portrayal of their identity and relevance in modern America.

Overall, the approaches described, in addition to the obvious are problematic because they contribute to historical amnesia surrounding the removal of Native Americans by perpetuating a narrative that downplays the systemic injustices and challenges faced by Native communities during the process of urbanization and relocation. These traditional approaches tend to obscure the agency and resistance of Native Americans, portraying them as passive actors who willingly embraced modernity and external intervention. By emphasizing the supposed benefits of urbanization and the alleged cultural deficiencies of Native cultures, these narratives silence the historical reality of forced displacement, loss of land, and the violation of treaties. They fail to acknowledge the broader context of Native American history, including their resilience and efforts to preserve their cultures in the face of relocation and its effects.

With all of these mentioned ideas in mind imagine having your land taken away, your culture suppressed, and your way of life disrupted. This is the harsh reality that Native Americans faced following the tumultuous period of removal and relocation, particularly after 1890. As the dust settled on a nation rapidly expanding westward, it became increasingly clear that indigenous communities were bearing the brunt of this progress. Following this period marked by forced removals and relocations, these indigenous peoples found themselves grappling with an array of disparities that continued to persist long after their displacement. To begin this study, we will delve into the disparities experienced by Native Americans as a consequence of forced removal and relocation policies implemented during the late 19th century.

The late 19th century marked a pivotal period in the history of Native Americans in the United States, a time when government policies and actions began to create enduring disparities within indigenous communities. At the forefront of these policies was the Dawes Act of 1887, legislation with far-reaching consequences. With the aim of assimilating Native Americans into American society, the Dawes Act of 1887 symbolizes significant inequities and unjust policies imposed on them. This legislation had devastating consequences for indigenous groups by removing essential tribal lands necessary for survival, cultural practices, and economic stability under its allotment system. [1]As a result of inadequate inheritance in land resources, many families suffered from economic challenges leading to loss or dispossession over time. Furthermore, traditional languages and customs were interrupted through mandatory enrolment in boarding schools designed to wipe out native identities entirely. Furthermore, the act crippled governance structures within tribes creating complications when advocating their rights among native communities – currently manifesting itself today as disparities experienced daily by native Americans including poverty levels that remain high, lack quality healthcare access and education along with political under-representation all of which are core legacies felt as a result of the Dawes Act.

Continuing, the Dawes Act’s repercussions would later shape the 1950s’ relocation policies. One of its main outcomes was the relinquishment of valuable tribal lands, frequently transferred to non-Native settlers, limiting Native Americans’ entry into their traditional domains. This deprivation contributed significantly to various economic challenges faced by numerous indigenous communities for years afterward. As a result, decreased land ownership resulted in struggling tribal economies that made Native Americans susceptible and prone to hardships. The Dawes Act and the relocation policies in the 1950s both had assimilation as a central concept. The former sought to do so through land ownership while the latter aimed for urbanization, but their underlying goal was similar: making Native Americans conform to mainstream American society’s ideals. This reflected how federal authorities wanted to alter identities and lifestyles within Indigenous communities at that time. Basically, the Dawes Act set the stage for economic fragility and property deprivation which led to some policymakers finding urban relocation policies in the 1950s more desirable. The act’s effects of taking away land from Native Americans and interfering with their customary way of life established a foundation for inequalities and difficulties encountered by these communities. This ultimately made them easier targets for future initiatives focused on promoting urbanization or moving elsewhere during the 1950s.

Moving forward, in the 1950s, Native Americans were coerced into relocating to urban areas in order to achieve economic self-sufficiency and assimilate into mainstream society. Commissioned by Bureau of Indian Affairs commissioner Dillon S. Myer the relocation program was launched with the aim of relocating reservation-based Native Americans to urban environments, providing promises such as educational and occupational opportunities, transportation services, housing provisions and everyday necessities. Although this lured over thirty thousand participants; inadequate funding led to poor execution which left many re-locators facing inferior living conditions coupled with gender-segregated low-level jobs that eventually forced them back home. [2] Despite its shortcomings however it can’t be ignored that some relocated Native Americans thrived in cities securing upward socioeconomic mobility by being pro-active in the process of organizing and establishing themselves. As a result, these Native Americans were able to advocate for better livelihoods on reserves, but this was not a common happening. Ultimately, the 1950’s relocation policies failed to fulfill their objectives as many individuals lacked the necessary skills for city life due to emphasis on quantity over quality during recruitment. Consequently, they experienced racial discrimination and limited job opportunities while residing in low-income neighborhoods despite some meager benefits of relocation that favored those with initial job expertise. [3] This historic instance highlights disparities encountered by Native American communities through government policies that lacked adequate support which would eventually lead them towards developing pan-Indian social institutions amidst harsh living situations. These occurrences are consistent with the historical experiences of Native Americans within urban environments illustrating the overlooked complexities faced historically across the developmental stages of these regions.

Furthermore, after the failure of the relocation act and the increasing issues it caused in its attempt to force urbanization on to Native Americans the disparities they faced as result only increased. After the relocation act of the 1950’s, the 1960’s brought new hope to the Native Americans with the emergence of the Civil Rights movement. Despite the promises of social and political change during the Civil Rights era, Native American communities continued to face significant challenges. The termination policy, which aimed to assimilate Native Americans into mainstream society, led to the loss of tribal sovereignty and the dispossession of lands. This policy resulted in economic instability and the erosion of traditional cultural practices. Additionally, the forced relocation of many Native American families from reservations to urban areas disrupted their social fabric and often led to poverty and social marginalization. These challenges and the disparities faced by Native Americans would cease to end even as changes came about for other minority groups this is evident by the “Longest Walk” protest. In the 1970s, Native American activists staged a protest in Washington D.C. called the “Longest Walk,” which brought to light the longstanding disparities faced by their communities. These inequalities were largely impacted by governmental policies and legislation that threatened fundamental rights such as land ownership, access to water and fishing resources, treaty alteration or elimination of reservation systems. These protesters understood that these legal provisions weren’t just mere abstractions but intricately woven into cultural identity and economic sustenance for indigenous people’s survival.[4] Even though this was a peaceful demonstration it highlighted many unaddressed issues inherent with historical wrongdoings towards Indigenous peoples. This event serves as evidence of an ongoing struggle against oppression where multifaceted disparities continue to exist related not only within educational attainment gaps but also unequal healthcare opportunities due mainly because race-based discrimination persists even today. Additionally, the fact that such legislative proposals were considered as late as the 1970s emphasizes that even in modern times, Native Americans grapple with legislative threats that have the potential to perpetuate their marginalization, illustrating that these disparities remain relevant and pressing issues in the present day.

The disparities outlined in this section strongly demonstrate how the neglect and historical amnesia surrounding the forced removals have played a pivotal role in perpetuating the ongoing challenges faced by Native Americans. The Dawes Act of 1887 and the 1950s relocation policies, both driven by the goal of assimilation into mainstream American society, inflicted lasting damage on indigenous communities. These policies resulted in the loss of tribal lands, economic instability, cultural erosion, and social marginalization, creating a foundation of inequality that continues to shape Native American experiences. The subsequent civil rights era did not bring significant relief, as termination policies persisted, further undermining tribal sovereignty and land ownership. The “Longest Walk” protest of the 1970s highlighted the enduring disparities related to land, resources, and cultural identity that continue to plague Native communities. These historical injustices, neglected for so long, have left a lasting imprint, contributing to the disparities in education, healthcare, and political representation still experienced by Native Americans today, underscoring the argument that acknowledging and addressing this historical legacy is crucial to addressing these ongoing challenges.

Moving forward, in the previous section, we delved into the significant disparities that Native Americans experience across various domains, including healthcare, education, and socioeconomic status. However, it is important to recognize that these disparities are not isolated incidents but rather part of a larger pattern of underrepresentation faced by Native Americans in contemporary society. This section aims to shed light on this critical issue and explore how Native Americans continue to be marginalized and overlooked within systems that shape their lives. By examining the various aspects of underrepresentation, such as inadequate political representation, limited media visibility, and exclusion from decision-making processes, we can gain a comprehensive understanding of the multifaceted challenges faced by Native American communities today. Through an analysis of these underrepresented perspectives, we can contribute to ongoing efforts towards achieving greater equity and inclusivity for all individuals in our diverse society including the Native Americans.

To start off, the history of Native Americans has suffered from a consistent pattern of marginalization and misrepresentation in dominant societal narratives. This regrettable circumstance has resulted in many prevalent misunderstandings, misconceptions, and knowledge gaps when it comes to essential aspects related to the rich cultural heritage that defines each tribe’s unique traditions and experiences. Furthermore, this persistent systemic under-representation issue is not limited only to these crucial historical elements but also encompasses an immediate threat regarding indigenous languages’ endangered status along with their respective rituals or customary practices. Consequently, there exists a critical risk linked with the disappearing traditional elements integral towards forming Native identity amidst modern times – making preservation efforts necessary for combating culture erasure as well as safeguarding ancient customs vital toward uniquely defining those who still maintain them today. Additionally, it is important to acknowledge that the underrepresentation of Native Americans in modern discourse and media coverage not only pertains to historical injustices but also extends towards contemporary challenges faced by Indigenous communities. These adversities encompass issues such as poverty, healthcare disparities, and political obstacles which are oftentimes disregarded or downplayed within public discussions. The failure to adequately report on these matters impedes progress towards enacting effective policy changes and support systems for Native American peoples who continue to suffer from systemic marginalization.

An emblematic example of this broader issue of Native American underrepresentation in the United States is found in an examination of the lack of acknowledgement of Native American communities within the state by the state of Pennsylvania. The historical denial of the existence of Native Americans in Pennsylvania serves as a noteworthy example of underrepresentation perpetuated by public institutions. This denial results in Native American communities not receiving official recognition or acknowledgment, therefore rendering them largely invisible within the state’s records and narratives. The absence of official status places these groups at a disadvantage – lacking legal rights, resources and opportunities that come with full acknowledgement. Moreover, this lack further contributes to their underrepresentation. Denying their cultural contributions creates an even greater disconnection from history, amplifying this invisibility throughout public awareness about Pennsylvania’s past[5].  Furthermore, it is distressing to recount how societal pressure forced many members of Native American tribes in Pennsylvania into concealing ancestry leading towards the erasure of cultural identity  – ultimately creating another form of ongoing-under-representation for Native Americans.

Moving forward, we will be focusing primarily on the political underrepresentation of the Native Americans. However, it is important to understand that the underrepresentation of Native Americans is a multifaceted issue that transcends the and extends deep into various aspects of American society. While the lack of political representation is a significant concern, it is important to note that it is just one facet of a broader pattern of systemic inequity and marginalization that Native American communities grapple with. Recognizing that underrepresentation is not confined solely to the political arena, is crucial to adopt a thorough approach that addresses these interconnected issues.

Continuing on, the late 19th and early 20th centuries were a time of significant political transformation for the United States. As the nation grappled with industrialization, urbanization, and the expansion of democratic ideals, various marginalized groups strove to gain representation within the political arena. However, one group that often remains overlooked in this narrative is Native Americans. Despite their rich cultural heritage deeply intertwined with the American landscape, Native Americans found themselves systematically excluded from meaningful participation in the political process. Continuing into this section we will dive into an examination of how Native Americans experienced political underrepresentation during this crucial period. By shedding light on this lesser-known aspect of American history, we can better understand the complexities surrounding democracy’s development and confront enduring issues related to Indigenous rights and representation.

To truly gain and understand the development of the intense political underrepresentation of Native Americans we have to take step back in time, particular to the year 1878 when the Washington Constitutional Convention would convene. The Washington Constitutional Convention of 1878 stands as a pivotal moment in American history, particularly concerning the political underrepresentation of Native Americans. Held during a time when the nation was grappling with issues of equality and inclusion, this convention shed light on the deep-rooted injustices faced by indigenous communities. The proceedings not only highlighted the systemic marginalization of Native Americans but also sparked conversations that would shape future legislation and advocacy efforts aimed at rectifying these longstanding disparities. During this era, Native Americans across the United States were consistently denied their basic rights to political participation. Discriminatory policies and practices had effectively silenced their voices and hindered their ability to influence decisions that directly impacted their lives. This disenfranchisement was acutely felt in Washington state, where tribal nations faced numerous challenges in asserting their political power.

 At the convention, the creators of Washington State’s Constitution made significant choices that directly impacted Native American involvement in politics and representation. One such choice was excluding non-citizens from voting, which affected many Natives as their tribal affiliations rendered them ineligible for citizenship. This exclusion prevented a large portion of Native Americans from participating until 1924 when the Indian Citizenship Act was passed. Furthermore, although there were Indigenous representatives present at this meeting, they did not have any power to vote which resulted in inadequately considering native perspectives during constitution drafting – leading to underrepresentation within political processes across the state. In addition, the 1878 constitution confirmed Washington’s indigenous tribes’ limited sovereignty by placing them under strict jurisdiction where self-governance could be undermined. Additionally, voting restrictions imposed disproportionate property requirements on natives impeding fair opportunities towards meaningful participation or political representation. [6] Notably, these decisions continue impacting today’s policies & governance locally with these communities still facing challenges asserting rightful political rights while maintaining sufficient influence over local affairs.

Furthermore, after the convention in 1878, a significant period of political underrepresentation was set off in the United States. This era was characterized by a combination of legal, cultural, and socio-political factors that marginalized Native American voices in the national political landscape. As mentioned previously, after the passage of the Dawes Act in 1887, Native American lands were dramatically reduced through allotment, often leading to the loss of tribal communal ownership and self-governance. The imposition of citizenship and land ownership requirements for voting further disenfranchised Native Americans, as many were deemed unfit to vote due to their tribal affiliations or lack of individual property. For example, various state constitutions, such as North Dakota’s in 1889, introduced clauses demanding that Native Americans sever tribal ties to be eligible to vote. This effectively disconnected them from their tribal communities and cultural identities. Not only did this impact their involvement in tribal governance, but it also hindered their political representation in state and national politics. Additionally, the federal government’s policies of forced assimilation and the establishment of Indian boarding schools which aimed to eradicate Native cultures and languages also dealt a serious blow to the political representation of Native Americans. This cultural assault hindered Native Americans’ political participation by disconnecting them from their traditional forms of governance and communal decision-making. Native Americans were also not afforded equal opportunities for education and employment, which further in return additionally limited their political influence. [7] Continuing, the Indian Reorganization Act of 1934 represented a partial shift in federal policy, allowing tribes to reconstitute their governments and regain some measure of self-determination. This brief positive shift after 1934, however, wouldn’t be long lived as it following the trend would be undermined by the shift that would occur in the 1940’s.

The 1940s would mark a critical turning point in Native American policy in the United States, heralding a shift that significantly deepened political underrepresentation of Indigenous peoples. This era was characterized by a series of policy changes and legislative actions that not only neglected the voices and interests of Native American communities but actively marginalized them. During the 1940s, there was a significant transformation in government policies towards Native Americans. These changes led to a reduction of tribal sovereignty and autonomy as the government began considering terminating its responsibilities to these communities[8]. Influential members of Congress advocated for assimilating Native Americans into mainstream society while seeking to shift decision-making authority away from them. Simultaneously, states were pressuring federal authorities to withdraw their obligations regarding indigenous populations. The overarching objective was economic and social rehabilitation; however, such policies often disregarded unique cultural and political needs required by these communities. [9] This era is marked by a pivotal shift in Native American policy that had long-lasting consequences on their political representation and self-determination.

This shift would continue through the 1950’s with the previously mentioned relocation policies put in place. However, as we enter the 1960’s another shift occurs with the emergence of the African American Civil Rights movement. The Civil Rights Movement brought about a significant change in Native American political representation. Initially aimed at addressing the rights of African Americans, its principles resonated with other marginalized groups such as Native Americans, who also sought equal treatment and non-discrimination. The passing of two legislative acts – the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and Voting Rights Act of 1965 facilitated greater access to voting for minorities by eliminating discriminatory practices like voter literacy tests and poll taxes that had long plagued native communities. Inspired by these changes, activists emerged from within local tribes seeking self-determination which ultimately led to increased participation in politics resulting in greater engagement on all levels-locally statewide and even federally.

Although the Voting Rights Act of 1965 aimed to eradicate racial discrimination in voting and grant Native Americans full participation in elections, their communities still faced political underrepresentation due to various challenges. These obstacles encompassed issues such as gerrymandering, voter identification requirements, and limited access to polling places on reservations or rural areas. These circumstances adversely impacted Native American voters’ capacity for exercising their democratic rights effectively. [10] Furthermore, a lack of representation at both state legislatures and federal levels persisted throughout subsequent elections — underscoring an ongoing struggle toward inclusive politics that continues today. Even with advancements made through the Voting Rights Act, these barriers demonstrate how deep-seated inequities continue denying fair political representation for Indigenous peoples across America. A prime example of the continuing political underrepresentation that followed the Voting Rights Act is the campaigns for the election of 1972. The campaigns for the election of 1972 underscore the persistent lack of political representation for Native Americans, even in the aftermath of the 1965 Voting Rights Act. It is evident that Native American concerns remained marginalized as both presidential candidates in the 1972 election, George McGovern and Richard Nixon, primarily focused on broader national issues like foreign policy and economic reforms, neglecting specific Native American issues. The campaigns further highlight a historical pattern of unfulfilled promises and pledges of support, further indicating that Native American voices were not adequately heard or represented in the political discourse. Furthermore, Nixon’s decision to reduce the Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA) budget by nearly $50 million exemplifies a lack of commitment to addressing the unique challenges and needs of Native American communities. Additionally, the campaigns brought attention to the historical trust-based relationship between the United States and Native Americans, which has often been unfulfilling and marked by neglected promises. [11] Overall, despite the enactment of the Voting Rights Act of 1965, the political underrepresentation of Native Americans persisted, as demonstrated by the government’s ongoing failure to address their specific concerns and needs as evidenced by the 1972 election campaigns.

Before we bring this study to an end, in order to provide a more comprehensive picture, it is important to acknowledge the rise of movement for Native American rights that began to develop during the end of the time frame discussed here. Serving as a culmination of the enduring disparities and underrepresentation faced by Native Americans for centuries the Red Power Movement developed in the late 1960s and 1970s. Emerging as a response to these long-standing injustices, the movement sought to address issues such as tribal sovereignty, land rights, cultural preservation, and political activism. The Red Power Movement played a crucial role in raising awareness and advocating for the rights of Native Americans in contemporary American society. While it paved the way for significant progress, Indigenous communities continue to grapple with ongoing challenges, including poverty, healthcare disparities, and political obstacles. [12]These disparities persist, emphasizing the need for continued advocacy and change. However, it’s important to note that the comprehensive examination of the Red Power Movement and its contemporary implications lies beyond the scope of this study, which primarily focuses on the historical context and challenges faced by Native Americans during earlier periods.

Ultimately, the underrepresentation both politically and in general detailed in this section intensely shines a light on how the neglect and amnesia surrounding the forced removals of Native Americans have played a significant role in perpetuating the disparities and challenges faced by these communities. The historical narrative reveals how Native Americans have consistently been excluded from meaningful participation in various aspects of American society, including politics, despite their rich cultural heritage and contributions to the nation. This exclusion extends to the denial of basic rights, voting restrictions, and the erosion of tribal sovereignty. Even after legislative efforts like the Voting Rights Act of 1965 which was aimed at ensuring equal political participation, barriers persisted such as gerrymandering and limited polling access, demonstrating ongoing obstacles to representation. In addition, the focus in the 1972 election campaigns serves as a poignant example of how Native American concerns have been marginalized in national politics. This pattern culminated in the emergence of the Red Power Movement in the late 1960s and 1970s which further pushed the need for advocacy and change in response to deep-rooted disparities. Additionally, this historical underrepresentation and discrimination contribute to the idea that acknowledging and addressing these past injustices and the pattern of underrepresentation are crucial steps toward rectifying the ongoing challenges faced by Native American communities and achieving greater equity and inclusivity.

In conclusion, the involuntary displacement of Native American communities from their traditional lands during the late 19th century and subsequent ignorance about this period in U.S. history have had significant repercussions that still impact Indigenous people today. The marginalization and lack of acknowledgment these occurrences received has contributed to ongoing inequalities, limited representation, and hardships faced by Native Americans and neglecting past injustices has continued a pattern of disregard for indigenous  peoples’ rights which perpetuates further neglect and subordination meant toward them.

Furthermore, the research has highlighted that government policies, such as the Dawes Act and relocation policies of the 1950s, had profound and lasting effects on Native American communities. These policies aimed at assimilation and urbanization disrupted traditional ways of life, eroded tribal sovereignty, and contributed to economic instability. The consequences of these policies are high poverty levels with limited access to quality healthcare and education and political underrepresentation which affects Native Americans even today. Moreover, along with these consequences, light is shed on the matter of political underrepresentation faced by Native Americans throughout history. Starting from exclusionary policies adopted at Washington Constitutional Convention in 1878 to harmful transformations in federal policy during the 1940s; Native Americans have been systemically oppressed within political procedures. Continuing, despite having The Voting Rights Act introduced in 1965, hindrances such as gerrymandering, and voter ID requirements still hinder their impact over politics.

Additionally, the research has also highlighted how the underrepresentation of Native Americans extends beyond politics and encompasses various aspects of American society, including education, healthcare, employment, and media representation. Recognizing the impact of historical amnesia and underrepresentation, it becomes clear that addressing current challenges and fostering development within Native American communities is essential. By shedding light on these historical oversights and their implications for present-day disparities, this research aims to contribute to broader efforts toward achieving equity and justice for Native American populations. Acknowledging their rich cultural heritage, enduring resilience, ongoing struggle for rights and representation are crucial steps towards rectifying past injustices while building a more inclusive society equitable for everyone including the Native Americans.

Burt, Larry W. “Roots of the Native American Urban Experience: Relocation Policy in the 1950s.” American Indian Quarterly 10, no. 2 (1986): 85–99. https://doi.org/10.2307/1183982.  

“Dawes Act of 1887.” National Archives Catalog , 2016. https://catalog.archives.gov/id/5641587.  

Jacobs, Michelle R. Indigenous memory, urban reality stories of American Indian relocation and reclamation. New York: New York University Press, 2023.

Legislative Review 1, no. 12 (1972). https://jstor-org.rider.idm.oclc.org/stable/community.28145368.   

Minderhout, David, and Andrea Frantz. “Invisible Indians: Native Americans in Pennsylvania.” Human Organization 67, no. 1 (2008): 61–67. http://www.jstor.org.rider.idm.oclc.org/stable/44127040.

“Resolution Regarding Native Americans Adopted at the Washington Territory Constitutional Convention, July 17, 1878.” University of Washington Libraries. Special Collections Division. ; Washington Territory Records. Accession No. 4284-001, Box 3. Accessed September 26, 2023. https://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=edsbas&AN=edsbas.73849FE4&site=eds-live&scope=site.  

Treuer, David. “The Heartbeat of Wounded Knee: Native America from 1890 to the Present.” Amazon, 2020. https://www.amazon.com/Heartbeat-Wounded-Knee-America-Present/dp/0399573194.  

Tyler, S. Lyman. A history of indian policy. Washington D.C.: United States Department of the Interior, Bureau of Indian Affairs, 1973.

Wolfley, Jeanette. “Jim Crow, Indian Style: The Disenfranchisement of Native Americans.” American Indian Law Review 16, no. 1 (1991): 167–202. https://doi.org/10.2307/20068694.   “‘Longest Walk,’ Protest March to Oppose Abrogation of All Native American Treaties and the Genocide of Indian People.” Accessed September 26, 2023. https://jstor.org/stable/community.34557616


[1]  “Dawes Act of 1887,” National Archives Catalog , 2016, https://catalog.archives.gov/id/5641587.

[2] Larry W. Burt, “Roots of the Native American Urban Experience: Relocation Policy in the 1950s,” American Indian Quarterly 10, no. 2 (1986): 85–99, https://doi.org/10.2307/1183982.

[3] Michelle R. Jacobs, Indigenous Memory, Urban Reality Stories of American Indian Relocation and Reclamation (New York: New York University Press, 2023).

[4] “‘Longest Walk,’ Protest March to Oppose Abrogation of All Native American Treaties and the Genocide of Indian People,” accessed September 26, 2023, https://jstor.org/stable/community.34557616 .

[5] David Minderhout and Andrea Frantz, “Invisible Indians: Native Americans in Pennsylvania,” Human Organization 67, no. 1 (2008): 61–67, http://www.jstor.org.rider.idm.oclc.org/stable/44127040.

[6] “Resolution Regarding Native Americans Adopted at the Washington Territory Constitutional Convention, July 17, 1878,” University of Washington Libraries, Special Collections Division, Washington Territory Records, Accession No. 4284-001, Box 3, accessed September 26, 2023.”

[7] S. Lyman Tyler, A History of Indian Policy (Washington D.C.: United States Department of the Interior, Bureau of Indian Affairs, 1973).

[8] David Treuer, “The Heartbeat of Wounded Knee: Native America from 1890 to the Present,” Amazon, 2020, https://www.amazon.com/Heartbeat-Wounded-Knee-America-Present/dp/0399573194.

[9] S. Lyman Tyler, A History of Indian Policy (Washington D.C.: United States Department of the Interior, Bureau of Indian Affairs, 1973).

[10] Jeanette Wolfley, “Jim Crow, Indian Style: The Disenfranchisement of Native Americans,” American Indian Law Review 16, no. 1 (1991): 167–202, https://doi.org/10.2307/20068694.

[11] Legislative Review 1, no. 12 (1972), https://jstor-org.rider.idm.oclc.org/stable/community.28145368.

[12] David Treuer, “The Heartbeat of Wounded Knee: Native America from 1890 to the Present,” Amazon, 2020, https://www.amazon.com/Heartbeat-Wounded-Knee-America-Present/dp/0399573194.


 

 

IBM and Auschwitz: New Evidence

Edwin Black

Reprinted with permission from https://historynewsnetwork.org/article/1035

Edwin Black is author of IBM and the Holocaust, The Strategic Alliance between Nazi Germany and America’s Most Powerful Corporation (Crown Publishers 2001 and Three Rivers Press 2002). This article is drawn from Mr. Black’s just released and updated German paperback edition. The new edition includes the discovery of hard evidence linking IBM to Auschwitz. The evidence, detailed here, will be appended to his English language editions at the next reprinting in the new future.

The infamous Auschwitz tattoo began as an IBM number. In August 1943, a timber merchant from Bendzin, Poland, arrived at Auschwitz. He was among a group of 400 inmates, mostly Jews. First, a doctor examined him briefly to determine his fitness for work. His physical information was noted on a medical record. Second, his full prisoner registration was completed with all personal details. Third, his name was checked against the indices of the Political Section to see if he would be subjected to special punishment. Finally, he was registered in the Labor Assignment Office and assigned a characteristic five-digit IBM Hollerith number, 44673.

The five-digit Hollerith number was part of a custom punch card system devised by IBM to track prisoners in Nazi concentration camps, including the slave labor at Auschwitz.

The Polish timber merchant’s punch card number would follow him from labor assignment to labor assignment as Hollerith systems tracked him and his availability for work, and reported the data to the central inmate file eventually kept at Department DII. Department DII of the SS Economics Administration in Oranienburg oversaw all camp slave labor assignments, utilizing elaborate IBM systems.

Later in the summer of 1943, the Polish timber merchant’s same five-digit Hollerith number, 44673, was tattooed on his forearm. Eventually, during the summer of 1943, all non-Germans at Auschwitz were similarly tattooed. Tattoos, however, quickly evolved at Auschwitz. Soon, they bore no further relation to Hollerith compatibility for one reason: the Hollerith number was designed to track a working inmate—not a dead one. Once the daily death rate at Auschwitz climbed, Hollerith-based numbering simply became outmoded. Soon, ad hoc numbering systems were inaugurated at Auschwitz. Various number ranges, often with letters attached, were assigned to prisoners in ascending sequence. Dr. Josef Mengele, who performed cruel experiments, tattooed his own distinct number series on “patients.” Tattoo numbering schemes ultimately took on a chaotic incongruity all its own as an internal Auschwitz-specific identification system.

However, Hollerith numbers remained the chief method Berlin employed to centrally identify and track prisoners at Auschwitz. For example, in late 1943, some 6,500 healthy, working Jews were ordered to the gas chamber by the SS. But their murder was delayed for two days as the Political Section meticulously checked each of their numbers against the Section’s own card index. The Section was under orders to temporarily reprieve any Jews with traces of Aryan parentage.

Sigismund Gajda was another Auschwitz inmate processed by the Hollerith system. Born in Kielce, Poland, Gajda was about 40 years of age when on May 18, 1943, he arrived at Auschwitz. A plain paper form, labeled “Personal Inmate Card,” listed all of Gajda’s personal information. He professed Roman Catholicism, had two children, and his work skill was marked”mechanic.” The reverse side of his Personal Inmate Card listed nine previous work assignments. Once Gajda’s card was processed by IBM equipment, a large indicia in typical Nazi Gothic script was rubber-stamped at the bottom: “Hollerith erfasst,” or “Hollerith registered.” Indeed, that designation was stamped in large letters on hundreds of thousands of processed Personal Inmate Cards at camps all across Europe. The Extermination by Labor campaign itself depended upon specially designed IBM systems that matched worker skills and locations with labor needs across Nazi-dominated Europe. Once the prisoner was too exhausted to work, he was murdered by gas or bullet. Exterminated prisoners were coded “six” in the IBM system.

The Polish timber merchant’s Hollerith tattoo, Sigismund Gajda’s inmate form, and the victimization of millions more at Auschwitz live on as dark icons of IBM’s conscious 12-year business alliance with Nazi Germany. IBM’s custom-designed prisoner-tracking Hollerith punch card equipment allowed the Nazis to efficiently manage the hundreds of concentration camps and sub-camps throughout Europe, as well as the millions who passed through them. Auschwitz’ camp code in the IBM tabulation system was 001.8

Nearly every Nazi concentration camp operated a Hollerith Department known as the Hollerith Abteilung. The three-part Hollerith system of paper forms, punch cards and processing machines varied from camp to camp and from year to year, depending upon conditions. In some camps, such as Dachau and Storkow, as many as two dozen IBM sorters, tabulators, and printers were installed. Other facilities operated punchers only and submitted their cards to central locations such as Mauthausen or Berlin. In some camps, such as Stuthoff, the plain paper forms were coded and processed elsewhere. Hollerith activity, whether paper, punching or processing, was frequently—but not always–located within the camp itself, consigned to a special bureau called the Labor Assignment Office, known in German as the Arbeitseinatz. The Arbeitseinsatz issued the all-important life-sustaining daily work assignments, and processed all inmate cards and labor transfer rosters.

IBM did not sell any of its punch card machines to Nazi Germany. The equipment was leased by the month. Each month, often more frequently, authorized repairmen, working directly for or trained by IBM, serviced the machines on-site–whether in the middle of Berlin or at a concentration camp. In addition, all spare parts were supplied by IBM factories located throughout Europe. Of course, the billions of punch cards continually devoured by the machines, available exclusively from IBM, were extra.

IBM’s extensive technological support for Hitler’s conquest of Europe and genocide against the Jews was extensively documented in my book, IBM and the Holocaust, published in February 2001 and updated in a paperback edition. In March of this year, The Village Voice broke exclusive new details of a special IBM wartime subsidiary set up in Poland by IBM’s New York headquarters shortly after Hitler’s 1939 invasion. In 1939, America had not entered the war, and it was still legal to trade with Nazi Germany. IBM’s new Polish subsidiary, Watson Business Machines, helped Germany automate the rape of Poland. The subsidiary was named for its president Thomas J. Watson.

Central to the Nazi effort was a massive 500-man Hollerith Gruppe, installed in a looming brown building at 24 Murnerstrasse in Krakow. The Hollerith Gruppe of the Nazi Statistical Office crunched all the numbers of plunder and genocide that allowed the Nazis to systematically starve the Jews, meter them out of the ghettos and then transport them to either work camps or death camps. The trains running to Auschwitz were tracked by a special guarded IBM customer site facility at 22 Pawia in Krakow. The millions of punch cards the Nazis in Poland required were obtained exclusively from IBM, including one company print shop at 6 Rymarska Street across the street from the Warsaw Ghetto. The entire Polish subsidiary was overseen by an IBM administrative facility at 24 Kreuz in Warsaw.

The exact address and equipment arrays of the key IBM offices and customer sites in Nazi-occupied Poland have been discovered. But no one has ever been able to locate an IBM facility at, or even near, Auschwitz. Until now. Auschwitz chief archivist Piotr Setkiewicz finally pinpointed the first such IBM customer site. The newly unearthed IBM customer site was a huge Hollerith Büro. It was situated in the I.G. Farben factory complex, housed in Barracks 18, next to German Civil Worker Camp 7, about two kilometers from Auschwitz III, also known as Monowitz Concentration Camp. Auschwitz’ Setkiewicz explains, “The Hollerith office at IG Farben in Monowitz used the IBM machines as a system of computerization of civil and slave labor resources. This gave Farben the opportunity to identify people with certain skills, primarily skills needed for the construction of certain buildings in Monowitz.”

By way of background, what most people call “Auschwitz” was actually a sprawling hell comprised of three concentration camps, surrounded by some 40 subcamps, numerous factories and a collection of farms in a surrounding captive commercial zone. The original Auschwitz became known simply as Auschwitz I, and functioned as a diversified camp for transit, labor and detention. Auschwitz II, also called Birkenau, became the infamous extermination center, operating gas chambers and ovens. Nearby Auschwitz III, known as Monowitz, existed primarily as a slave labor camp. Monowitz is where IBM’s bustling customer site functioned.

Many of the long-known paper prisoner forms stamped Hollerith Erfasst, or” registered by Hollerith,” indicated the prisoners were from Auschwitz III, that is, Monowitz. Now Auschwitz archivist Setkiewicz has also discovered about 100 Hollerith machine summary printouts of Monowitz prisoner assignments and details generated by the I.G. Farben customer site. For example, Alexander Kuciel, born August 12, 1889, was in 1944 deployed as a slave carpenter, skill coded 0149, and his Hollerith printout is marked “Sch/P,” the Reich abbreviation for Schutzhäftling/Pole. Schutzhäftling/Pole means “Polish political prisoner.” The giant Farben facilities, also known as “I.G. Werk Auschwitz,” maintained two Hollerith Büro staff contacts, Herr Hirsch and Herr Husch. One key man running the card index systems was Eduard Müller. Müller was a fat, aging, ill-kempt man, with brown hair and brown eyes. Some said, “He stank like a polecat.” A rabid Nazi, Müller took special delight in harming inmates from his all-important position in camp administration.

Comparison of the new printouts to other typical camp cards shows the Monowitz systems were customized for the specific coding Farben needed to process the thousands of slave workers who labored and died there. The machines were probably also used to manage and develop manufacturing processes and ordinary business applications. The machines almost certainly did not maintain extermination totals, which were calculated as “evacuations” by the Hollerith Gruppe in Krakow. At press time, the diverse Farben codes and range of machine uses are still being studied. It is not known how many additional IBM customer sites researchers will discover in the cold ashes of the expansive commercial Auschwitz zone.

A Hollerith Büro, such as the one at Auschwitz III, was larger than a typical mechanized concentration camp Hollerith Department. A Büro was generally comprised of more than a dozen punching machines, a sorter and one tabulator. Leon Krzemieniecki was a compulsory worker who operated a tabulator at the IBM customer site at the Polish railways office in Krakow that kept track of trains going to and from Auschwitz. He recalls, “I know that trains were constantly going from Krakow to Auschwitz–not only passenger trains, but cargo trains as well.” Krzemieniecki, who worked for two years with IBM punchers, card sorters and tabulators, estimates that a punch card operation for so large a manufacturing complex as Farben “would probably require at least two high-speed tabulators, four sorters, and perhaps 20 punchers.” He added, “The whole thing would probably require 30-40 persons, plus their German supervisors.”

The new revelation of IBM technology in the Auschwitz area constitutes the final link in the chain of documentation surrounding Big Blue’s vast enterprise in Nazi-occupied Poland, supervised at first directly from its New York headquarters, and later through its Geneva office. Jewish leaders and human rights activists were again outraged. “This latest disclosure removes any pretext of deniability and completes the puzzle that has been IBM and Auschwitz: New Evidence.

“When put together about IBM in Poland,” declared Malcolm Hoenlein, vice president of the New York-based Conference of Presidents of Major Jewish Organizations. “The picture that emerges is most disturbing,” added Hoenlein.” IBM must confront this matter honestly if there is to be any closure.”

Marek Orski, state historian of the museum at Poland’s Stuthoff Concentration Camp, has distinguished himself as that country’s leading expert on the use of IBM technology at Polish concentration camps. “This latest information,” asserts Orski,”proves once more that IBM’s Hollerith machines in occupied Poland were functioning in the area of yet another concentration camp, in this case Auschwitz-Monowitz–something completely unknown until now. It is yet another significant revelation in what has become the undoubted fact of IBM’s involvement in Poland. Now we need to compile more documents identifying the exact activity of this Hollerith Büro in Auschwitz Monowitz.”

Krzemieniecki is convinced obtaining such documents would be difficult. “It would be great to have access to those documents,” he said, “but where are they?” He added, “Please remember, I witnessed in 1944, when the war front came closer to Poland, that all the IBM machines in Krakow were removed. I’m sure the Farben machines were being moved at the same time. Plus, the Germans were busy destroying all the records. Even still,” he continues, “what has been revealed thus far is a great achievement.”

Auschwitz historians were originally convinced that there were no machines at Auschwitz, that all the prisoner documents were processed at a remote location, primarily because they could find no trace of the equipment in the area. They even speculated that the stamped forms from Auschwitz III were actually punched at the massive Hollerith service at Mauthausen concentration camp. Indeed, even the Farben Hollerith documents had been identified some time ago at Auschwitz, but were not understood as IBM printouts. That is, not until the Hollerith Büro itself was discovered. Archivists only found the Büro because it was listed in the I.G. Werk Auschwitz phone book on page 50. The phone extension was 4496.”I was looking for something else,” recalls Auschwitz’ Setkiewicz,”and there it was.” Once the printouts were reexamined in the light of IBM punch card revelations, the connection became clear.

Setkiewicz says, “We still need to find more similar identification cards and printouts, and try to find just how extensive was the usage in the whole I.G. Farben administration and employment of workers. But no one among historians has had success in finding these documents.”

In the current climate of intense public scrutiny of corporate subsidiaries, IBM’s evasive response has aroused a renewed demand for accountability. “In the day of Enron and Tyco,” says Robert Urekew, a University of Louisville professor of business ethics, “we now know these are not impersonal entities. They are directed by people with names and faces.” Prof. Urekew, who has studied IBM’s Hitler-era activities, continued, “The news that IBM machines were at Auschwitz is just the latest smoking gun. For IBM to continue to stonewall and hinder access to its New York archives flies in the face of the focus on accountability in business ethics today. Since the United States was not technically at war with Nazi Germany in 1939, it may have been legal for IBM to do business with the Third Reich and its camps in Poland. But was it moral?”

Even some IBM employees are frustrated by IBM’s silence. Michael Zamczyk, for example, is a long-time IBM employee in San Jose, California, working on business controls. A loyal IBMer, Zamczyk has worked for the company for some 28 years. He is also probably the only IBM employee who survived the Krakow ghetto in 1941 and 1942. Since revelations about IBM’s ties to Hitler exploded into public view in February 2001, Zamczyk has been demanding answers—and an apology–from IBM senior management.

“Originally,” says Zamczyk,”I was just trying to determine if it was IBM equipment that helped select my father to be shipped to Auschwitz, and if the machines were used to schedule the trains to Auschwitz.

Zamczyk started writing letters and emails, but to no avail. He could not get any concrete response about IBM’s activities during the Hitler era.”I contacted senior management, all the way up to the president, trying to get an answer,”states Zamczyk. “Since then, I have read the facts about IBM in Poland, about the railroad department at 22 Pawia Street in Krakow, and I read about the eyewitnesses. Now I feel that IBM owes me, as an IBM employee, an apology. And that is all I am looking for.”

Zamczyk was met by stony silence from IBM executives.” The only response I got,” he relates, “was basically telling me there would be no public or private apology. But I am still waiting for that apology and debating what to do next.”

Repeated attempts to obtain IBM reaction to the newest disclosure were rebuffed by IBM spokesman Carol Makovich. I phoned her more than a dozen times, but she did not respond, or grant me permission to examine Polish, Brazilian and French subsidiary documents at the company’s Somers, New York archives. Nor has the company been forthcoming to numerous Jewish leaders, consumers and members of the media who have demanded answers.

At one point, Makovich quipped to a Reuters correspondent, “We are a technology company, we are not historians.”