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That's the letter K, the number 12.com slash HTDS. K12.com slash HTDS. This episode contains instances of race-based violence and murder. Listener discretion is advised. It's Thursday evening, May 2nd, 1912. We're at the corner of 57th and 7th in Midtown, New York City, where a seemingly endless throng is descending upon the city's unparalleled cathedral of music, Carnegie Hall.
The wealthier are arriving in traditional horse-drawn carriages or those new gas-powered taxi cabs. Others rode the less than a decade old but quickly expanding subway or simply walked. But however they came, these New Yorkers, black and white, are about to experience a night of entertainment unlike any the nation has ever seen. Tonight, 300 black musicians, either a solo act or in a group, are performing in a single concert. But before we enter this theater, a quick aside.
Let's remember that we're in the era of Jim Crow, and even here in the North, segregation can exist. In fact, black and white theatergoers typically sit as two separate groups. Not tonight, though. This concert will have no color barrier, as black artists perform, to quote historian Stephen Harris, their own music in the most famous white-owned, white-run theater in the country and before a mixed audience. Close quote.
More than that, the proceeds will benefit the city's just-established music school settlement for colored people. A historic night indeed then, provided all goes well. And will it? The music school's white, violin virtuoso founder, David Maness, who believes that music is humanity's universal language and the key to healing the nation's racial divides, cautiously hopes so. But not all agree.
Another brilliant violinist, a black composer named Will Marion Cook, fears that white attendees won't enjoy what they hear tonight. He knows that many white Americans consider black music to be unsophisticated, vulgar even. He worries that this concert will fail and in doing so, "set the Negro race back 50 years." Yikes.
The stakes are high then, and perhaps no one feels that more so than one of the few who helped organize this concert and is key to the actual performance: the president of the African-American Harlem-based music organization, the Clef Club, and the conductor of its namesake orchestra, the one and only James Reese Europe. And with that background, let's get back to this concert.
James Reese Europe, or Big Jim as the six foot tall, athletic built, and well-known musician is typically called, is pressing his way through the streets outside the five story reddish and brown brick Carnegie Hall. Sales were flagging just yesterday, but thanks to an article in the Evening Journal, a thousand people are out here now clamoring for tickets to this sold out concert. In many ways, his sold out concert. Assuming he can get inside, that is.
It's turning into a madhouse in the streets, and near the entrance, a police officer is holding out a nightstick, hollering, "Get back! Get back!" But Jim can't get back. He's already late and can't very well get stuck with the non-ticket-holding crowd. He has an orchestra to direct. Pressing forward, Jim bellows over the competing voices around him. "Officer, I've gotta get through!" The overwhelmed policeman roughly answers, "What do you mean you gotta get through?"
Hearing this exchange, people in the crowd now take notice of the large, well-dressed, dark-skinned man in the wire-rimmed glasses. Oh wow, they're standing right next to Jim Europe. The Jim Europe! Scores of voices vouch for Jim, assuring the officer that he isn't lying to gain access. This really is the conductor of the Clef Club Orchestra, and the concert can't go on without him. Finally convinced, the policeman lets Jim by.
Exhausted and late, Big Jim walks briskly and directly toward the stage, but comes to a sharp stop in the wings as his eyes take in the scene.
Before him are 125 or so members of his Clef Club Orchestra, the 150 members of the Clef Club Chorus, and still more Black artists, from the gifted violinist Will Marion Cook to the bellhops, barbers, and doormen of New York who, often unable to read music, play their guitars, mandolins, double basses, or other instruments by ear. Jim has taught some of these guys the songs they'll play tonight note by note.
And looking beyond these hundreds of black musicians on stage is a veritable sea of black and white faces, from the city's prominent to the unknown, intermingled, filling every single one of Carnegie Hall's 2,800 seats, standing in the aisles, standing in the back. Some are even seated on the edge of the stage. My God, what a sight. Has such a group ever assembled before? Well, no time for speculation. The show must go on.
Jim steps onto the stage. The audience gives the tall and spectacled conductor a warm welcome as he steps out, taking his place before his dear friends, the many members of the Clef Club Orchestra, giving motions for all to sit. Jim then lifts his baton and with that starts their first number, the Clef Club March. It's one of Jim's own compositions, and for most of the white audience members, it's a new sound altogether.
I mean, it's a march all right. Troops can march to it, but it's got something else, something special. If this is quote unquote unrefined and vulgar, well, these white New Yorkers are all for it. The beat is captivating and soon thousands of spectators, regardless of their color, are wagging their fingers, tapping their feet, and nodding along to the Cleft Club March.
At the end of the march, the mixed-race audience erupts with cheers and applause for the Clef Club Orchestra and its director, Jim Miro. Ultimately, tonight's concert proves a screaming success, raising significant funds for the music school settlement for colored people and receiving largely positive reviews in the press. But little does Jim know that, in the not-so-distant future, he won't just play his military marches for civilians.
Soon, he and his music will help to raise and serve a National Guard regiment of black soldiers destined to become one of the most celebrated and decorated in the Great War to come. One whose very name will send a chill down German spines. The Harlem Hellfighters. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. History That Doesn't Suck
More than 350,000 Black Americans serve in the US military during the Great War. The vast majority do so as laborers, but among those few who do see combat, one regiment stands out more than any other. The 15th New York, later and better known as the 369th, or the Rattlers, or the Harlem Hellfighters. And today, we've come to their unique story. Now, the tale of the old 15th, as these men prefer to be called, doesn't begin on the battlefields of France.
It begins amid the conflicts of Jim Crow racial segregation. Indeed, the regiment's founding and training is a story unto itself, one that may never have succeeded without Jim Europe's music. So we'll begin there with the struggles to create and man this regiment, as well as the challenges of avoiding violence while training in the South.
From there, we'll head to France, where we'll see how the Black 93rd Division's service in the French Army affords the 369th Regiment the chance to leave manual labor behind to fight on the front lines. We'll also take note of how Lieutenant Jim Europe, though technically a machine gunner, will make France fall in love with his ragtime and early jazz sounds, effectively proving that the baton is mightier than the gun.
But we'll actually have to settle for a mere taste of the 369th's battles and concerts abroad so we can push past the war's end and see how the Hellfighters fare as they come back home. After being decorated by the French military and celebrated as heroes in the American press, they hope, like Dr. W.E.B. Du Bois, that their valor will mean Jim Crow's demise. As for reality, well, we'll save that for the end.
Ready to meet the 15th New York slash 369th? Yeah, lock both of those terms in now because they're one and the same. Good, then let's start with a brief refresher on the history of black soldiers and Jim Crow in the United States to this point so we can better contextualize the challenges of recruiting and training. Here we go.
From Crispus Attucks' death in the Boston Massacre and the 5,000 black patriots who fought in the Revolution, to the 200,000 black men who donned Union blue during the Civil War, and thousands of others who fought in the nation's other wars, we've seen countless black Americans fight, bleed, and die for the United States in past episodes. It is just as Woodrow Wilson's Secretary of War, Newton Baker, summarily says, quote,
Yet, despite this track record, Black Americans are still facing prejudice in the armed services and daily life as the United States enters World War I.
I've given you a fairly deep dive on these issues in a number of past episodes, particularly 61, 101, and 120, but here's a quick refresher on the military side. Going back to the early republic, the Militia Act of 1792 forbade black men from serving in state militias until 1862. The rationale for this was often contradictory, arguing that slavery had made black men too docile to soldier and simultaneously that arming them might lead to slave revolts.
The Civil War and Reconstruction meaningfully challenged this with new laws and constitutional amendments, but black soldiers remained segregated from their white counterparts and received few opportunities to fight, often wielding shovels and cooking utensils rather than rifles. And while slavery ended, segregation actually deepened, particularly once the Supreme Court ruled in 1896 that quote-unquote separate but equal Jim Crow laws were constitutional.
Thus it is that, as Europe goes to war in 1914 and the United States prepares for its own possible participation, black soldiers are still confronting long-held prejudices. In fact, Mississippi Senator James K. Vardaman says that when it comes to arming black men, "...I know of no greater menace to the South than this."
Meanwhile, Arkansas' U.S. Congressman Thaddeus Carraway introduces a bill in 1916 that would deny Black Americans the ability to serve in the military by banning the enlistment or re-enlistment of, quote, any person of the Negro or colored race, close quote.
So given that context, it's no small thing when, on May 25th, 1916, Governor Charles Whitman announces to a crowd of 2,000 New Yorkers at a Booker T. Washington memorial that he, quote, has issued an order authorizing the organization of a Negro regiment of the National Guard, close quote. The governor doesn't expect that the commander of the New York National Guard, Major General John O'Ryan, will support this regiment if it has exclusively Black leadership.
This is a disappointment to community leaders in the upper Manhattan neighborhood of Harlem, which is where many of New York's 60,000 or more black residents have settled amid black migration out of the South to avoid the worst of Jim Crow. But the governor has a good friend that he knows won't balk at leading black men and has a knack for dealing with sensitive issues.
The tall, dark, and handsome Nebraska native, former pupil of then-college professor Jack Pershing, and now New York lawyer and current colonel in the New York Militia Reserve, William "Big Bill" Hayward. With Big Bill on board, the 15th New York National Guard Regiment opens its recruiting headquarters in an old cigar shop at 2217 Seventh Avenue, ready to welcome Black recruits. Yet, few enlist at first.
This doesn't change when Congress makes its April 1917 declaration of war against Germany and enacts the draft, nor as President Woodrow Wilson proclaims nobly that the United States is fighting because, to quote him, the world must be made safe for democracy.
Instead, many black men look at Jim Crow segregation, the perception of black Americans pushed by the massively successful pro Ku Klux Klan movie, The Birth of a Nation, the resurgence of the Klan itself, as well as continued lynchings and see little reason to fight for this democracy.
For instance, when one black officer, Captain Napoleon Bonaparte Marshall, gives a short recruitment speech at the Lafayette Theater in early May 1917, a voice calls out from the audience, "What has that uniform ever got you?" Channeling the spirit of Frederick Douglass and Harlem's present leaders, he answers that this is the path to real citizenship.
But perhaps nothing highlights the 15th New York's struggles to entice 2,000 recruits like the NAACP's success with its silent protest parade on July 28, 1917, in which 8,000-plus white-clad Black New Yorkers marched down Fifth Avenue. They don't utter a single word, instead letting their signs with messages like, The first blood for American independence was shed by a Negro Crispus Attucks, do the talking.
Yet, amid such disenchantment, an unexpected champion of black enlistment comes forward, Dr. W.E.B. Du Bois. We met this well-dressed, formal professor back in episode 120, and while he remains an ardent critic of race relations in the United States, he argues in the NAACP's magazine, The Crisis, that black Americans can't ignore Germany's evils.
To quote him, Close quote.
Many are surprised by the professor's support, and there is some pushback when word gets out that Dr. Du Bois has been seeking a commission in the military intelligence branch. Still, his words entice numerous Black Americans to volunteer, enlist, and appear before draft boards. Meanwhile, in New York, Colonel Big Bill Hayward is seeing greater success in building up the 15th.
Although many in Harlem were initially disappointed with the white Nebraskan leading their black regiment, Big Bill has what the black published newspaper, the New York H, describes as an engaging manner, directness, and lack of a patronizing air. Beyond this, Bill knows what sells. This regiment needs to wow people when it parades through the streets, and that requires a top-notch band. This is where Lieutenant Jim Europe comes in, if Big Bill can talk him into it, that is.
That's right, the Clef Club president we met in this episode's opening has joined the 15th New York, but he isn't here to make music. Jim doesn't want to cash in on his celebrity status. In fact, he's joined up as a machine gunner to avoid just that. Besides, he doesn't care for loud and brassy military bands. So, Jim tries to dodge Bill's request by making over-the-top demands. For the sake of his reputation, he claims that a regulation 28-piece band won't do.
He'll need 44 musicians, all of the highest caliber and well-paid. To Jim's shock, the colonel says yes to everything, even sending Jim to Puerto Rico to recruit a world-class percussionist. One of Jim's best friends in the regiment, the singer Noble Sissel, laughs mightily as he teases Jim, saying, Well, they called your bluff. Jim answers by playfully chucking a telephone book at him.
And so, between Dr. Du Bois' words, Colonel Bill Hayward's people skills, and Jim Europe's music, the 15th New York draws recruits. Its ranks include celebrities like Jim Europe and professional boxer George Kidd Cotton, as well as many unknown faces, like the small, wiry, and young Southern Transplant, Henry Johnson.
With a full regiment of 2,000, the support of Harlem, and arguably the most gifted band in the military, Colonel Bill Hayward is on top of the world. He feels like he can make anything happen, but he's about to learn otherwise. It's August 29th, 1917. Just another day at the 15th New York's headquarters up in Harlem on the corner of 7th Avenue and 131st Street. Or so it is until Colonel Big Bill Hayward bursts in.
He's trying to keep his composure, but clearly he's furious about something as he makes his way to the adjutant's office. Bill sits down with a few officers, including his months-long friend, the square-jawed, clean-shaven Captain Arthur Little. Now on the verge of tears, the enraged and heartbroken Colonel blurts out, "'I applied for permission for our regiment to make that farewell parade to little old New York with the 27th Division, and my application was denied.'" "'That's right,'
The 15th New York, which is detached from the 27th Division, is not welcome in the division's farewell parade. And the colonel knows why. It's the same answer as when he asked, or begged, rather, for the 15th to be included in the 42nd Rainbow Division of National Guard regiments from across the nation. They told him at that time, black is not one of the colors of the rainbow. And once again, his men are being left out because of the color of their skin.
But then, the colonel finds a second wind. He laughs and exclaims, Damn their going-away parade!
Bill then raises his right hand as he pledges, "I swear to you that even if they won't let us parade with them and going away, that we will have a parade when we come home. That will be the greatest parade in one sense that New York will ever have seen. And I swear to you that we won't let any division have us attached to them for that parade." Standing up, Colonel Bill Hayward thinks through the realities of war.
the reality that he may not be alive for that homecoming. So he asks Arthur to swear the same. The captain does. And with that, everyone present joins hands and together they shout, amen. But while Big Bill is making big homecoming promises, he has a more pressing problem, navigating Jim Crow right here in the United States.
Tensions are particularly high right now too since the so-called Camp Logan Mutiny in Houston, Texas just a few days ago on August 23rd, 1917. This started when a black soldier with the 24th Infantry happened upon two police officers abusing a black woman. He tried to deescalate the situation but got pistol whipped and arrested for it, as did his corporal when he went to inquire about the soldier.
With tales of lynchings and rumors of an approaching mob swirling back at their camp, Camp Logan, some black troops took up arms and clashed with white officers and a posse. Twenty men, sixteen white and four black, died as a result. Sixty-five black soldiers will be tried for murder and mutiny in the months ahead, dozens of which will be sentenced to death or life in prison. Some will receive clemency, but not all. Several will hang.
But even with those verdicts yet to come, this is all bad news for the men of the 15th. It's amid these freshly stoked racial tensions that they're ordered to join the rest of the New York National Guard for training at Camp Wadsworth in Spartanburg, South Carolina. Very much aware of the recent race battle in Houston, Spartanburg's Jim Crow supporting mayor, J.F. Floyd, informs the War Department that this is a bad idea because, quote,
But the mayor's threatening words of protest go unheeded. Thus, on October 8th, 1917, the soldiers of the 15th depart without a parade for Camp Wadsworth.
Arriving late at night on October 11th, they settle in at a marshy, dilapidated, ill-prepared camp. And the following day, Colonel Bill Hayward warns his troops, "You are in a section hostile to colored people. I'm depending on you to act like the good soldiers you have always been and break the ice in this country for your entire race. But this is the Jim Crow South. Not looking for or making any trouble isn't always enough." It's Saturday evening, October 20th, 1917.
Jim Europe and his friend, the singer and drum major, Noble Sissel, or just Sis, as Jim calls him, are walking out of a Spartanburg, South Carolina church with some 75 of their fellow soldiers. Jim and Sis performed during the service, and now they're all making their way to the appointed street corner where they'll get picked up to return to Camp Wadsworth. Jim asks a local passing by where he could get a New York newspaper. The man points to a nearby hotel.
It's a whites-only hotel, but the stranger reassures Jim, saying, "Colored people here in town go there for papers." Turning to Noble Sissel, Jim says, "Go on over, sis, and get every paper that has the word 'New York' on it. I never knew how sweet New York was until I landed here." Sis isn't as sure as Jim is, but he swallows his doubts and heads over. Stepping inside, Noble sees white soldiers and patrons. They don't mind him at all.
So, the gifted singer walks directly to the newspaper stand. He makes his purchase. The white clerk is a perfect gentleman. Whew, Sis starts to relax. Then suddenly, Sis is shoved hard from behind and his hat is knocked to the ground. His assailant, the hotel proprietor, roughly says, Say, n***a, don't you know enough to take your hat off?
putting his hat back on and adjusting his glasses. Sis replies, "Do you realize you are abusing a United States soldier? And that is a government hat you knocked to the floor?" The gruff man answers by kicking Sis repeatedly as he makes for the door. Sis doesn't fight back. What the 40 or so white soldiers hanging out here do, they like Sis and all the men of the 15th, their fellow New Yorkers.
One white soldier calls out, let's kill the so-and-so and pull his dirty old hotel down about his ears. As the white soldiers begin to rally, one of them, only identified in future records as a young Jewish boy, runs outside to alert all the other soldiers, black and white, to what's going on inside the hotel. All of the soldiers storm in, ready to avenge Sis. Attention! Soldiers of every shade and hue stop as this voice cuts through the lobby. It's Lieutenant Jim Europe.
He goes on, "Get your hats and coats and leave this place." Quietly, though still glowering at the proprietor, the New Yorkers obediently file outside. With everyone gone, Jim approaches the hotelier, whom he just saved, and asks what happened. The man replies, "That n**** did not take off his hat. And no n**** could come into my place without taking off his hat. And you take off your hat."
Jim slowly pulls off his hat while responding, "I'll take my hat off just to find out one thing. What did Sergeant Sissel do? Did he commit any offense? I told you, he did not take his hat off and I knocked it off. Now you get out of here." Jim holds eye contact and shows no fear as he slowly turns then departs, leaving the man in his hotel in the past. This message is sponsored by Greenlight.
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Between the cool-headed, tactful leadership of Colonel Big Bill Hayward and officers like Lieutenant Big Jim Europe, the cooperation of those locals who reject the mayor and the hoteliers Jim Crow ways, and of course, their own impressive self-restraint,
The men of the 15th New York navigate Spartanburg without a major incident until they leave the southern town on October 24th, 1917. They'll now finish their training over there in France. After weeks of delay in New York, the men depart aboard the Pocahontas on December 13th. They arrive in Brest, France on New Year's Day, 1918. And man, do they make an entrance.
Once on shore, Big Bill has Big Jim strike up the regimental band to play the French national anthem, the Marseillaise. The lieutenant's ragtime and jazz-influenced arrangement is so lively, it takes the French sailors and soldiers here a solid eight to ten bars to even recognize it. Delatedly, they snap to attention, but mon dieu, do they love this sound.
The 15th then squeezes into train cars to head to Saint-Nazaire, shivering the whole way in overcoats that do little to keep out the cold. Arriving the next morning at their new camp in shacks no better than those they left in Spartanburg, they find out exactly how they'll serve their country: with tools, not rifles. Yes, like so many black soldiers past and present, the 15th appears to be relegated to manual labor.
The men spend these early days in France clearing out a swamp to prepare the way for a hospital and laying 500 miles of track to speed up the services of supplies movement of goods. The work is essential, but those doing it never properly receive their due, not even from themselves.
As General James Harbord will later say after taking over the struggling Services of Supply, aka the SOS, veterans, in their reminiscences, deal with blood and thunder rather than with handling freight and manipulating gantry cranes. The heroes suppose themselves to have been exclusively employed at the front."
So knowing that his men will never get the chance to shine in this capacity, Colonel Big Bill Hayward writes to the American Expeditionary Force Commander, General Black Jack Pershing, on February 1st, 1918, to point out that his men are trained for and want combat. But unbeknownst to Big Bill, Black Jack is already actively discussing the 15th with both Washington, D.C. and his French counterpart, General Philippe Pétain. Together, these chats will change the 15th New York's name and destiny.
Let's follow both. Starting with the U.S. military's internal discussion, Blackjack and the Army Chief of Staff in D.C. intend to combine Black units to create a Black division, the 93rd. According to this plan, the 15th New York and the 8th Illinois will now be designated as the 369th and the 370th regiments, respectively, and added to this division with two other Black regiments, the 371st and the 372nd.
They are intended to serve as quote unquote, "infantry pioneers," which is to say they're destined for labor or were until Blackjack had a different discussion with French Commander in Chief, Philippe Pétain. As we've seen since episode 133, the years long worn out British and French armies aren't only running on fumes, they're also running out of men.
Thus, both have tried to convince Blackjack not to organize a proper U.S. Army, but to plug his doughboys into their depleted forces, an idea known as amalgamation. Now, we know that Blackjack will lend divisions to both in emergencies, but doing so indefinitely is and will continue to be a hard no in the long run as American leaders understand the political value of having a proper national army. Or at least it's a hard no regarding white troops.
On January 6th, 1918, Blackjack offers Philippe Pétain the new 93rd Division's four black regiments, including the 15th New York slash the 369th, for training and service. The Frenchman gladly and quickly accepts. So what's going on here? Blackjack owes his very nickname to his time leading black soldiers in the American West. He said good things about those men. So why is he so willing to let these black soldiers go?
This is hardly the "shoulder to shoulder" that Dr. Du Bois had called for when encouraging Black Americans to enlist in the US Army. Well, as we've seen in this very episode, the realities of Jim Crow politics means that Blackjack can't send Black and White soldiers into battle shoulder to shoulder. He can't give these battle-hungry and deserving men the opportunity to prove themselves in a fight unless it's outside the American command structure.
Now, the British are of no help here, as they likewise only allow black and aboriginal soldiers to fill labor positions. But the French, ah, they have no issue standing, fighting, and dying side by side with black men. This isn't to say that France's colonial empire is free of race issues, but the French people do not share the American concept of a quote-unquote color line.
Not at all. French soldiers, the Poilus, have been serving with North African and Sub-Saharan troops for years and welcome any able-bodied man of any color willing to shoot Germans. This situation certainly isn't fair to the brave Americans of the 369th, or any black regiment for that matter. There are linguistic and cultural struggles to come, and Noble Sissel will later note that, quote, everything American was taken from us except our uniform, close quote.
But given American segregation, Black Americans' desire to fight, and France's willingness to let them fight, this is Black Jack's way, as historian Richard Fogarty puts it, "to satisfy both French military leaders and African Americans." But these conversations are going on without Colonel Bill Hayward's knowledge, and he's hardly going to sit around and wait.
Instead, the enterprising colonel is concocting his own plan to get his troops out of the docks and rail yards. And to do that, he sees but one answer, Lieutenant Jim Europe and that world-class regimental band. It's sometime after 9:00 PM, February 12th, 1918.
We're in Nantes, France, seated inside the gorgeous, neoclassical, Corinthian-columned Théâtre d'Asselin, listening to the 369th's Gifted Musicians play. Thanks to Colonel Bill Hayward's persistence, Lieutenant Jim Europe is leading the regimental band here tonight as it plays for a mixed military and civilian crowd in celebration of Abraham Lincoln's 109th birthday. The audience sits in contemplative silence as the band plays a southern melody,
Until the piece ends, that is. Now the standing room only crowd roars its approval, whistling, clapping, and generally going wild. It's the same story as the band plays various other numbers, including John Philip Sousa's famous piece, Stars and Stripes Forever. Captain Arthur Little watches and beams with pride as he sees this and will later write, I doubt if any first night or special performance at the Metropolitan Opera House in New York ever had a more brilliant audience.
But now, it's really time to bring the house down. It's time for Jim Europe's take on the Memphis Blues. Standing before the regimental band's world-class black musicians, Jim's whole body relaxes as he half closes his eyes. The band does likewise. And then, Jim's baton comes crashing down and, well, I'll let Noble Sissel tell it. Take it, sis.
The baton came down with a swoop that brought forth a soul-rousing crash. Both director and musicians seemed to forget their surroundings. They were lost in scenes and memories. Cornette and clarinet players began to manipulate notes in that typical rhythm, that rhythm which no artist has ever been able to put down on paper. As the drummers struck their stride, their shoulders began shaking in time to their syncopated raps.
Then, it seemed, the whole audience began to sway. Dignified French officers began to pat their feet along with the American general, who, temporarily, had lost his style and grace. Lieutenant Europe was no longer the Lieutenant Europe of a moment ago, but once more Jim Europe, who a few months ago rocked New York with his syncopated baton. His body swayed. The audience, the jazz germ, hit them.
You said it, sis. The jazz germ did hit them. The whole concert hall explodes with approval. Sis will later speculate that Colonel Bill Hayward brought the band simply to infect the French with, quote unquote, ragtime-itis. Perhaps he's right. The band's raising morale and the regiment's prestige, but also the French are really taking to Jim Europe's ragtime and jazz sounds as the 369th Regimental Band plays across the country over the next week.
More than that, as historian Richard Slotkin argues in his book, Lost Battalions, Jim, quote, made the case that the most distinctively American music is African American music, close quote. But after a month in Aix-les-Bains, the band's tour ends on March 16th, 1918.
That evening, Jerry Reynolds informs the audience that, Tomorrow, these men, who for a month have given us so much pleasure, proceed to the front lines. The heartbroken people of Aix answer with tears and booing. They don't want the band to leave. Traveling by train, the band rejoins the rest of their regiment in the towns of Herpon and Herpine, about 40 miles west of Verdun.
Here, the regiment's 68 officers and 2,498 soldiers train with the French Lebel rifle. Its magazine only holds three rounds, a significant downgrade from the American Model 1903 Springfield's capacity of five. From arms to helmets, French equipment only reinforces the regiment's feelings of rejection from their own.
To quote Big Bill Hayward, writing to a fellow colonel back in Spartanburg, There are no American troops anywhere near us. We are les enfants perdus, the lost infants. And glad of it, our great American general simply put the black orphan in a basket, set it on the doorstep of the French, pulled the bell, and went away. Close quote.
Nevertheless, Bill also writes that he's grateful to the French for their kind welcome and finds comforts in the words of Acts 4.11 from the good book. The stone which was rejected by the builder has become the cornerstone. That said, the men of the 369th aren't entirely without a sense of their American identity. In time, they'll get their helmets back. They also keep their American uniforms with the most American of insignias, a don't tread on me Gadsden flag invoking coiled serpent.
This is the origin of one of their nicknames, the Rattlers. In fact, this is their preferred term, that or the old 15th. Oh, and their least favorite? The one history will remember them by, the 369th. But by early April, there's no more time to worry about equipment. The 369th's training has come to an end. On April 13th, they march out as the band plays those familiar tunes, the Marseillaise and Stars and Stripes Forever.
In this moment, Noble Sissel reflects on the centuries of Black patriots who've preceded him. From Crispus Attucks to the 54th Massachusetts and those brave Buffalo soldiers who fought beside Theodore Roosevelt at the Battle of San Juan Hill. His chest swells with pride as he looks at his fellow Black soldiers and thinks of them in that long tradition. He's right to do so. This unit is but weeks away from proving its place among these American heroes.
It's a warm, still dark summer's morning, not quite 3 a.m., May 15th, 1918. Short, wiry and young Henry Johnson and his fellow Rattler, teenage Needham Roberts, are at the front near Montplaisir, France. They have the night watch and are manning post-29 while their corporal and two others sleep in a nearby dugout. Truthfully, these two Rattlers are pretty tired themselves, but someone has to stay alert.
The German line is only 200 to 300 yards away. Suddenly, their quiet night's watch is interrupted. Needham thinks he heard something, but did he? Both men listen intensely. Damn it. Yeah, that's something all right. No time to waste. One fires a flare into the still dark sky as the other shouts out, Corporal of the Guard! Grenades come flying. Their explosions wound both Henry and Needham while sealing up the dugout in which the corporal and two other men were sleeping.
Ears ringing, side and left legs stinging, Henry scrambles to his feet as Needham, immobilized and covered in blood, throws grenades at their foe. No longer worried about stealth, Germans come rushing through the trench. Henry grabs his Lebel rifle and fires into the lead assailant. But almost immediately, Henry's out. Damn this rifle and it's three rounds! Before he can blink, another Bosch soldier is leaping forward while raising a Luger pistol.
Thinking quickly, short and wiry Henry takes his laval by the barrel and swings it at this second attacker, striking him in the head with the rifle's butt and knocking the man to the ground. Henry glances toward Needham. Two Germans have picked him up and are carrying the injured New Yorker off as a captive, but not while Henry's breathing.
Pulling his bolo knife, the scrawny yet fierce American leaps onto the back of the man grabbing Edom's arms and plunges the nine-inch blade into the man's skull all the way to the hilt. Henry retracts the blade from the lifeless, collapsing body and turns around just in time to find the fritz that he clubbed is back on his feet, covered in blood and grinning. The man fires three rounds at Henry, two of which find their mark, striking the New Yorker in the shoulder and thigh.
Henry drops to his knees as the German gleefully closes in. But once he is in close, Henry thrusts his bolo into the man's gut so forcefully, the German's feet nearly leave the ground. This last scene is enough for the German raiding party. Despite their far superior numbers, they flee from the trench and away from this wounded, shot up, yet seemingly unstoppable bolo knife wielding man of the 369th.
The terrified Boche soldiers leave both grievously injured New Yorkers in the trench, disappearing into no man's land as Henry, bleeding from several places, continues to call for support. Reinforcements arrive just as he loses consciousness. Henry Johnson and Needham Roberts are still breathing when Lieutenant Richard Pratt and Combat Group 28 reach them sometime after 3 a.m. on the morning of May 15, 1918.
More than that, despite their grievous wounds, both men are soon conscious and even able to handle a debriefing with Captain Arthur Little. Speaking of the captain, he also examines the scene of this wounded duo's incredible engagement, as well as the Germans' escape route, which is easy to do given their trail of blood.
Among his findings are what he calls a terrible mass of flesh and blood, as well as a grenade exploded hole that is, to keep quoting, the size and shape of a five-gallon punch bowl. Yikes. Looks like those Harlem men throw some mean grenades. Between the physical remains and the abandoned weapons and equipment, Arthur's honest guess is that Henry and Needham fought off a minimum of 24 Germans.
As you might imagine, the Battle of Henry Johnson, as New York's leading newspapers dub this superhero-like throwdown in the trenches, is well-received in France and back in the States. Captain Arthur Little recommends both Henry and Needham receive decorations for valor. The French army agrees, awarding both the Croix de Guerre. Meanwhile, promoted to Sergeant, Henry Johnson becomes a full-on celebrity back in the States.
New York trolley cars are plastered with advertisements reading, Sergeant Johnson licked a dozen Germans. How many victory stamps have you licked today? Frankly, the whole regiment gets a PR boost as newspapers start using yet another nickname for the Rattlers of the 15th New York slash 369th. You guessed it, the Harlem Hellfighters. As to its exact origins, oh, that's as murky as the true origins of the Marines' Devil Dogs moniker.
Though it is interesting to make a connection to episode 134 that the American press rolls out both nicknames at roughly the same time. Indeed, the chronological parallels between the Marine Corps and the 369th's growing reputations doesn't end there.
As we know from past episodes, May and June see hard fighting in the midst of the German Spring Offensive, and on June 6th, 1918, the same day that the 4th Marine Brigade faces the deadliest day yet in the history of the Corps at Belleau Wood, the 369th is dealing with a hard-hitting German counterattack on the outskirts of the Argonne Forest.
Legend has it that, as the commanding French general tells Colonel Big Bill Hayward to retreat, the bold Nebraskan refuses, instead proclaiming, "My men never retire. They go forward or they die." Ignoring the bullets that knock off his cap, the colonel then charges forward, ripping off his eagles that indicate his rank as he dashes ahead of Captain Hamilton Fish's K Company and into battle. Too cool to be true? Some think so, but that's how Sergeant John Jamison will remember it.
It's also in the midst of this fight that someone shouts out, "Goddamn, let's go!" And in the process, births the regimental slogan. The tales of bravery in the old 15th, as the Rattlers, or Harlem Hellfighters of the 369th, still prefer to be called, are beyond extensive. There's no shortage of vignettes.
So knowing that we still have a few battlefield World War I episodes ahead, and that we need ample time to discuss this regiment and its men's lives after the war in this episode, I'll point out their bravery not blow by blow, but with a few jaw-dropping metrics. The Rattlers remain on the front lines for an astounding 191 days straight. No other American unit in the war matches this record.
They never lose ground, only gain it. In fact, on November 20th, 1918, they're the first regiment of the Allied armies to reach the Rhine River. But sacrifices accompany that stellar record. Of the roughly 5,000 men that serve in the old 15th throughout the whole war, 12 officers and 267 soldiers are killed in action. Another 15 officers and 722 soldiers are wounded. But not a single man is captured.
And you know, between their never giving an inch of ground or getting captured, it just makes you want to believe that Big Bill actually made his legendary statement, that his men never retire, they go forward, or they die. Because whether or not he did, the idea certainly rings true.
Perhaps that's why France not only awarded 171 of these men a Croix de Guerre individually, but ultimately awarded this valor-recognizing medal to the entire regiment as a whole. Though fighting under the French tricolor rather than the United States stars and stripes, the Harlem Hellfighters have proven themselves to be, if I may borrow a phrase from the New York Herald, first-class Americans.
And you know, I recall the colonel swearing an oath that, when they finally head home, his men would get the greatest parade New York had ever seen. I suppose its greatness is a subjective call, but by God, do they get one. It's about 11 a.m., February 17th, 1919. The Great War's guns have been silent for a few months, but silent is hardly how anyone would describe New York City right now.
The whole city, it seems, has turned out to cheer on and welcome home the old 15th. And what a sight the regiment is to see. With the head of the column now at the corner of Madison Avenue and 23rd Street, each company forms a tight valance. It's an unfamiliar sight in the United States, something the old 15th picked up from the French. And for one last time, Colonel Big Bill Hayward gives the order. Forward march!
Holding their tight formations and stepping in time to Lieutenant Jim Europe's unparalleled regimental band, the men of the 369th, or Old 15th, move forward. With them are some 200 cars carrying their brothers in arms, two injured to march. Men like the famous Sergeant Henry Johnson. They pass through the Victory Arch at 25th Street, then head up Fifth Avenue. As they do, wealthy members of the Union League Club shower money on them.
How tempting those fluttering bills and clattering coins must be to these bellhops, doormen, and otherwise low-paid workers turned soldiers. Yet, as spectating Arthur Davis will later recall, every single soldier, quote, remained the stoic that he had become through having laid his life on the line, survived, and had triumphed over ridicule, deception, ostracism, and belittlement, close quote.
Former Governor Charles Whitman, the man who authorized the regiment, is here. So is newspaper man William Randolph Hearst. But the real highlight is what happens as the regiment reaches 110th Street and prepares to march on Lenox Avenue. Big Bill orders much looser formation, because now it's time for the real homecoming.
It's time to march through Harlem, and the colonel wants every proud parent, waiting sweetheart, and impatient child to see and recognize their loved ones. Jim Europe's band plays a jazzy rendition of "Here Comes My Daddy Now" as the men march into Harlem. How appropriate as mothers, fathers, children, wives, girlfriends, and other loved ones rush out to embrace these soldiers, their sons, husbands, and so much more.
Captain Arthur Little estimates that every fourth man has a woman on his arm. All the while, Sergeant Henry Johnson, still in his car, waving to his adoring fans, is getting smothered in wreaths and roses. Man, what a day. And such progress against Jim Crow in the United States. Captain Arthur Little concludes that, upon the 17th of February, 1919, New York City knew no-collar line.
But unfortunately, this apparent progress is largely an illusion. New York City and the nation at large will soon ensure that all Americans, including the Harlem Rattlers, remember that color line. For both the regiment and many of its individual members, the years ahead are not kind. On February 28th, 1919, the old 15th, the Harlem Rattlers, the 369th, the Harlem Hellfighters, whatever your favorite name for them, are mustered out of the Federal Service.
It will be two and a half years before a 369th Infantry in New York is reformed with federal recognition. This is thanks to the efforts of former Captain Arthur Little, who, in the wake of Colonel Big Bill's departure from the service and return to the law, becomes the new commander. But the regiment will not be eligible for combat. No, once again in the U.S. military, not the French military. They are again classified as Pioneer Infantry, that is, as manual laborers.
Meanwhile, Jim Europe is cut down in his prime. On May 9th, 1919, the on-tour former lieutenant is backstage at Mechanics Hall in Boston when one of his drummers, Herbert Wright, barges in, accusing Jim of not treating him right and making death threats. Herbert then brandishes a knife and leaps forward. Jim and Noble disarm Herbert, but the blade manages to nick Jim in the neck.
Jim goes to the hospital thinking it's a minor cut, but dies only hours later. A tragic loss, one felt by countless Americans, black and white. Our only small consolation is that several recordings of his music will live on, thus preserving some measure of his brilliance and legacy. His dear friend, Noble Sissel, is heartbroken. But Sis will live on, achieving a long and successful career as a singer and actor.
His fame and popularity will continue to grow well into the 1950s as he succeeds Bill Bojangles Robinson as the unofficial mayor of Harlem. And finally, Sis will join his dear friend Jim Europe in the hereafter on December 18th, 1975.
As for young Needham Roberts, the young soldier who, though immobilized by his wounds, continued lobbing grenades as Henry Johnson fought off those Germans, he receives his hero's welcome upon returning to Harlem and is likewise celebrated in his native Trenton, New Jersey. Unfortunately, he appears to struggle with mental health in the following decades and in 1949 is arrested and charged for bothering an eight-year-old girl in a theater. This wrecks Needham and his wife, Iola.
They hang themselves, leaving behind a suicide note proclaiming Needham's innocence. As for his fellow German slain hero, Henry Johnson too enjoys the spotlight initially. That changes after his remarks to a 5,000 strong St. Louis audience on March 28th, 1919. According to the St. Louis Republic, Henry asserts, quote, that the white soldiers were cowards. The war was won by black soldiers, close quote.
Ah, this more or less ends Henry's paid speaking engagements and he quickly disappears from the public record until his death, caused by an enlarged heart on July 1st, 1929. He's buried in Arlington Cemetery and decades later will receive further posthumous recognition.
President Bill Clinton will award him the Purple Heart in 1996. President Barack Obama will award him the Medal of Honor in 2015. And finally, Louisiana's Fort Polk will be renamed Fort Johnson in Henry's honor in 2023. But to keep our focus on the immediate aftermath of the Great War, there's one last Harlem Hellfighter story that speaks to the greatest fears of Black Americans at this point in history. A story which confirms that the color line is indeed still here.
It's the evening of October 2nd, 1919. A short-haired, slender, and handsome mid-20s veteran of the Battle of Chateau-Thierry and the Meuse-Argonne, a Harlem Hellfighter bugler named Leroy Johnston is climbing on a train in Phillips County, Arkansas with his three brothers. Four Johnstons spent the day hunting squirrel, and they planned to drive back to Helena, but were warned of trouble in the area, something to do with black sharecroppers unionizing.
Seems there have been some deaths on both sides. Well, the Johnstons aren't looking for trouble. They're taking this train specifically to avoid it. But before the train departs, officers come aboard the car. The Johnstons are arrested, falsely charged with supplying ammunition to the unionized sharecroppers. Leroy and his three brothers are dragged out to a waiting car and crammed into the back seat, then driven off.
Sources conflict on the details from here. It's possible that, facing a mob some miles down the road, one of Leroy's brothers, a successful dentist, gets his hands on a gun and kills one of the guards. But that's just one version. All we know for sure is that the four Johnstons are riddled with bullets and that their punctured, lifeless bodies are dumped on the side of a country road.
Through no fault of their own, the Johnstons' day of brotherly bonding ended with them adding to the body count of Arkansas' Elaine Race Massacre, itself a murderous chapter within the race-based violence and slaughter of 1919's Red Summer.
The details of this 1919 violence is a story for a later post-war episode. But as one part of history so quickly spills into another, we brush against it as the Johnston brothers' murder effectively highlights the crushing blow many Black Americans feel as they find that valiant service in the Great War hasn't put an end to the lynching and other deadly acts of the Jim Crow era.
Indeed, it is a cruel twist of irony that Leroy survived hard battles and recuperated in a French hospital for nine months, only returning home last July to then die on the side of an Arkansas country road. This don't tread on me, Radler, this goddamn let's go Harlem Hellfighter could survive war in France, but he couldn't survive Jim Crow in the United States.
From the senseless death of Jim Europe to the final days of many of these brave young men of the 15th New York, especially Leroy Johnston, we end this episode on a rather somber note. But that does not diminish the Rattlers' bravery, their service to their nation, or their contribution to the slow, winding path to the still decades-out civil rights movement. Dr. W.E.B. Du Bois foreshadows this, in fact, with his 1919 article entitled Returning Soldiers.
Now, Dr. Du Bois certainly isn't one to pull his punches. Yet, even as he castigates Jim Crow segregation and violence, both of which are growing after World War I, as we'll see in a later episode, he expresses hope that Black Americans, having fought for democracy in France, will now fight for their own place in America's democracy.
And so, we'll conclude with this recognition of the Harlem Hellfighters' legacy that is also a historical primary source look into the views of one of the nation's most influential Black thought leaders of the early 20th century. With no further ado then, here's an excerpt from Dr. Du Bois' Returning Soldiers, read by special guest Ray Christian. We are returning from war. Tens of thousands of Black men were drafted into a great struggle.
We fought gladly and to the last drop of blood for America and her highest ideals. We fought in far off hope for the dominant Southern oligarchy entrenched in Washington. We fought in bitter resignation for the America that represents in gloats and lynching, disenfranchisement, caste brutality, and devilish insult. For this, in the hateful upturning and mixing up things, we were forced by vindictive fate to fight also.
This is the country to which we soldiers of democracy return. This is the fatherland for which we fought. But it is our fatherland. It was right for us to fight. The faults of our country are our faults. Under similar circumstances, we would fight again. But by the God of heaven,
We are cowards and jackasses if now that the war is over we do not marshal every ounce of our brain and brawn to fight a sterner, longer, more unbending battle against the forces of hell in our own land. We return. We return from fighting. We return fighting. Make way for democracy. We saved it in France and by the great Jehovah we will save it in the USA or know the reason why.
