Americans understand that Memorial Day, or "Decoration
Day," as my parents called it, has something to do with honoring the
nation's war dead. It is also a day devoted to picnics, road races,
commencements, and double-headers. But where did it begin, who created it, and
why?
As a nation we are at war now, but for most Americans the
scale of death and suffering in this seemingly endless wartime belongs to other
people far away, or to people in other neighborhoods. Collectively, we are not
even allowed to see our war dead today. That was not the case in 1865.
At the end of the Civil War the dead were everywhere, some
in half buried coffins and some visible only as unidentified bones strewn on
the killing fields of Virginia or Georgia. Americans, north and south, faced an
enormous spiritual and logistical challenge of memorialization. The dead were
visible by their massive absence. Approximately 620,000 soldiers died in the
war. American deaths in all other wars combined through the Korean conflict
totaled 606,000. If the same number of Americans per capita had died in Vietnam
as died in the Civil War, 4 million names would be on the Vietnam Memorial. The
most immediate legacy of the Civil War was its slaughter and how remember it.
War kills people and destroys human creation; but as though
mocking war's devastation, flowers inevitably bloom through its ruins. After a
long siege, a prolonged bombardment for months from all around the harbor, and
numerous fires, the beautiful port city of Charleston, South Carolina, where
the war had begun in April, 1861, lay in ruin by the spring of 1865. The city
was largely abandoned by white residents by late February. Among the first
troops to enter and march up Meeting Street singing liberation songs was the
Twenty First U. S. Colored Infantry; their commander accepted the formal
surrender of the city.
Thousands of black Charlestonians, most former slaves,
remained in the city and conducted a series of commemorations to declare their
sense of the meaning of the war. The largest of these events, and unknown until
some extraordinary luck in my recent research, took place on May 1, 1865.
During the final year of the war, the Confederates had converted the planters'
horse track, the Washington Race Course and Jockey Club, into an outdoor
prison. Union soldiers were kept in horrible conditions in the interior of the
track; at least 257 died of exposure and disease and were hastily buried in a
mass grave behind the grandstand. Some twenty-eight black workmen went to the
site, re-buried the Union dead properly, and built a high fence around the
cemetery. They whitewashed the fence and built an archway over an entrance on
which they inscribed the words, "Martyrs of the Race Course."
Then, black Charlestonians in cooperation with white
missionaries and teachers, staged an unforgettable parade of 10,000 people on
the slaveholders' race course. The symbolic power of the low-country planter
aristocracy's horse track (where they had displayed their wealth, leisure, and influence)
was not lost on the freedpeople. A New York Tribune correspondent
witnessed the event, describing "a procession of friends and mourners as
South Carolina and the United States never saw before."
At 9 am on May 1, the procession stepped off led by three
thousand black schoolchildren carrying arm loads of roses and singing
"John Brown's Body." The children were followed by several hundred
black women with baskets of flowers, wreaths and crosses. Then came black men
marching in cadence, followed by contingents of Union infantry and other black
and white citizens. As many as possible gathering in the cemetery enclosure; a
childrens' choir sang "We'll Rally around the Flag," the "Star-Spangled
Banner," and several spirituals before several black ministers read from
scripture. No record survives of which biblical passages rung out in the warm
spring air, but the spirit of Leviticus 25 was surely present at those burial
rites: "for it is the jubilee; it shall be holy unto you… in the year of
this jubilee he shall return every man unto his own possession."
Following the solemn dedication the crowd dispersed into
the infield and did what many of us do on Memorial Day: they enjoyed picnics,
listened to speeches, and watched soldiers drill. Among the full brigade of
Union infantry participating was the famous 54th Massachusetts and the 34th and
104th U.S. Colored Troops, who performed a special double-columned march around
the gravesite. The war was over, and Decoration Day had been founded by African
Americans in a ritual of remembrance and consecration. The war, they had boldly
announced, had been all about the triumph of their emancipation over a
slaveholders' republic, and not about state rights, defense of home, nor merely
soldiers' valor and sacrifice.
According to a reminiscence written long after the fact,
"several slight disturbances" occurred during the ceremonies on this
first Decoration Day, as well as "much harsh talk about the event locally
afterward." But a measure of how white Charlestonians suppressed from
memory this founding in favor of their own creation of the practice later came
fifty-one years afterward, when the president of the Ladies Memorial
Association of Charleston received an inquiry about the May 1, 1865 parade. A
United Daughters of the Confederacy official from New Orleans wanted to know if
it was true that blacks had engaged in such a burial rite. Mrs. S. C. Beckwith
responded tersely: "I regret that I was unable to gather any official
information in answer to this." In the struggle over memory and meaning in
any society, some stories just get lost while others attain mainstream
dominance.
Officially, as a national holiday, Memorial Day emerged in
1868 when General John A. Logan, commander-in-chief of the Grand Army of the
Republic, the Union veterans organization, called on all former northern
soldiers and their communities to conduct ceremonies and decorate graves of
their dead comrades. On May 30, 1868, when flowers were plentiful, funereal
ceremonies were attended by thousands of people in 183 cemeteries in
twenty-seven states. The following year, some 336 cities and towns in
thirty-one states, including the South, arranged parades and orations. The
observance grew manifold with time. In the South Confederate Memorial Day took
shape on three different dates: on April 26 in many deep South states, the
anniversary of General Joseph Johnston's final surrender to General William T.
Sherman; on May 10 in South and North Carolina, the birthday of Stonewall
Jackson; and on June 3 in Virginia, the birthday of Jefferson Davis.
Over time several American towns, north and south, claimed
to be the birthplace of Memorial Day. But all of them commemorate cemetery
decoration events from 1866. Pride of place as the first large scale ritual of
Decoration Day, therefore, goes to African Americans in Charleston. By their
labor, their words, their songs, and their solemn parade of flowers and
marching feet on their former owners' race course, they created for themselves,
and for us, the Independence Day of the Second American Revolution.
The old race track is still there — an oval roadway in
Hampton Park in Charleston, named for Wade Hampton, former Confederate general
and the white supremacist Redeemer governor of South Carolina after the end of
Reconstruction. The lovely park sits adjacent to the Citadel, the military
academy of South Carolina, and cadets can be seen jogging on the old track any
day of the week. The old gravesite dedicated to the "Martyrs of the Race
Course" is gone; those Union dead were reinterred in the 1880s to a
national cemetery in Beaufort, South Carolina. Some stories endure, some
disappear, some are rediscovered in dusty archives, the pages of old
newspapers, and in oral history. All such stories as the First Decoration Day
are but prelude to future reckonings. All memory is prelude.