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Golden Tigers Made of Steel (a Black History footnote) February 28, 2023

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Many blessings to those observing and/or preparing for Lent. Peace and ease to all during this “Season for Non-violence” and all other seasons!

This is a special post for February 12th. The “Season for Non-violence” theme for February 12th is “humility” – and this post is essentially two servings of “humble pie.” WARNING: Although not explicit, this post does contain a summary of a disturbing part of U. S. history.

“In 1982, a woman of thirty, doing just fine in Washington, D.C., let me know how things are in her precincts. ‘I can’t relate to World War Two. It’s in schoolbook texts, that’s all. Battles that were won, battles that were lost. Or costume dramas you see on TV. It’s just a story in the past. It’s so distant, so abstract. I don’t get myself up in a bunch about it.’

It appears that the disremembrance of World War Two is as disturbingly profound as the forgettery of the Great Depression: World War Two, an event that changed the psyche as well as the face of the United States and of the World”

– quoted from the oral recollections of Captain Lowell Steward, 100th Fighter Squadron, 332nd Fighter Group in “Flying High: Lowell Steward” in BOOK THREE of “The Good War” – An Oral History of World War II by Studs Terkel

Today I offer an apology (with an explanation) and an explanation (that is also an apology of sorts). First, I apologize to any e-mail subscribers who would not have seen that I updated the banner and title on the last Black History post to indicate that that post covered February 11th and 12th.  After doing a lot more research than I initially intended, I realized that it really was more than one post, covering two days. Also, I was not super excited about where I would have gone if I posted a separate February 12th note unrelated to the events I had already covered. Ergo, I updated the banner and the title and I was just going to leave it at that.

Then, however, I looked back at my notes and realized I needed a footnote – which is where the explanation that is also an apology comes in.

When I decided to post these “Black History notes,” I made the decision to focus on accomplishments made by African Americans (rather than on things done to African Americans) and on people who thrived (not just merely survived). So, focusing on what some people would call “Black Excellence.” If you read even one of these notes, I think you’ll notice what I said at the beginning of the month: every demographic in America is making history every day. I think you’ll also notice that every individual aspiration that becomes inspiration involves a struggle to survive – sometimes the struggle is about the dream surviving; sometimes the struggle is about the dreamer of surviving. Ultimately, however, I wanted these notes to be about the history-making inspirations related to each day.

All that said, I’m adding this footnote. I’m adding this footnote, because I want to mention something tangentially related to yesterday’s posts. It’s not a footnote because it lacks importance – and I apologize, because I know it may come across that way. It’s a footnote simply because it doesn’t fit the paradigm I established for myself (and because I’m not going to go into too many details).

“Institutions, like individuals, are properly judged by their ideals, their methods, and their achievements in the production of men and women who are to do the world’s work.”

– quoted from “Tuskegee And Its People: General Introduction” by Booker T. Washington, as printed in Tuskegee & Its People: Their Ideals and Achievements by Emmett Jay Scott, edited by Booker T. Washington

Established on July 4, 1881, as the Tuskegee Normal School for Colored Teachers, Tuskegee University has had several names – including the Tuskegee Institute. It is one of the many institutions of higher learning established in the United States by virtue of the Morrill Acts, the first of which was signed by President Abraham Lincoln on July 2, 1862, and it is one of the Historically Black Universities and Colleges (HBCUs) established before the Civil Rights Act of 1964. The campus (in Tuskegee, Alabama) was designed by Robert Robinson Taylor, the first African American to graduate from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT, class of 1892), and David Williston, the first professionally trained African American landscape architect, who earned an undergraduate degree from Howard University (another HBCU) before becoming the first African American to earn a degree in agriculture from Cornell University (1898).

In addition to the campus’ designers, notable members of Tuskegee’s faculty and staff have included Booker T. Washington, George Washington Carver, Josephine Turpin Washington, and Nathaniel Oglesby Calloway (PhD). Notable alumni* include Amelia Boynton Robinson, Alice Marie Coachman, The Commodores (including Lionel Richie), Milton C. Davis, Ralph Ellison, Lonnie Johnson (PhD), Betty Shabazz (Ed.D.), Danielle Spencer, and Keenen Ivory Wayans – as well as the microbiologists George C. Royal (PhD), Gladys W. Royal (PhD), and Jessica A. Scoffield (PhD). There is a much much longer list of notable faculty, staff, and alumni; however, even if you’ve only heard of half of them, there’s a good chance the reason you’ve heard of Tuskegee Institute has nothing to do with the majority of them. Many people – even here in the United States – have heard about the university for two reasons: the “experiments.”

I put “experiments” in quotes, because people don’t always think about both situations as experiments or studies. However, officially (according to the government and some of the people involved), there were two experiments conducted at Tuskegee between 1932 and 1972: a medical one conducted by the U.S. Public Health Service (beginning in 1932) and a military one conducted by the U. S. Army Air Corps (beginning in 1941). The medical study was the “The Study of Untreated Syphilis in the Negro Male in Macon County, Alabama” – which would later be known simply as the “Tuskegee Syphilis Study” – and it’s involuntary “participants” are still nameless to most people in the general population. The military study was (mostly) voluntary and officially called the “Tuskegee Experiment” (now renamed the “Tuskegee Experience”). While you may not the names of the individual men involved, you’ve probably heard of them: they are known as the Tuskegee Airmen.

“There should be no limit placed upon the development of any individual because of color, and let it be understood that no one kind of training can safely be prescribed for an entire race. Care should be taken that racial education be not one-sided for lack of adaptation to personal fitness, nor unwieldy through sheer top-heaviness. Education, to fulfil its mission for any people anywhere, should be symmetrical and sensible.”

– quoted from “Tuskegee And Its People: General Introduction” by Booker T. Washington, as printed in Tuskegee & Its People: Their Ideals and Achievements by Emmett Jay Scott, edited by Booker T. Washington

Julius Rosenwald and Booker T. Washington were two men from very different backgrounds who had similar ideas about what their country needed to move forward. In the early 1900’s, their collaboration led to the construction of the Tuskegee campus and several other schools in Alabama. When educators in other states heard about the collaboration, they wanted in on the action – and so it began. The initial agreement (up until about 1920) was that Mr. Rosenwald would fund the construction of the “Rosenwald Schools” and Tuskegee faculty, staff, and students would design, build, and train. When Booker T. Washington died (in 1915), the part-owner and president of Sears, Roebuck and Company continued his philanthropic endeavor. He and his family established the Rosenwald Fund (also known as the Rosenwald Foundation, the Julius Rosenwald Fund, and the Julius Rosenwald Foundation) for “the well-being of mankind.” 

The Rosenwald Fund was a “sunset” fund, meaning that rather than establishing equity and funding projects with the interest, it had an end date. From it’s establishment in 1917, until 1948, it donated over $70 million to public schools, colleges and universities, museums, Jewish charities, and African American institutions. The fund also issued open-ended fellowships to minority artists, writers, scientists, journalists, and civic leaders. Unlike the individuals who received fellowships, communities, organizations, and states that received grants were expected to match some (or all) of the funds and also had to employ people within the communities being served. So, each project was an investment and a collaboration.

On March 29, 1941, a trustee of the Rosenwald Fund went to Tuskegee, Alabama; had her picture taken as she sat in a Piper J-3 Cub, between the “Father of Black Aviation,” chief civilian instructor C. Alfred “Chief” Anderson, and another African American (civilian) pilot; and then went for a ride that lasted at least 60 minutes. You might have heard of this trustee: her name was Eleanor Roosevelt. Never one to let her power and privilege go to waste, the First Lady of the United States used her position as a trustee to arrange a loan of $175,000 to help finance the building of Moton Field – which was named after Tuskegee’s second principal (Robert Russa Moton); designed by David Williston (see above); and would become the home of the 99th Pursuit Squadron Training School. She would also maintain correspondence with some of the pilots for years.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself – because all of this happened several years after civilian pilots were being trained at Tuskegee Institute and several months after the military experiment began. And, yes, I’m starting with the Airmen; because their story is a little easier to tell (and a little easier to swallow).

“The United States entered the Great War on April 6, 1917, and later that year, Bullard, with other Americans of the Lafayette Flying Corps, applied for a transfer to the U. S. Army Air Corps, understanding that all that was required for a pilot to receive a commission as an officer was an application and a physical examination.

The American doctors who conducted Ballard’s physical in Paris in October 1917 questioned him about his flight training before his health. The physical showed that he had flat feet. ‘I explained that… I did not fly with my feet.’ They told him he had large tonsils. ‘To this I replied that I was… not an opera singer.’ Finally he was told that he had passed the examination.

The other American flyers were transferred to the American Army Air Corps, one after the another, while Bullard received no word. At last he realized that all the other flyers were white.”

“The discrimination hurt Bullard deeply, but he derived some comfort from the knowledge that he was able to fight on the same front and in the same cause as his fellow American citizens. ‘And so in a roundabout way, I was managing to do my duty and to serve my country,’ Bullard later wrote.” 

– quoted from the profile “Eugene Jacques Bullard” in Distinguished African Americans in Aviation and Space Science by Betty Kaplan Gubert, Miriam Sawyer, and Caroline M. Fannin

In some ways, we could say that the story of the military study at Tuskegee predates the story of the medical study; because the story of the Tuskegee Airmen is rooted in the story of men like Eugene James Bullard. When the “Black Swallow” couldn’t fly for the United States during World War I – even after being a decorated combat pilot in France – and other Black men were not even given a fighting chance to apply, the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) and civil rights activists like A. Philip Randolph (one of the organizers of the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters) started advocating get more  more “Black wings” in the air. They were joined by Judge William H. Hastie, who would go on to become the first (openly and obviously) African American to serve as Governor of the United States Virgin Islands, but who spent part of World War II working as as a civilian aide to Henry Stimson, the United States Secretary of War.

Due to continuous pressure, the United States Congress passed Appropriations Bill Public Law 18 (on April 3, 1939), which specifically designated funds for training African American pilots. The War Department, backed by Congress, funneled the funds into the pre-existing Civilian Pilot Training Program (CPTP), which was administered by the Civil Aeronautics Authority when it was established in 1938, and had been available at Tuskegee Institute since 1939. But, at the time, the War Department was not planning to hire any CPTP pilots, regardless of their race, ethnicity, and/or gender (noted because CPTP even had women instructors). A few months later, however, with the beginning of World War II, the War Department started looking at CPTP as a resource for pilots – but, they were only interested in certain pilots.

In the fall of 1940, Congress passed (and President Franklin Delano Roosevelt signed) the Selective Training and Service Act of 1940, which required men of a certain age to register for the draft and for all departments of the military to enlist those men, regardless of race. This essentially forced the United States Army Corp – which was on the verge of rebranding as the United States Army Air Forces (USAAF or AAF) – to announce that they were already working with Civil Aeronautics Authority (later known as the Civil Aeronautics Board (CAB)) . They did not, however, announce that they were fully prepared to roll out all-Black squadrons, that would have white officers – like the other segregated forces of the time. They had no intention of doing such a thing, because the decision-makers believed a 1925 “study” which indicated that African Americans were not mentally, physically, emotionally, and/or energetically qualified to fly or maintain regular planes – let alone fighter planes. But, they had no proof and so, someone in the War Department had the “brilliant” idea to use Congress’ mandate to prove, once and for all, that African Americans did not have the right stuff.

“It was a tremendous success, beyond their wildest dreams. So they established quotas. They were gettin’ so many volunteers for the air force, qualified young men, that they had to limit the size of the classes. They had so many pilots graduating, in spite of Washington washing pilots out of flying school for ridiculous reasons, such as not wearing your hat on straight or not saying ‘Yes, sir’ to one of the instructors. You got washed out because of attitude, not flying ability. One fellow that washed out in advanced training as a pilot was hired two weeks later as a flying instructor. (Laughs.)

Mayor Coleman Young of Detroit, who was one of the Tuskegee Airmen, recalls: ‘I was washed out as a fighter pilot. I’m told it was because of FBI intervention. I had already graduated from officers’ school in October of ’42, at Fort Benning. They literally pulled guys off the stage, ’cause FBI, Birmingham, was accusin’ them of subversion, which may have been attendin’ a YMCA meeting in protest against discrimination.’”

– quoted from the oral recollections of Captain Lowell Steward, 100th Fighter Squadron, 332nd Fighter Group in “Flying High: Lowell Steward” in BOOK THREE of “The Good War” – An Oral History of World War II by Studs Terkel

By the time the general public heard that African Americans were going to serve as pilots, the War Department and the United States Army Corp had already implemented exclusionary policies and employed psychologists to administer standardized tests to quantify IQ, dexterity, and leadership qualities that would best serve each role. They also adjusted the qualification specifications as an additional barrier to entry. However, they grossly underestimated the intelligence, courage, and physical ability, as well as the sheer will and determination of men like the Golden Tigers from Tuskegee University. They also completely discounted the fact that most of the men who showed up to be tested were already civilian pilots who had trained (and, in some cases taught) through CPTP and the fact that the Tuskegee pilots who passed the test did so at higher rates than at other Southern schools.

There was another thing they did not consider: the cadets were prepared for the fact that many people in the government and in the military were working against them. So, as the upper echelon of the military ran their intelligence “study,” the pilots and their supporters were running a counterintelligence operation, one that ensured there would be “Black wings” in the air. The NAACP and the Black media rallied behind the pilots. The pilots kept showing up for training.

In what some people considered a purely political move, President Roosevelt’s public announcement about African American pilots came around the same time that Benjamin O. Davis, Sr. was promoted, becoming the first Black brigadier general in the Army, and that Judge Hastie was named as the advisor to Secretary of War Stimson. A few months later, on March 22, 1941, the first set of enlisted cadets started training to be mechanics in (at Chanute Field in Illinois). This was the beginning of the 99th Pursuit Squadron (later designated as the 99th Fighter Squadron) – and there was not a single person designated as a pilot by the military. Soon after the mechanical training began, Elmer D. Jones, Dudley Stevenson, and James Johnson (all from Washington, DC); Nelson Brooks (from Illinois); and William R. Thompson (from Pittsburgh, PA) were admitted to the Officers Training School (OTS) at Chanute Field. These were the first aviation cadets on the officer track and they would successfully complete OTS and be commissioned as the first Black Army Air Corps Officers. Then came that famous visit from First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt and her very public statements that they were “good pilots.”

“The days at Tuskegee have given me much to think about. To see a group of people working together for improvement of undesirable conditions is very heartening. The problems seem great, but at least they are understood and people are working on them. Dr. Carver, whom I saw for a few minutes, has been at work for many years; and our hosts, the present heads of Tuskegee, Dr. [Frederick Douglass Patterson] and Mrs. [Catherine Moton] Patterson, are ably carrying on the work.” 

– quoted from “My Day” (events from Monday, March 13, 1941) by Eleanor Roosevelt

Brigadier General Davis, Sr.’s son, Benjamin O. Davis, Jr., had followed in his father’s footsteps. Although, their paths’ were slightly different (because times had changed a little bit). Both men served with the Buffalo Soldiers – Sr. as an enlisted man, Jr. as an officer. Both men were initially commissioned as second lieutenants – Jr. in 1932, when he became the fourth African American man to graduate from the U. S. Military Academy (West Point); Sr. in 1901, after Lieutenant Charles Young (the third African American to graduate from West Point, class of 1889) encouraged him to take the officer candidate officer test. Both men were eventually assigned to teach military science and tactics at Tuskegee – so that they would not be seen as senior to white recruits. While Benjamin O. Davis, Jr. had applied to the Army Air Corps while he was at West Point – and been rejected because of race – the changes in regulations meant a change in his trajectory. On July 19, 1941, Captain Benjamin O. Davis, Jr. and twelve more aviation cadets begin their primary flight training.

By November, only Captain Davis, Jr. and four cadets we going through basic and advanced training courses at Tuskegee Army Air Field. Captain Davis Jr. of D. C.; Captain George S. Roberts of London, Virginia; 2nd Lt. Charles DeBow Jr. of Indianapolis, Indiana; 2nd Lt. Mac Ross of Selma, Alabama; and 2nd Lt. Lemuel R. Custis of Hartford, Connecticut became the first African American combat fighter pilots in the U.S. military. Captain Benjamin O. Davis, Jr. was promoted to lieutenant colonel soon after they graduated and. over the course of World War II, the five would serve as leadership for the 332nd Fighter Group (in particular, for the 99th Pursuit Squadron (later designated as the 99th Fighter Squadron), the 301st Fighter Squadron, and the 100th Fighter Squadron).

“I was brainwashed as a child that I would not be able to fly. This is what I wanted to do when I was a little kid. At Tuskegee, they assembled black men from all over the United States to go into this flying school. They recruited All-American athletes. They had mathematical geniuses. They had ministers, doctors, lawyers, farm boys, all down there trying to learn to fly. All the fellows we were with were of top notch caliber.

According to Mayor Coleman Young, ‘They set up this Jim Crow Air Forces OCS School in Tuskegee. They made the standards so damn high, we actually became an elite group. We were screened and super-screened. We were unquestionably the brightest and most physically fit young blacks in the country. We were super better because of the irrational laws of Jim Crow. You can’t bring that many intelligent young people together and train ’em as fighting men and expect them to supinely roll over….’”

– quoted from the oral recollections of Captain Lowell Steward, 100th Fighter Squadron, 332nd Fighter Group in “Flying High: Lowell Steward” in BOOK THREE of “The Good War” – An Oral History of World War II by Studs Terkel

In the air, they would be recognized by their Red Tails. But, at first, they just waited. Because, even after the United States entered World War II, the Army had no intention of sending the Tuskegee Airmen into combat. More pilots and ground crew were trained, and each unit was deployed to somewhere in the United States. Once again, their supporters stepped in. Judge William H. Hastie resigned as the civilian aid to the War Department, bringing public awareness to the fact that men were serving with distinction, but being treated in a way that was unbecoming of the military. First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt stepped also in to advocate for the pilots. Finally, in April 1943, some of the Tuskegee Airmen were sent to North Africa. The assignment was designed to limit their contact with the Axis forces, so they could be deemed superfluous. Eventually, however, they proved themselves – but, even that wasn’t enough for the War Department.

In September 1943, Time magazine ran an article leaking the fact that the War Department was planning to disband the Tuskegee Airmen. Colonel Benjamin O. Davis, Jr., commander of the 332nd Fighter Group, publicly stood up for his men and their record. By the end of 1943, some Black pilots had earned medals in combat and more squadrons were being sent overseas. Although they also served as bombardiers, the “Red Tails” became known for their escort record. They would fly 1,578 missions and 15,533 combat sorties.

“According to researcher/historian and DOTA Theopolis W. Johnson, the following information relates to the ‘Tuskegee Experience’:

‘That is…. anyone–man or woman, military or civilian, black or white–who serves at Tuskegee Army Air Field or any of the programs stemming from the “Tuskegee Experience” between the years 1941 and 1949 is considered to be a documented original Tuskegee Airman (DOTA)’”

– quoted from “Tuskegee Experience” as prepared by Ron Brewington, former National Public Relations Officer, Tuskegee Airmen, Inc. (TAI)

As a Tuskegee historian and DOTA, Theopolis W. “Ted” Johnson estimated that 16,000 – 19,000 people were part of the “Tuskegee Experience” – 14,632 of whom he was able to personally document before passing in 2006. This estimate included 929 American pilot graduates, 5 Haitian pilots (from the Haitian Air Force), 11 instructor pilot graduates, and 51 liaison pilot graduates. Based on other estimates, I believe the overall total also includes 1 pilot from Trinidad and at least one Hispanic or Latino airman born in the Dominican Republic. From 1941 until 1946, 84 Tuskegee Airmen were killed overseas (including 80 pilots – 68 of whom were identified as “Killed In Action” or “Missing in Action” (with 30 possible “Prisoners of War”) and 4 enlisted people killed while performing their duties. In addition to a Congressional Gold Medal, awarded to all members of the “Tuskegee Experience,” the Tuskegee Airmen individually and/or collectively received the Presidential Unit Citation (3); Legion of Merit (1); Silver Star (1); Soldier Medal (4); Distinguished Flying Cross (96); Purple Heart (60); Bronze Star (25); Air Medal (1031 = 265 Air Medals + 766 Clusters); and a Red Star of Yugoslavia.

As for the original five Tuskegee officers, all would serve with distinction; be promoted (with Benjamin O. Davis, Jr., eventually becoming the first African American brigadier general in the USAF and being promoted to a four-star general after he retired); and, in some cases, they commanded integrated squadrons. Captain Mac Ross was the only one of the original five who did not make it back home after the war; but, all are remembered and have been honored in a variety of ways.

They were Tuskegee’s Golden Tigers flying “tin cans” with Red Tails, but what really made the difference was that they had will, determination, and hearts of steel. They also had dreams and they thought – hoped and prayed – that their service would make all the difference; that coming home as veterans, heroes, and victors would mean a change in the way they were viewed and they way they were treated in the United States.

Little did they know.

Maybe, if they had known what was going on – literally in their own backyard – they would have had different dreams, hopes, and prayers.

“…I had saved money, was married, and had a little child.

I went to buy a house in Beverly Hills, advertised for sale for veterans. I had the qualifications and the financing. They told me I couldn’t buy it. So I started studying real estate. I’ve been at it thirty years. My main reason for going into real estate was to find a good home for myself. A lot of work I’ve done much of that time was finding neighborhoods and homes that blacks could buy. That’s the way I’ve made a living for thirty years.

World War Two has had a tremendous impact on black people as a whole. There have always been strides for black people after every war, especially that one. But after the war is over, they revert back to bigotry. That war has definitely changed me. Colonel [Edward C.] Gleed and I are just two of the 996 black pilots of World War Two. He’s changed as a career man and I, as a civilian minute man. We helped win the war for our country and now I’m back home.”

– quoted from the oral recollections of Captain Lowell Steward, 100th Fighter Squadron, 332nd Fighter Group in “Flying High: Lowell Steward” in BOOK THREE of “The Good War” – An Oral History of World War II by Studs Terkel

Syphilis is a venereal (i.e., sexually transmitted disease) that was first described by a European physician in the late 1400’s and known as “syphilis” by 1553. Over the centuries, incidence rates waxed and waned – but it was still mostly associated with Europe. All of that changed, however, during World War I when it came back with a vengeance and spread all over the world. By the time World War II started, leaders like President Franklin Delano Roosevelt were pushing for someone to find a solution and a cure. A cure, penicillin, had actually been discovered in 1925 – but, it would be almost two decades before anybody documented using it to cure syphilis. In the meanwhile, a whole bunch of things were tested… and not tested.

In 1929, the Rosenwald Fund decided to fund syphilis treatment pilot programs in five Southern states, including Alabama. In fact, on Wednesday, February 12, 1930, the executive committee of the Rosenwald Fund approved two grants (totaling $10,000) to the Alabama State Board of Health. The bulk of the grants ($7,750) was an outright gift. The second grant ($2,250) was “conditional upon the state’s appropriating of an equal amount toward the salary and expenses of the state v. d. control officer.” For a variety of reasons, Macon County and Tuskegee Institute were chosen as the program site. Testing and recruitment began almost immediately; but the Rosenwald Fund ended their contributions (in 1932) when the state failed to hold up their financial end of the bargain.

But, remember, the United States government was really eager to resolve the syphilis issue and so the study didn’t end when the funds dried up. The U.S. Public Health Service took over and 660 men were promised free medical care, meals, transportation, health care, and burial payments for their widows. This was at a time when many people in the rural South, regardless of ethnicity or race, were too poor to afford healthcare. People were use to making do and pushing through – until the couldn’t – and the primary nurse (a graduate of Tuskegee, who also recruited most of the men) recommended telling the men (including those in the control group, who were not infected) that they had “bad blood.”

The men were not told, however, that intention of the program had changed and that they would not actually receive treatment for their ailment. Nor were they offered penicillin when it started being widely used as a cure in the mid-1940’s. Neither were they told that the U. S. Public Health Service was working with the government in Guatemala to actually infect and “study” Guatemalan citizens (1946 – 1948); nor that the white doctor in charge, John Charles Cutler, also oversaw a “study” where prisoners in the Terre Haute federal penitentiary were being infected with strains of gonorrhea in exchange for $100, a certificate of merit, and a letter of commendation to the parole board. (1943 – 1944). Remember, they weren’t even told that they had syphilis!

“Infection rates soared as a result of the First World War. In the mid-1920s syphilis was killing 60,000 people a year in England and Wales, compared to tuberculosis, which was causing 41,000 deaths a year. An enormous propaganda effort unfolded, led by governments and a whole variety of voluntary associations, for the prevention of sexually transmitted diseases. In the USA, Roosevelt’s New Deal pushed a major public health programme centred [sic] on the disease.”

– quoted from the Microbiology Today [Issue: Sexually transmitted infections (STIs). 21 May 2013] article entitled “Syphilis – The Great Scourge” by Sir Richard Evans, Regius Professor of History and President of Wolfson College, Cambridge

While the other experiments were shut down after a year or two, the “Tuskegee Syphilis Study” continued until 1972 – when a whistleblower’s tip led to a story that appeared in the Washington Star and then landed on the front page of The New York Times. Peter Buxtun, the whistleblower, is a Prague-born American of Jewish and Czechoslovakian descent, who (in his inexperience and naivete) spent several years going through proper government channels in order to report the unethical misconduct endured by the men in Tuskegee. In the four decades of gross misconduct, at least 28 patients died directly from syphilis, 100 died from complications related to syphilis, 40 wives of patients were infected with syphilis, and 19 children were born with congenital syphilis.

The NAACP filed a class action lawsuit on behalf of the men and their descendants. As part of a 1974 settlement, the U. S. government paid the plaintiffs $10 million (the equivalent of $60,683,569.98 in 2022) and agreed to provide free medical treatment to surviving participants and surviving family members infected as a consequence of the study. The settlement also required the government to publicly disclose information about the incident and provide future oversight, which led to the National Research Act of 1974, the creation of the Belmont Report: Ethical Principles and Guidelines for the Protection of Human Subjects of Research, Report of the National Commission for the Protection of Human Subjects of Biomedical and Behavioral Research (issued on September 30, 1978; published in the Federal Register on April 18, 1979.); and the establishment of the National Commission for the Protection of Human Subjects of Biomedical and Behavioral Research, and (eventually) the Office for Human Research Protections (OHRP), which is part of the United States Department of Health and Human Services (DHHS).

While the “Tuskegee Syphilis Study” is one of the worst parts of American history and has created decades upon decades of mistrust within the African American and Southern communities, the aftermath includes oversight that can prevent such extreme (and systematic) disregards of the Hippocratic Oath from ever happening again. Or, at least that is what I would like to believe. I am not suggesting that all medical racism was resolved in the 1970’s – healthcare discrepancies today clearly show that that is not the case – neither am I suggesting that the government is completely transparent when it comes to public health issues. However, I don’t believe what happened in Tuskegee could quietly happen again. Don’t get me wrong: There’s not enough preventing it from happening today. But, today [I believe/hope/pray], someone would speak up… loudly.

Tuskegee University motto: “Scientia Principatus Opera”

– “Knowledge, Leadership, Service”

Practice Notes: See previous note for a practice that would work for a Tuskegee Airman class. As for the rest…

I do not, necessarily, steer away from hard themes. I lead classes on Holocaust Remembrance Day, Martyrs’ Day (which is also the anniversary of Bloody Sunday in Ireland), Sophie Lancaster Day, and the anniversaries of Bloody Sunday (in the U. S.), the Black Wall Street massacre, D-Day, 9/11, Kristallnacht, and Pearl Harbor. But, I also pick and choose what I bring to the mat – and, I apologize, but I don’t think I will ever do a class about the “Tuskegee Syphilis Study.”

“One school is better than another in proportion as its system touches the more pressing needs of the people it aims to serve, and provides the more speedily and satisfactorily the elements that bring them honorable and enduring success in the struggle of life. Education of some kind is the first essential of the young man, or young woman, who would lay the foundation of a career. The choice of the school to which one will go and the calling he will adopt must be influenced in a very large measure by his environments, trend of ambition, natural capacity, possible opportunities in proposed calling, and the means at his command.”

– quoted from “Tuskegee And Its People: General Introduction” by Booker T. Washington, as printed in Tuskegee & Its People: Their Ideals and Achievements by Emmett Jay Scott, edited by Booker T. Washington

*NOTE: Not all of the indicated alumni received their graduate degrees from Tuskegee.

### “Lord, I can’t condemn / The fear that they feel // … For that river of red / Could be the death of me / God, give me strength / And keep reminding me / That blood is thicker than water / Oh, but love is / Thicker than blood” ~GB ###

En L’Air (a special Black History 2.5-for-1 note) February 23, 2023

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Many blessings to those observing and/or preparing for Lent. Peace and ease to all during this “Season for Non-violence” and all other seasons!

This is a special post for February 11th and February 12th. The word for these dates are creativity and humility. You will find both in the stories below.

“‘What was Jake’s last name? Can you tell me?’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t think he had one. He was one of those flying African children. They must all be dead a long time now.’

‘Flying African children?’”

– Milkman and Susan Byrd in Chapter 14 of Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison

According to Orville Wright, the desire to fly is a human birthright “handed down to us by our ancestors” and I easily buy into that idea because I grew up hearing so many stories about flying: from Daedalus and Icarus to Wilbur and Orville Wright and from Amelia Earhart to the Tuskegee Airmen. Then there were stories of  enslaved Africans who, as one of my favorite spirituals indicated, could “fly away.” Later, I would learn that they flew in all the different ways people fly in Toni Morrison’s Song of Solomon. Of course, the history of flight – as it is usually taught in the United States – is very much “his”–story, a story of men in flight. With the exception of those Africans in the song, the Tuskegee Airmen, and Toni Morrison’s characters (and the notable exception, of Ms. Earhart and Pilate), the stories I heard growing up were mostly about white men in flight. Oh, yes, and many of these stories – especially the ones not about white men – ended tragically.

But, what about the stories just regarding women? And, what about the stories that didn’t end tragically? How creative did people have to be to follow their dreams and let their hearts soar?

Well, for many years, women in the United States were only hired as flight attendants (née stewardesses or cabin hostesses) a job that mostly required women to meet a certain beauty standard – and, in America, for a long time, that beauty standard did not include women who were minorities. So, it is no surprise that the first Black person hired as a stewardess was actually African. Her name is Léopoldine Emma Doualla-Bell Smith – and, she had no idea she was making history when she became a stewardess in 1957. In fact, for many years, people would identify Ruth Carol Taylor as the first Black stewardess, because of all the publicity surrounding her maiden flight on February 11, 1958.

“Once there was a princess who made history in the sky…. She loved animals and wanted to be a veterinarian. But her father said women could only be nurses or teachers. Her father was wrong.”

– quoted from the profile of Léopoldine Emma Doualla-Bell Smith in Good Night Stories for Rebel Girls: 100 Real-Life Tales of Black Girl Magic by CaShawn Thompson, edited by Lilly Workneh 

Léopoldine Emma Doualla-Bell Smith is a princess, born into the royal Douala family of Cameroon. In high school, she received ground hostess training for Union Aéromaritime de Transport (UAT) and Air France and then, when she graduated at the age of seventeen, she went to Paris to take flight training. The following year, in 1957, she joined UAT as a “hôtesse de l’air,” In 1960, the same year that UAT merged with Transports Aériens Intercontinentaux to form Union de Transports Aériens (UTA), she was offered a job with Air Afrique, an airline created to service the eleven newly independent French-speaking nations. At the time, the then Miss Doualla-Bell was the only qualified African in French aviation and her employment identification card was No. 001. She was promoted to first cabin chief, but throughout her employment at Air Afrique she faced racism and sexism. Some white customers did not want her to serve them; others acted as if her “service” included sex. In fact, at one point she slapped a customer who touched her inappropriately. The incident. however, did not cost her her job. She retired from Air Afrique in 1969 and became the manager of Reunited Transport Leaders Travel Agency (in Libreville, Gabon) until she relocated to Washington D.C. in 1975.

While studying English at Georgetown University, she her future husband, an American named Leroy Smith. The Smiths moved to Gabon in 1976, at which point Mrs. Doualla-Bell Smith worked as an Air Zaire’s station and officer manager at the Libreville airport and supported the Skal Club (also known as Skal International), an international association that promoted travel and tourism in Africa. Beginning in 1983, the Smiths worked in the Peace Corps – yet, even then, Léopoldine Emma Doualla-Bell Smith kept working in travel and tourism. To this day, as a retiree in Denver, she volunteers at the Denver International Airport and promotes travel and tourism via the company she co-founded with her husband (Business and Intercultural Services for Educational Travel and Associated Learning (BISETAL)).

“Although [Léopoldine Emma Doualla Bell Smith] developed close relationships with some of her fellow flight crewmembers over the years, the racial divide was clear when they stepped off the plane in other countries.

For example, during the days of apartheid in South Africa she was not allowed to walk off the plane with her co-workers. Instead of joining the rest of the crew at a local hotel, once she was covered and whisked away to the home of a fellow employee who lived in the country.”

– quoted from the NBC News story “World’s First Black Flight Attendant Honored: Léopoldine Doualla-Bell Smith, world’s first black flight attendant honored.” (posted online March 15, 2015)

While the young Léopoldine Emma Doualla-Bell Smith didn’t know she was making history in 1957, Ruth Carol Taylor was very intentional in her decision to break the color barrier. She was born in Boston, Massachusetts in December 27, 1931. Her father, William Edison Taylor, was a barber and her mother, Ruth Irene Powell Taylor, was a nurse. The family moved to a farm in upstate New York when Ms. Taylor was young and so she ended up attending Elmira College and then earning a Nursing degree from  Bellevue School of Nursing in New York City. She worked as a registered nurse for several years and then decided to apply to be a stewardess at Trans World Airline (TWA), which rejected her application. Not to be thwarted, she filed a complaint against the company with the New York State Commission on Discrimination and also applied to Mohawk Airlines, a regional carrier, that had publicly expressed interest in hiring minority flight attendants.

About 800 Black women applied to the regional carrier, which hired Ruth Taylor in December of 1957. On February 11, 1958, she flew from Ithaca to New York City and, in the process, became the first African American flight attendant. The flight created so much publicity (and public pressure) that TWA, the airline that had rejected Ms. Taylor, hired Margaret Grant in May 1958. Ms. Grant, who was attending Hunter College at the time, was publicly declared the first African American flight attendant for a major airline carrier. She started training on June 12, 1958, after she graduated; however, she was terminated before she completed the training, because it was discovered that she had sickle cell anemia.

Around the same time Ms. Grant started her training, Ruth Carol Taylor was forced to give up her position, because she married her fiancé Rex Legall (they had been engaged since before she was hired). The couple moved to the British West Indies and then to London, and also had a daughter, before getting a divorce. Ms. Taylor subsequently moved to Barbados, where she created the country’s first professional nursing journal, and had a son, before returning to New York City in 1977. In addition to participating in the Civil Rights Movement, she co-founded the Institute for InterRacial Harmony (IIH), which developed the Racism Quotient Test, to measure racist/colorist attitudes and, in 1985, she wrote The Little Black Book: Black Male Survival in America or Staying Alive and Well in an Institutionally Racist Society.

“…[Ruth Carol Taylor] didn’t take the job because she thought being a flight attendant would be so great. She says she did it to fight discrimination.

‘It wasn’t something that I had wanted to do all my life,’ she tells JET about being a flight attendant. ‘I knew better than to think it was all that glamourous. But it irked me that people were not allowing people of color to apply… Anything like that sets my teeth to grinding.’”

– quoted from the JET Magazine article entitled, “First Black Flight Attendant Is Still Fighting Racism” (printed in the “Labor” section of the May 12, 1997 issue)    

After Ruth Carol Taylor and Margaret Grant in 1958, no other African Americans would be hired by airlines until 1960. Eventually, however, African Americans were employed in every aspect of aviation. A prime example of that is the fact that, on February 12, 2009, then Captain Rachelle Jones Kerr, First Officer Stephanie Grant, and Flight Attendants Robin Rogers and Diana Galloway became the first all African American commercial flight crew. Their historic flights (on Atlantic Southeast Airlines flights #5202 and #5106, between Atlanta and Nashville) were not planned; they happened because someone called in sick. Still, the odds of everything falling into place as it did were pretty low considering there were less Black women licensed to fly then than there are now; and now, there are still less than 1%.

There are several initiatives to change the overall landscape. For instance, women have operated Delta Air Lines’ WING program (Women Inspiring the Next Generation) since 2015. The program introduces school-aged girls to jobs in science, technology, engineering and math (STEM) via flights fully staffed by women. This means that the students get to see women are working as pilots, flight attendants, ticket agents, baggage handlers, air traffic controllers, ground crew, and Transportation Security Administration (TSA) agents.

In 2016, former U. S. Coast Guard pilot Angel Hughes and United Airlines pilot Nia Gilliam-Wordlaw organized a meeting that would become Sisters of the Skies (SOS), “a nationally recognized [non-profit] organization focused on increasing the number of black female pilots in professional flight decks in both military and commercial aviation.” SOS holds networking conferences, provides mentors for aspiring pilots, and also offers scholarships.

“When we got to the gate in Nashville, and all of the passengers were off, we asked the gate agent would she take our picture. So we stuffed ourselves in the galley and one by one, she took our cell phones and snapped our picture. She asked us, ‘Why do you want your pictures taken?’ Flight Attendant, Diana Galloway said, “Oh, it’s because we’re sisters!’ The gate agent’s response was priceless. She said, “Oh, your mother must be so proud!’”

– quoted from “12th Anniversary of the First All-Female African American Flight Crew” by First Officer Stephanie Grant, Director of Development for Sisters of the Skies, Inc. 

Before any of the women above flew – in fact, before any of these women were born and could dream of flying – “the Black Swallow” and “Queen Bess” were among a handful of Black, Indigenous, and Asian Americans flying through the air.

Eugene James Bullard, later known as Eugene Jacques Bullard, is remembered as the first African American fighter pilot to fly in combat, and one of four Black pilots during World War I. Although he was the only one of the four from the United States, her never flew for America. Born October 9, 1895, in Columbus, Georgia, he escaped the racism of the South as so many others did at the time – by becoming an expatriate. First he traveled to Scotland and then to England and France. In fact, he was in France at the beginning of World War I and served in several of France’s Marching Regiment of the Foreign Legion (R.M.L.E.). He eventually joined the 170th French Infantry Regiment, but was wounded on the Western Front, in March 1916, during the Battle of Verdun. During his recovery, he learned to fly (as part of a bet) and was able to go through training at the Aerial Gunnery School in Cazaux, Gironde and flight training at Châteauroux and Avord. After receiving his pilot’s license (#6950) from the Aéro-Club de France on May 5, 1917, he returned to the Western Front as one of the 270 American aviators at the Lafayette Flying Corps. That same year, Corporal Bullard was assigned to Escadrille SPA 93. Around the same time that he was flying for France, the United States started recruiting the Americans in the Lafayette Flying Corps; however, the man who would earn 14 French war medals and became known as “L’Hirondelle noire” or “L’Hirondelle noire de mort” (“The Black Swallow” or “The Black Swallow of Death”) was not selected to join the Air Service of the American Expeditionary Forces simply because he was Black.

After World War I, he returned to Paris and worked in as a jazz musician, a club manager, a club owner, a boxer, and a variety of other capacities that put him in close proximity with members of the Harlem Renaissance (not to mention their white contemporaries). He also opened Bullard’s Athletic Club which was a gymnasium offering physical culture, boxing, massage, ping pong and hydrotherapy. He briefly served in the French infantry during World War II; however, after being wounded, he returned to the United States, via Spain. Despite being brutally attacked during the Peekskill riots, Eugene Jacques Bullard would live in New York City until he died of stomach cancer on October 12, 1961.

“One fact, however, emerged as a constant throughout Bullard’s incredible 66 years. Despite late-life recognition in his birth country, which included a well-publicized embrace by a visiting Charles De Gaulle, and, in 1959, a deep tribute on the radio from Eleanor Roosevelt, Bullard never enjoyed the pursuit of happiness in America that he did in France, where he was awarded numerous prestigious honors. As [journalist Phil Keith, with his co-author Tom Clavin] write, ‘It was a proud moment for a black man not quite 21-years-old, far from home, and recognition he never could have received had he been on American soil.’”

– quoted from the NPR’s Baum on Books “Book Review: ‘All Blood Runs Red’” by Joan Baum (published January 30, 2020) 

Elizabeth “Bessie” Coleman became the first African American woman and first Native American to hold a pilot license when she earned her license from the Fédération Aéronautique Internationale on June 15, 1921. Her African American and Cherokee heritage also made her the first Black person and the first Indigenous American to earn an international pilot’s license. Born in Atlanta, Texas on January 26, 1892, the woman who became known as “Queen Bess” and “Brave Bessie” would eventually make her living as a stunt pilot. Before that, however, she worked as a laundrywoman in Waxahachie, Texas. She earned enough money  taking in laundry and picking cotton to attend one semester at the Colored Agricultural and Normal University (now Langston University, the only Historically Black Colleges or Universities in Oklahoma). When she had to drop out of college, due to a lack of funds, followed her brothers to Chicago, Illinois, where trained at Burnham School of Beauty Cultures to be a manicurist at a barbershop. In fact, it was at the barbershop that she got truly motivated to be a pilot.

Since no American flight school would train her, Bessie Coleman used the money she earned as a manicurist to learn French and then travel to France to take flying lessons. Once trained, she became a barnstorming daredevil. She was often criticized for the risks she took – and she was no stranger to accidents and broken bones and bruises. But, her aerobatic stunts gave her a platform which she used to speak out against racism, to promote aviation, and to encourage people of color to pursue aviation as career (or a hobby). Like some other prominent entertainers, she put her money where her mouth was and refused to perform at events where African Americans were not permitted to attend.

“One day John Coleman strutted into the White Sox Barbershop and began teasing Bessie. He started comparing African-American women to French women he had seen during [World War I]. John said that African-American women could not measure up to French women. The French women had careers. They even flew airplanes. He doubted that African-American women could fly like the French women. Bessie waited for the barbershop customers to stop laughing. Then she replied, ‘That’s it. You just called it for me.’”

– quoted from “Chapter 3. Seeking Independence” in The Life of Bessie Coleman: First African-American Woman Pilot by Connie Plantz 

Ultimately, being a principled daredevil while also facing racism cost her. At one point, she opened up a beauty salon in Chicago in order to earn extra money so that she could buy her own airplane. Sadly and tragically, the airplane she was able to purchase was poorly maintained. On April 30, 1926, in preparation for an air show in Jacksonville, Florida, the plane spiraled out of control killing Bessie Coleman and her mechanic and publicist, William D. Wills, who had been piloting the airplane.

Although Bessie Coleman’s was just barely 34 years old when she tragically died doing what she loved, her legacy still lives. There have been schools, scholarships, and at least one library named after her. The United States Postal service issued a commemorative stamp in her honor in 1995; a Google Doodle was posted on what would have been her 125th birthday; she has been inducted into numerous halls of fame; and Mattel recently issued a Barbie doll in her honor. There are streets and boulevards named after her in the United States and there are airport roads bearing her name all over the world.

Bessie Coleman’s legacy also lives on in the lives of the women she inspires and the people they inspire. For instance, in 1992, Mae Carol Jemison (born October 17, 1956) became the first Black woman to travel into space. At the time, the African American chemical engineer and M. D. was working for the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) as a mission specialist aboard the Space Shuttle Endeavour. She was making history at the age of 35 (mere weeks before her 36th birthday) – and she was doing it while carrying a photo of the Brave/Queen Bessie.

There have been also been commemorative fly-overs in her honor and, in 2022, a commemorative American Airlines flight (from Dallas-Fort Worth to Phoenix) was fully staffed by African American women: from the cockpit and aisles all the way to the tarmac (cargo and maintenance crew) there were sisters of the skies.

“For communities who may not fly often, that outreach and activism from Black aerospace professionals and pilots can combat the unknown and can help show Black communities that being a pilot is a real possibility.

‘A parent comes up to me and she says, “You a pilot?” and I said, “Yes, ma’am.” And she said, “They let us be pilots?” And that really was something,’ says [Delta Airlines Captain Stephanie Johnson]. ‘The parents don’t know what the opportunities are, because they didn’t grow up with opportunities. And so it was even more important, that “OK, this has just got to be my life because I can open people’s eyes.”’”

– quoted from the AFAR article “Where Are All the Black Women Pilots? – Nearly a century after Bessie Coleman first took to the skies, Black women remain a rarity in the cockpit.” by Syreeta McFadden (February 20, 2020) 

This year, just before the Super Bowl kick-off, the annual flyover was piloted by an all-women team of pilots (who had a maintenance crew that was mostly women). This was a historic occasion that marked 50 years of women flying in the United States Navy. This was not the first time, however, that a ceremonial Navy aircraft squadron had been flown by all women. In 2019, a team of women flew in the diamond formation during the funeral of (retired) Captain Rosemary Mariner, who was the Navy’s first female jet pilot. With regard to the Super Bowl flyover, the pilots made a point noting that they were honoring “every man and woman in the service” – which includes Lieutenant junior grade (Lt. j.g.) Madeline Swegle, the US Navy’s first Black woman to serve as fighter pilot.

All of those aforementioned Navy pilots fly in the proverbial footsteps of Jesse Leroy Brown, the first Black man to be accepted into Navy flight school, the first Black pilot to earn Wings of Gold, and the first Black Navy officer killed during the Korean War; Lt. Commander Brenda E. Robinson, one of only 10 women to attend the Navy’s Aviation Officer Candidate School in 1977, the first Black woman to serve as a Navy pilot, and the first Black woman to earn Wings of Gold; and Shawna Rochelle Kimbrell, the first Black woman to serve as a fighter pilot in the United States Air Force.

“…fill the air with ‘Black Wings’.”

– quoted from “Chapter XIV – A Plan” in Black Wings by Lieut. William J. Powell 

NOTE: Lieutenant Powell served in the the 370th Illinois Infantry Regiment during World War I and was able to obtain train to be a pilot in the United States in (at the Los Angeles School of Flight, 1928 – 1932). He dedicated his book to Bessie Coleman and founded the Bessie Coleman Aero Club, which welcomed people of all races and genders.

Practice Notes: Two or three times a year, I lead flight-inspired practices where we explore physical terms like “pitch,” “yaw,” and “roll” – all movements that are already in our practice. This is also an opportunity to cultivate awareness around core engagement and different parts of the body (usually, feet or hips) that serve as our “landing gear.” A practice specifically related to flight attendants could include some extra lateral extension and some “funky” poses, where one elbow is flexed and one is extended (similar to the way one might lift a suitcase into an overhead bin). Naturally, “Airplane Pose” would be a peak pose.

### “And he still gives his love, he just gives it away / The love he receives is the love that is saved / And sometimes is seen a strange spot in the sky / A human being that was given to fly / Flying” ~ Pearl Jam ###