E-mail:
Jack Balkin: jackbalkin at yahoo.com
Bruce Ackerman bruce.ackerman at yale.edu
Ian Ayres ian.ayres at yale.edu
Corey Brettschneider corey_brettschneider at brown.edu
Mary Dudziak mary.l.dudziak at emory.edu
Joey Fishkin joey.fishkin at gmail.com
Heather Gerken heather.gerken at yale.edu
Abbe Gluck abbe.gluck at yale.edu
Mark Graber mgraber at law.umaryland.edu
Stephen Griffin sgriffin at tulane.edu
Jonathan Hafetz jonathan.hafetz at shu.edu
Jeremy Kessler jkessler at law.columbia.edu
Andrew Koppelman akoppelman at law.northwestern.edu
Marty Lederman msl46 at law.georgetown.edu
Sanford Levinson slevinson at law.utexas.edu
David Luban david.luban at gmail.com
Gerard Magliocca gmaglioc at iupui.edu
Jason Mazzone mazzonej at illinois.edu
Linda McClain lmcclain at bu.edu
John Mikhail mikhail at law.georgetown.edu
Frank Pasquale pasquale.frank at gmail.com
Nate Persily npersily at gmail.com
Michael Stokes Paulsen michaelstokespaulsen at gmail.com
Deborah Pearlstein dpearlst at yu.edu
Rick Pildes rick.pildes at nyu.edu
David Pozen dpozen at law.columbia.edu
Richard Primus raprimus at umich.edu
K. Sabeel Rahmansabeel.rahman at brooklaw.edu
Alice Ristroph alice.ristroph at shu.edu
Neil Siegel siegel at law.duke.edu
David Super david.super at law.georgetown.edu
Brian Tamanaha btamanaha at wulaw.wustl.edu
Nelson Tebbe nelson.tebbe at brooklaw.edu
Mark Tushnet mtushnet at law.harvard.edu
Adam Winkler winkler at ucla.edu
I first encountered the Garland Fund more than 20 years ago,
when Mark Tushnet described the key role the Fund’s “Margold Report” played in
developing the NAACP’s litigation strategy in the 1930s. Drawing on Tushnet’s
work in my own book on pre-Brown attacks on racial and economic
inequality, I used the Margold Report largely as evidence of the NAACP’s
relative disinterest in Black labor and the issues Black workers faced under
Jim Crow. My approach to the Garland Fund was thus fleeting and piecemeal. To
the extent that I noticed the many famous figures involved in the Fund, or that
I was surprised that the Fund had approved the NAACP’s proposal despite the
apparent divergence between the Fund’s focus on labor and the NAACP’s lack
thereof, I did not pursue such leads. Like Tushnet before me, I came at the
Garland Fund from one particular angle: as a small but important part of the NAACP’s
developing legal strategy.
How lucky for me, and for us all, that John Witt has now put
the Garland Fund squarely at the center not only of his own story but, in many
ways, of the entire history of the United States in the first half of the
twentieth century. What makes the breadth and ambition of Witt’s book possible is
the breadth and ambition that he has uncovered in the Fund itself: It was
capacious enough to welcome the likes of Roger Baldwin and James Weldon Johnson
and Elizabeth Gurley Flynn and many more. It simultaneously promoted “labor
fairness and racial equality and basic human freedoms” like free speech (541). The
Fund drew on federal Indian law and decades-old anti-Chinese American
discrimination cases to produce the NAACP’s litigation blueprint, and it funded
lawyers in causes as disparate as Ossian Sweet and Scottsboro. Its work ranged from
the United Mine Workers to the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters to the
Amalgamated Clothing Workers of America and ultimately to the origins of the
CIO. It defended everyone from Scopes to Sacco and Vanzetti. Witt shows how the Fund laid the groundwork
for so much of mid-century America’s activism, litigation, political culture,
and reform. In Witt’s telling, the Fund’s impact was a feat of great proportions
for such a small band of activists and intellectuals. And his telling of their
story is its own feat of prodigious historical research, narrative elegance,
and no small contemporary impact.
In placing “the world of the Garland Fund” at the center of
his story, Witt reveals new intersections between race and labor. Though Witt
critiques “the long civil rights movement” for its preoccupation with the
dichotomy between grassroots organizing and litigation, I would place Witt
within that historiographical tradition. (I wonder whether he would place
himself there.) Witt is certainly right that debates about methods of social
change are a part of the long civil rights movement historiography, but I take
its hallmarks to be (1) that the civil rights movement began long before its
most visible phase in the 1950s and 1960s, and (2) that Jim Crow’s sprawling
and integrated system of racial subordination and class exploitation led to
social movements that countered both of those aspects, often together. The
excavations of that literature made visible both temporal and economic
developments that had become hard to see.
Witt’s contributions to the long civil rights movement are
threefold. First, in contrast to most of that literature—which takes a person,
place, or civil rights or labor organization or two as its subject—Witt’s focus
on the Garland Fund enables him to encompass the stories of many groups,
people, and places at once. Shifting the lens from the NAACP or the CIO to the
Fund makes the breadth and depth of the connections between race and labor both
more extensive and more visible. To be sure, not every organization Witt
describes as part of the Garland Fund network took the relationship between
racial inequality and labor exploitation as their focus, or did so uniformly or
continuously. But the overlapping relationships of so many organizations in and
around the Garland Fund add much heft to the connection between race and labor.
The Fund’s unique network of individuals, organizations, and ideas pushed
forward in tandem and in conflict, with many springboarding and learning from the
others.
Indeed, Witt’s contribution to the long civil rights story
goes two giant steps further. The first step results from his depiction not
only of race and labor, but of race, labor, and civil liberties. Until now,
historians have connected civil rights and labor, civil rights and civil
liberties, and civil liberties and labor, but they have rarely linked all
three. With Roger Baldwin at the center of
the Garland Fund, the Fund was always deeply concerned with and embedded in the
fight for free speech, which itself was embedded in, and often in tension with,
the fight for labor rights. Witt transcends historical and
historiographical segmentation by tracing every race, labor, and civil
liberties spoke through the Garland Fund’s hub. Moreover, he does not leave
those spokes in their singular spoke-ness. He shows how their crossing through
the hub changed them, recombined them, propagated new ideas, and amplified
their power. Following all three
stories back to their origins and forward to their immense influence by
mid-century, Witt opens up and integrates “the interconnectedness of the
core projects of modern American liberalism” (9).
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, Witt places that
tripartite story at the center not only of his history, but of the history of
the United States in the first half of the twentieth century. This is certainly
a book of civil rights history, labor history, and civil liberties history,
both each separately and very much together. But in telling those combined histories,
Witt has shown them to be the very essence of American history. To those of us
who have toiled in the trenches of a long civil rights movement often deemed
somewhat marginal to the great American project, the ambition of that claim is
welcome indeed.
Risa Goluboff is David and Mary Harrison Distinguished Professor of Law and Professor of History, University of Virginia School of Law. You can reach her by e-mail at goluboff@law.virginia.edu. Posted
9:30 AM
by Guest Blogger [link]