Emmett Till Revisited

His lynching is one of the most infamous crimes in America’s history.

In the summer of 1955, a 14-year-old black boy named Emmett Till was abducted at gunpoint by white men in Money, Mississippi, then beaten, shot in the head, and thrown into the Tallahatchie River. Till, who lived in Chicago and was in Mississippi visiting relatives, was killed for allegedly whistling at a white woman in a store. At the murder trial, witnesses clearly identified the perpetrators, but an all-white jury in a deeply segregated South acquitted them, and the men walked free. Many experts say the brutal killing, as well as the gruesome photos that circulated of Till’s mutilated body at his funeral in Chicago, helped galvanize the civil rights movement.

His lynching is one of the most infamous crimes in America’s history.

In the summer of 1955, a 14-year-old black boy named Emmett Till was abducted at gunpoint by white men in Money, Mississippi. They beat the young boy. Then they shot him in the head and threw him into the Tallahatchie River. Emmett, who lived in Chicago, was in Mississippi visiting relatives. He was killed for allegedly whistling at a white woman in a store. At the murder trial, witnesses clearly identified the perpetrators. But an all-white jury in a deeply segregated South acquitted them. The perpetrators walked free. 

Many experts say the brutal killing, as well as the gruesome photos that circulated of Till’s mutilated body at his funeral in Chicago, helped galvanize the civil rights movement.

New evidence in the death of Emmett Till has his family seeking answers (see “A Guide to the Emmett Till Case,” below). And it’s just one reason why lynching—killing in retaliation for an alleged offense, carried out without legal authority by one or more people—is getting renewed attention. In January, a police chief in LaGrange, Georgia, issued a public apology for the 1940 lynching of a black teenager accused of trying to assault a white woman. And researchers at the Equal Justice Initiative (EJI) in Montgomery, Alabama, recently published the most detailed study to date on lynching in the South. It was the result of more than five years of research and 160 visits to sites around the region, and it documented at least 800 more victims than had previously been reported.

New evidence in the death of Emmett Till has his family seeking answers (see “A Guide to the Emmett Till Case,” below). And it’s just one reason why lynching is getting renewed attention. (Lynching can be defined as killing someone in retaliation for an alleged offense, carried out without legal authority by one or more people.)

In January, a police chief in LaGrange, Georgia, issued a public apology for a 1940 lynching of a black teenager. The boy was accused of trying to assault a white woman. And researchers at the Equal Justice Initiative (EJI) in Montgomery, Alabama, recently published the most detailed study to date on lynching in the South. It was the result of more than five years of research and 160 visits to sites around the region. It documented at least 800 more victims than had previously been reported.

From 1877 to 1950, the study found, more than 4,000 black men, women, and children were lynched in the 12 Southern states where lynching was most prevalent (see chart, below). Such murders went unpunished in most cases, and were often carried out with the approval and even help of local officials. They continued through the 1960s and 70s, with blacks—and some whites—targeted for demanding equal rights for African-Americans.  

That lynchings became common in the South after 1877 is no coincidence. The year marked the end of Reconstruction (1865-77), the period after the Civil War (1861-65) when former slaves briefly gained certain civil rights in America: The 14th Amendment (1868) gave blacks and former slaves citizenship and equal protection under the law, and the 15th Amendment (1870) gave them voting rights. For the first time, African-Americans cast ballots, sat on juries, and were even elected to Congress—with the help of federal troops sent down South to enforce the laws. But once the last of the troops withdrew in 1877, Reconstruction collapsed. 

“It sent a signal that the North in general and the federal government in particular were tired of dealing with what was called the Negro problem,” says David Pilgrim, a sociologist and the founder and curator of the Jim Crow Museum in Big Rapids, Michigan. 

From 1877 to 1950, the study found, more than 4,000 black men, women, and children were lynched in the 12 Southern states where lynching was most common (see chart, below). Such murders went unpunished in most cases. They were often carried out with the approval and even help of local officials. They continued through the 1960s and ’70s. Blacks, and some whites, were often targeted for demanding equal rights for African-Americans.  

That lynchings became common in the South after 1877 is no coincidence. The year marked the end of Reconstruction (1865-77). That’s the period after the Civil War (1861-65) when former slaves briefly gained certain civil rights in America. The 14th Amendment (1868) gave blacks and former slaves citizenship and equal protection under the law. The 15th Amendment (1870) gave them voting rights. For the first time, African-Americans cast ballots. They also sat on juries. And they were even elected to Congress. Federal troops were sent to the South to enforce the laws. But once the last of the troops withdrew in 1877, Reconstruction collapsed. 

“It sent a signal that the North in general and the federal government in particular were tired of dealing with what was called the Negro problem,” says David Pilgrim, a sociologist and the founder and curator of the Jim Crow Museum in Big Rapids, Michigan.

Pilgrim adds that resentment of Southerners toward the North after losing the bitterly fought Civil War fanned the flames of white supremacist organizations like the Ku Klux Klan (KKK), which began organizing campaigns of racial terror in the late 1860s. 

“And now you’re being told the black man is your equal,” he says. “Well, your fear is that he’s not going to be your equal, he’s actually going to dominate you.”

It was that mind-set, according to Pilgrim, that led state and local governments in the South to pass a series of “Jim Crow” laws, which systematically discriminated against blacks politically, economically, and socially. (The name Jim Crow came from a popular 19th-century minstrel character and was used in the South as a derogatory term for blacks.) The U.S. Supreme Court’s 1896 ruling in Plessy v. Ferguson, a case involving segregated rail cars in Louisiana, essentially upheld Jim Crow by saying that “separate but equal” facilities for blacks and whites were constitutional. Jim Crow laws and the etiquette that governed black-white relations in the South turned African-Americans into second-class citizens. 

Southern resentment toward the North also intensified after the bitterly fought Civil War, Pilgrim explains. For example, white supremacist groups like the Ku Klux Klan (KKK) began organizing campaigns of racial terror in the late 1860s.

“And now you’re being told the black man is your equal,” he says. “Well, your fear is that he’s not going to be your equal, he’s actually going to dominate you.”

It was that mind-set, according to Pilgrim, that led state and local governments in the South to pass a series of “Jim Crow” laws. Such laws systematicallydiscriminated against blacks politically, economically, and socially. (The name Jim Crow came from a popular 19th-century minstrel character and was used in the South as a derogatory term for blacks.) The U.S. Supreme Court’s 1896 ruling in Plessy v. Ferguson—a case involving segregated rail cars in Louisiana—upheld Jim Crow by saying that “separate but equal” facilities for blacks and whites were constitutional. Jim Crow laws and social customs that governed black-white relations in the South turned African-Americans into second-class citizens.

One of the most pervasive and irrational fears during the Jim Crow era, according to EJI, was that black men were preying on white women. Nearly 25 percent of the lynching victims EJI documented were black men accused of sexual misconduct against white women. Other blacks were killed for minor social infractions, such as failing to say “mister” when addressing a white police officer, or for demanding basic rights, such as getting paid for the work they did. 

“The Jim Crow system could not have existed without violence,” says Pilgrim.

Lynchings were often publicized in newspapers and carried out in black neighborhoods to terrorize residents. They frequently attracted large white crowds, including public officials. People sometimes picnicked as they watched. Blacks were sometimes forced to watch too. 

Few whites were ever brought to justice: Of all the lynching cases after 1900, only 1 percent resulted in a criminal conviction, according to EJI. Its study concluded that the communities where lynchings took place have done little to reconcile their violent pasts—and the lingering trauma that remains for black members of their communities.

“There is an astonishing absence of any effort to acknowledge, discuss, or address lynching,” the report states. “There are very few monuments or memorials that address the history and legacy.” 

One of the most widespread and irrational fears during the Jim Crow era, according to EJI, was that black men were preying on white women. Nearly 25 percent of the lynching victims EJI documented were black men accused of sexual misconduct against white women. Other blacks were killed for breaking social conventions. For example, they had failed to say “mister” when addressing a white police officer. Or they had demanded basic rights, like getting paid for the work they did. 

“The Jim Crow system could not have existed without violence,” says Pilgrim.

Lynchings were often publicized in newspapers. They were carried out in black neighborhoods to terrorize residents. And they frequently attracted large white crowds, including public officials. People sometimes picnicked as they watched. Blacks were sometimes forced to watch too. 

Few whites were ever brought to justice: Of all the lynching cases after 1900, only 1 percent resulted in a criminal conviction, according to EJI. Its study concluded that the communities where lynchings happened have done little to deal with their violent pasts. The trauma remains for black members of their communities.

“There is an astonishing absence of any effort to acknowledge, discuss, or address lynching,” the report states. “There are very few monuments or memorials that address the history and legacy.”

But the town of LaGrange, Georgia, population 31,000, recently became an exception. In January, Police Chief Louis M. Dekmar, who is white, issued a rare apology for the 1940 lynching of Austin Callaway, who is believed to have been 16 or 18 years old when he was killed. 

Many of LaGrange’s residents had never heard of Callaway’s lynching because local newspapers at the time attributed his death to “the result of bullets fired by an unknown person or group of individuals.” But in 2014, Jason M. McGraw, a student at Northeastern University School of Law in Boston, uncovered the real story while doing a research paper about the teenager’s death. 

On Sept. 7, 1940, Callaway was arrested and charged with trying to assault a white woman. That night, a band of white men dragged him from his jail cell, drove him 8 miles away, shot him in the head and arms, and left him for dead. Callaway was later found on the side of a road and taken to a hospital, where he died.

As Chief Dekmar learned more about the case, he decided that something must be done to acknowledge it. He approached the president of a local N.A.A.C.P. chapter about helping to set up a public apology for the lynching. 

“I sincerely regret and denounce the role our police department played in Austin’s lynching, both through our action and our inaction,” he told a crowd at a traditionally black church. “And for that I’m profoundly sorry. It should never have happened.”

Chief Dekmar said that, in the age of Black Lives Matter, he hoped his apology could also help ease the mistrust that exists today between minorities and the police. Some white residents, however, were skeptical that the apology would have any practical effect.

“I don’t care if they apologize or don’t,” said Jessie East, 74, who works at a local furniture and appliance shop. “It’s not going to change a thing that happened 77 years ago.” 

But Deborah Tatum, a relative of Callaway’s, thought the apology was a step toward healing. “I believe God when he tells us that there is power and freedom in forgiveness,” she said.

Hank Klibanoff has spent years delving into civil rights-era crimes, as a reporter and now as head of the Civil Rights Cold Cases Project at Emory University in Atlanta. He also thinks the apology is enormously important, even after so much time has passed.

“I think he’s just saying what we did was wrong, what we as a people did,” says Klibanoff. “We weren’t here, we didn’t do that, but it was wrong. And I think it gives people cover to [apologize] more. And I hope it will.”

But the town of LaGrange, Georgia, population 31,000, recently became an exception. In January, Police Chief Louis Dekmar, who is white, issued an apology for the 1940 lynching of Austin Callaway. Callaway is believed to have been 16 or 18 years old when he was killed. 

Many of LaGrange’s residents had never heard of Callaway’s lynching. That’s because local newspapers at the time attributed his death to “the result of bullets fired by an unknown person or group of individuals.” But in 2014, Jason M. McGraw, a student at Northeastern University School of Law in Boston, was doing a research paper about the teenager’s death. He uncovered the real story. 

On Sept. 7, 1940, Callaway was arrested. He was charged with trying to assault a white woman. That same day, a band of white men dragged him from his jail cell. They drove him 8 miles away. They shot him in the head and arms. And they left him for dead. Callaway was later found on the side of a road. He was taken to a hospital, where he died.

After Chief Dekmar learned more about the case, he approached the president of a local N.A.A.C.P. chapter. He asked him to help him set up a public apology for the lynching. 

“I sincerely regret and denounce the role our police department played in Austin’s lynching, both through action and inaction,” he told a crowd at a traditionally black church. “And for that I’m profoundly sorry. It should never have happened.”

Chief Dekmar said that, in the age of Black Lives Matter, he hoped his apology could also improve relations between minorities and the police. Some white residents, however, were skeptical. They thought that the apology would have no practical effect.

“I don’t care if they apologize or don’t,” said Jessie East, 74, who works at a local furniture and appliance shop. “It’s not going to change a thing that happened 77 years ago.” 

But Deborah Tatum, a relative of Callaway’s, thought the apology was a step toward healing. “I believe God when he tells us that there is power and freedom in forgiveness,” she said.

Hank Klibanoff has spent years delving into civil rights-era crimes. Now he heads the Civil Rights Cold Cases Project at Emory University in Atlanta. He thinks the apology is enormously important, even after so much time has passed.

“I think he’s just saying what we did was wrong, what we as a people did,” says Klibanoff. “We weren’t here, we didn’t do that, but it was wrong. And I think it gives people cover to [apologize] more. And I hope it will.”