Jack Johnson, Rebel Sojourner

by Theresa Runstedtler

  Black Cubans were conspicuously absent from their regular haunts the night after the fight. Refusing to accept Johnson's defeat, a group of black children had greeted the new white champion by waving black flags. Although an Associated Press correspondent assumed that the Afro-Cuban youngsters had mistakenly heard that Johnson had won, it is far more likely that they stood in defiant support of their black sporting hero.78

  Figure 15. This postcard advertised Jess Willard's Wild West Show, which toured the United States after his triumph over Jack Johnson. “'The Count' that made Jess Willard Cowboy Champion of the World. Appearing with Miller Bros. & Arlington's 101 Ranch, Wild West,” circa 1916. From the author's collection.

  Back home, black Americans took the news hard. When several whites walked along South State Street waving the Chicago American's special fight edition with the headline “WILLARD CHAMPION,” a group of black Americans attacked them, sending three to the hospital.79 The sense of disappointment was palpable. Billy Lewis of the Indianapolis Freeman had to admit, “Jess Willard was a eugenic man—made to order.”80 In Chicago's Black Belt, “It was as if the community had had a promised holiday recalled,” and Johnson's friends and family expressed their utter disbelief. In Harlem his fans remained loyal, arguing that the fight must have been a frame-up.81

  Johnson's fall in Havana pushed black Americans to ponder the state of the worldwide race problem. Prominent activist and writer James Weldon Johnson connected the black heavyweight's struggle against the color line to the larger geopolitical struggle of nonwhite peoples. Born of parents with ties to the Bahamas, and having spent time as a U.S. diplomat in Venezuela and Nicaragua, Weldon Johnson was keenly aware of the global scope of Western imperialism and white supremacy. “Johnson fought a great fight,” the longtime admirer of the black champion observed, “and it must be remembered that it was the fight of one lone black man against the world.”82 Johnson's winning record “has been something of a racial asset,” Weldon Johnson claimed, since “the white race, in spite of its vaunted civilization, pays more respect to the argument of force than any other race in the world.” Referring to the Russo-Japanese War, he remarked, “As soon as Japan showed that it could fight, it immediately gained the respect and admiration in an individual way.”83

  Weldon Johnson recognized the link between notions of white supremacy and assumptions about white intellectual and physical prowess. “One of the delusions fostered by the Anglo-Saxon is that white men are superior to those of ‘lesser breed' not only intellectually, but also in physical strength and stamina,” he observed. White men believed “physical stamina” was “a matter of mind,” and since they supposedly possessed a superior mind, they could survive “the grueling grind” that would take “the heart out of other men.” Weldon Johnson reflected, “Before the Johnson-Jeffries fight, the papers were full of statements to the effect that the white man had the history of Hastings and Agincourt behind him, while the black man had nothing but the history of the jun-gle.”84 Johnson had helped to erase these false conceptions, giving people of color their own battle hero. As one editorialist put it, “His own individual achievements in the ring had put new life and backbone in the colored races from the China Wall to Niagara's Falls.”85

  Back in Cuba, local authorities saw the Willard-Johnson fight as another step forward in their nation's development. According to one official, the excitement of the fight had caused “Cuban boys and even men to yearn for skill in the manly art of defending themselves with their fists instead of with knives and pistols.”86 Others remained skeptical of the benefits of prizefighting, arguing that it did not befit a modern, independent nation. An editorialist for Diario de la Marina called the match “mercenary and grotesque.” Although he saw the necessity of “body workouts” in these “cretinous and degenerated times,” he was not in favor of public fights.87 Another compared boxing to the barbaric Spanish practice of bullfighting, noting that both were brought in by the island's colonizers. He argued that his compatriots' embrace of boxing was indicative of their colonial habit of “self-denigration,” for they devalued their own traditions while blindly adopting the customs of those who despised them.88 A few Cuban writers even likened professional prizefighting to other U.S. colonial ventures on the island. The white American promoter Curley had initially gone out of his way to express his personal investment in Cuba and its people. When he later cheated Cuban workers out of money for services rendered, they realized that his investment was more profit-driven than sincere.89 Disgusted by the Willard-Johnson affair, one editorialist urged the Cuban public to stop putting up “with those foreign frauds that make fun of your ‘frock coats' and your charming tropical innocence.”90

  Despite these reservations, boxing, much like other U.S. imports, was gaining in popularity. In the years that followed the island developed its own boxing industry. On 12 May 1915 Cuba's Supreme Court legalized prizefighting on the island.91 By 1919 there were two new boxing rings in Cuba—el Ring Cuba and el Black Cat Ring—run by the Cuban businessmen José María Villaverde and Angel Rodrigo Vivero. A professional boxing association, el Havana Boxing Committee, was also established in 1920, followed in 1921 by a government regulatory board called the Comisión Nacional de Boxeo y Lucha.92

  Some sportsmen saw Cuba's trend toward athletics as part and parcel of its economic, political, and cultural progress. Writing in 1923, Fernando Gil, the official judge appointed by the Cuban Boxing Commission, contended, “Cuba is not only abreast with the times in her commercial development as the largest cane sugar producing country in the world; she is also the greatest producer of first class all round athletes south of the Rio Grande.”93 Every “fair sized city or town” in Cuba had its own athletic club complete with a ring or stadium with space for thousands of spectators, and Cuban newspapers had sports sections devoted to boxing. This burst of pugilistic activity had also revealed the true nature of Cuban manhood. “The Cuban has proven he possesses the indispensable requirements of an athlete in the strict sense of the word,” Gil declared. “He is quick in action, determined, has a good eye, he is naturally strong, and courageous, assimilates punishment wonderfully, will accept advice readily and is always ready to try.” With the help of boxing, Cubans were becoming brave and honorable “men”—modern masculine subjects capable of self-determination.

  Although disaffected by both U.S. imperialism and white Cuban nationalism, Afro-Cubans became some of the most ardent fans and practitioners of pugilism. For them, boxing formed an important strand of countercultural connection with black America. In the decades following the Willard-Johnson match Afro-Cubans continued to idolize the audacious black American heavyweight for his public stands against white American racism. By the time the legendary Afro-Cuban featherweight Eligio Sardiñias-Montalbo (Kid Chocolate) picked up the gloves as a young boy in the Havana barrio of Cerro, boxing had already become an integral part of the local scene. Kid Chocolate and his friends learned the details of Johnson's career and emulated the black American's bold dandyism.94 Ironically, they expressed their black pride and solidarity by appropriating the very sport that was supposed to signal Cuba's entry into the white world.

  The official end of the seven-year search for a white hope had certainly not softened the hearts of U.S. officials. They were determined to make Johnson serve his time. When he applied for a passport in Havana, U.S. minister Gonzales consulted with State Department officials in Washington, D.C. Secretary of State Bryan denied Johnson a passport on the grounds that he was a fugitive from U.S. justice. When Curley and Willard departed for the United States, Johnson lamented, “It's hard to see you all go back to America, as much my country as it is yours, and I can't go there, and did nothing to warrant this persecution against me.”95 Still a wanted man back home and worried that Cuban officials might deport him, Johnson traveled to Spain with Lucille in a luxurious suite aboard the Reina Maria Cristina.96

  Over the next four years (1915-19) Johnson became increasingly disillusio
ned about the real potential for black freedom and fortune in Europe, particularly among the Anglo-Saxons. Shortly after arriving in Spain Johnson left for London, where he gave exhibitions and later became a recruiter for the British military.97 Even though Johnson remained a celebrity of sorts, his British sojourn was bittersweet. The former champion not only faced legal troubles and poor box office returns, but he also had to contend with slanderous reports of his “inappropriate” advances on English women. By January 1916 the Home Office had used the provisions of the Aliens Restriction Act to force Johnson out of the country.98

  Cast out of Britain, Johnson returned to neutral Spain, where he and his wife settled in an exclusive area of Barcelona. In this Latin nation things seemed to take a turn for the better. Johnson took advantage of his exotic status as a black performer as well as Spain's relative racial fluidity to embark on a number of new business ventures. He opened a boxing academy and a café, tried his hand at bullfighting, became a patron of King Alfonso, purchased an interest in a Spanish socialist weekly, and continued to engage in the occasional prizefight.99

  As he publicly critiqued the United States and made various pro-German statements, Johnson remained a target of the U.S. government.100 Military intelligence officers trailed him in Spain, providing a record of his mounting frustration. John Lang, a military attaché in Madrid, caroused with Johnson and his ragtag interracial posse of embittered expatriates, gamblers, bohemians, radicals, and prostitutes. Johnson drowned his resentment in liquor, his words often betraying his disenchantment with the Allies' pronouncements of democracy. He once asserted, “The Germans treat me as a man and my wife as a lady.”101 Johnson's declaration revealed his overwhelming sense of disappointment more than any real affiliation with Germany. He had concluded that Britain and France were no better than the United States. Their rhetoric of freedom appeared to be just that—empty rhetoric.

  BLACK AMERICANS AND THE MEXICAN REPUBLIC

  Although Spain proved to be a more or less hospitable place, ultimately it was still too far from the United States for Johnson's liking. Yearning for home and increasingly disaffected with Europe, the former champion shifted his sights to “Latin America, the garden of the world.”102 He believed the region offered black Americans “all the golden privileges of a land that has never known racial prejudice.” He claimed that Mexico would not only grant black Americans citizenship but also stand up for their rights. “If you want us, Mexico,” Johnson challenged, “we are ready to dwell among you and make you rich as we have made the southern white man rich.” In his eyes, the postwar period marked a critical moment for his people. The “Negro” was “on the auction block,” and “the nation or community” with the highest bid would receive his loyalty.

  Johnson did not waste time in executing his plans. On 18 January 1919, Military Attaché Lang reported, “It is rumored that two rich Mexicans at present in Madrid…have entered into agreement with Jack Johnson to send him and his wife to Mexico where a fight will be arranged between him and some American.”103 Shortly thereafter Johnson left Spain, stopping in Havana on his way to Mexico City.

  As Johnson encouraged Mexico to make its bid for the “Negro,” he was not only tapping into longstanding images of Mexico as a space of exile for black Americans, but he was also playing on white American fears about the potential for cooperation between black Americans and Mexicans against the United States. After Reconstruction, Mexico became the haven of choice for many African Americans in search of a reprieve from racial violence and segregation. The 1890s brought the rise of Mexican colonization schemes often spearheaded by black Americans and supported by the Mexican government. These schemes involved recruiting black Americans from the South to grow coffee and cotton in the Mexican states of Veracruz and Tamaulipas. Like Cuba, Mexico was especially enticing because of its proximity to the United States in comparison to Liberia and other African destinations. Enterprising black Americans relocated with the hope of working for themselves on their own land.104

  In 1902 the black American pugilist Bob Scanlon traveled to Mexico as a teenager in search of opportunity and adventure. He found work as a ranch hand in Veracruz. That same year the Chicago journalist G. W. Slaughter began his annual visits to Mexico. “It is a glorious land, free from race prejudice and all the little qualities that make up this country we live in,” Slaughter wrote upon returning from his eighth trip south of the border in 1910.105 “Black and white mingled together in even closer intimacy than the Jews do in the United States,” he declared. “There is not a drug store in the capital city that will refuse a Negro a drink of ice cream soda, and in several cases whites and blacks have intermarried without causing even comment.” He had also seen “prosperous, industrious Negroes”—including entrepreneurs, railroad engineers and property owners—“carrying on business of their own.” As Slaughter concluded, “On the whole Mexico can be said to be the black man's country.” It was a place where New Negroes could be “men” rather than “Sams, Georges, Shines, Coons and the like.”106

  Other accounts suggested that not all Mexicans would greet black Americans with open arms. Some worried that disease, vice, and vagabondism would accompany the black influx from across the border.107 In reality, Mexican settlement was far from an unmitigated success. Often faced with hunger, disease, financial troubles, and inhumane treatment, many black migrants gave up and returned to the United States. Even for those who persevered, their position was shaky at best in a nation that not only marginalized its own black population but also worked to erase any African elements from its collective memory and consciousness.108

  Throughout the 1910s the violence and instability of the Mexican Revolution brought additional complications. Although the dictatorial regime of President Porfirio Díaz had overseen a massive program of national development, building infrastructure such as railroads, highways, and telegraph lines, political and economic control had become increasingly concentrated in the hands of a select few. This select few also included white American financiers and corporations that not only invested heavily in Mexico's rail, oil, mining, and banking industries but also brought their racial prejudices with them. Mexicans from all classes joined in the revolt against this centralization of power and wealth. With the ouster of Díaz, many factions vied for control, causing political upheaval.109

  Despite black Americans' historical affinity for Mexico, during the revolution the United States began to rely more heavily on black soldiers to police the border region. Although men like Sergeant John L. Hunt of the 9th Cavalry were a source of pride for fellow black Americans, he and his troops remained vulnerable to white American slander and violence. In the fall of 1912 Hunt wrote a letter to the Statesman in defense of his comrades. He lauded the “great courage and bravery” his men had shown as they guarded the border near Douglas, Texas, against a band of Mexican rebels. “For just that brief moment I felt proud to be a soldier,” Hunt recalled, “but as we can be appreciated and respected only when we are on the battle field I sometimes regret that I ever donned the uniform of a soldier.”110 Given the region's harsh racial climate, U.S. officials worried about the potential impact of Mexican radicalism, from labor organizing to socialism to anarchism, on these armed and often disgruntled black soldiers.111

  The stories of black American servicemen in Mexico contained many of the same declarations of New Negro manhood that permeated the tales of Johnson's successes abroad. It seemed as if black men had to leave the United States to gain respect and admiration for their bravery and skill, whether in the boxing ring or on the battlefield. Rumors about the Mexican rebel leader Pancho Villa's supposed black and Cherokee heritage exemplified this recurrent theme. Some black American veterans argued that Villa was actually Sergeant-Major George Goldsby, formerly of the black 10th Regiment of the United States Cavalry. As the apocryphal story went, Goldsby had deserted the 10th Regiment in 1879, fearing that he would be unfairly punished as a black man after being threatened with a court martial
.112 The mythical Goldsby was not alone, for other Spanish-American War veterans from the 9th and 10th Cavalry and the 24th and 25th Infantry had also defected to the Mexican Army. Goldsby's was a cautionary tale about the fragility of black American loyalty to the United States and its expansionist designs.113

  When President Woodrow Wilson sent U.S. warships to attack and occupy Veracruz on 21 April 1914, it looked as if the United States might go to war with Mexico. Although black servicemen took part in the attack, their participation in a full-scale conflict with Mexico remained a subject of passionate debate back home. “Should they volunteer to fight for this country in view of the abridgement of their rights, and suffering…at the hands of the dominant race in America?” one black editorialist asked.114 For some, the potentially positive impact of the black regiments' courageous exploits at the border overrode questions of racial discrimination at home.115 Echoing Johnson's earlier pronouncements that he would never “shoulder a musket” for the United States, others could not justify fighting for a country that not only degraded them at every turn but also shunted them into the thankless job of border service while a real war was heating up in Europe. They argued that the United States had no right to interfere in Mexican affairs, and they questioned President Wilson's feeble claim that this was “a war of service” to bring peace to Mexico rather than a war of conquest.116 Together, the Mexican rebels' defiance and black Americans' tenuous loyalty created a subversive combustion of colored interests. The underlying fear that had driven the furious pursuit for a white hope a few years earlier now appeared to be manifesting itself in the spheres of war and politics.