Thomas Frederick Paige, Jr.: Civil War Sailor and Civil Rights Activist

By Bennett White
HRNM Volunteer

Thomas Paige likely served aboard USS Minnesota during the Battle of Hampton Roads. In this painting, USS Minnesota is protected by USS Monitor on March 9, 1862. (Tom Freeman Art)

African Americans have participated in armed conflicts since the American Revolution; however, the Civil War was the first time the Federal Army and Navy officially incorporated free Black men and previously enslaved individuals into their ranks. In his preliminary Emancipation Proclamation, Abraham Lincoln instituted a policy allowing Union military commanders to begin enlisting Black men into the Union military. By May 1863, the Bureau of Colored Troops was established in Washington, D.C., to administer the increasing number of African American units operating in the field.[1] While the Union Army quickly established complex regulations to segregate African Americans into all-Black units, the Navy—desperately short of manpower at the start of the war—fully integrated the decks of its steamboats, supply ships, and war frigates to put together an effective fighting force.[2] Hampton Roads, due to Fort Monroe’s reputation as a refuge for escaping slaves, proved to be a rich recruiting ground for Navy personnel to identify and enlist African Americans into military service. Many of these Black veterans would go on to shape American life after the war through political activism and entrepreneurship.

Thomas Frederick Paige, Jr. was one of these brave men. Born into slavery in 1838, Paige had to combat racism in antebellum Norfolk from an early age. Before the Civil War, enslaved people in Norfolk held the same jobs as free Blacks and less affluent whites, and often developed skillsets necessary for carpentry, barbering, crafting sails, and staging freight along Norfolk’s dockyards. However, economic stagnation made jobs scarce, which prompted white laborers to lash out against African Americans through street brawls and vigilantism.[3] In 1857, seeking freedom, Thomas—along with his brother Richard Paige (who eventually became Virginia’s first Black attorney and a Republican congressman)—escaped aboard a schooner bound for Philadelphia through the help of northern abolitionists. While Richard remained in Boston to study law under abolitionist George Hilliard Steward until 1867, Thomas quickly found himself back in Hampton Roads after enlisting in the Navy in Boston sometime in early 1861.[4]

Thomas Frederick Paige, Jr.'s USN Pension File (National Archives)

According to his pension file, Paige worked as a landsman on four different ships, including USS Minnesota, USS Princeton, USS St. Louis, and USS Macedonian.[5] Although archival records are not definitive, his time spent on Minnesota in late 1861 and early 1862 likely coincided with Minnesota’s famed involvement in the Battle of Hampton Roads on March 8-9, 1862. On March 8, punishing broadsides from the Confederate ironclad CSS Virginia crippled the Federal flotilla blockading southeastern Virginia, sinking USS Congress and USS Cumberland before forcing USS Minnesota to run aground off the coast of Newport News. Immobilized by a thick mud bank, Minnesota’s crew ferociously returned fire from CSS Virginia, CSS Jamestown, and CSS Patrick Henry while tugs worked to pull the steam frigate to safety. As the battle continued, the ironclad USS Monitor defended Minnesota’s crew from CSS Virginia’s attacks long enough for tugs to escort Minnesota back to Fort Monroe. Often overshadowed by the historic showdown between ironclads, Minnesota’s crew heroically withstood artillery barrages and returned fire throughout the two-day ordeal, protecting the Union blockade and ultimately helping USS Monitor neutralize the Confederacy’s most prized naval asset.

After the war, Thomas Paige—through his advocacy for racial equality—embodied the courage exhibited by Minnesota’s crew during the Battle of Hampton Roads. As the smoke cleared from Virginia’s battlefields and waterways, Thomas and Richard Paige immediately began advocating for recently emancipated African Americans. In the summer of 1865, prominent African Americans in Norfolk organized clubs that lobbied for Black political equality. Led by a former slave, dentist Dr. Thomas Bayne, community organizers established the “Colored Monitor Union Club” and gathered nearly 2,000 African American citizens on the steps of Catherine Street Baptist Church to listen to local speakers reflect on issues central to the Black community. The lectures were then published with the help of Thomas and Richard Paige—their Bostonian contacts connected them with E. Anthony and Sons, a Black press located in New Bedford, Massachusetts. The resulting pamphlet, Equal Suffrage: Address from the Colored Citizens of Norfolk, Va, to the People of the United States, called for Black male suffrage in state and local elections in order to obtain legislative representation and to ensure ex-slaveowners would be unable to re-form the Confederacy.[6] The Paige brothers, along with the Colored Monitor Union Club, financed the printing of 5,000 copies dispersed throughout the United States.[7]

Emboldened by his political leadership, Thomas Paige navigated persistent racial discrimination during Reconstruction to become a successful businessman and property owner in Norfolk. By 1872, Norfolk had 74 Black-owned businesses. Black entrepreneurs forged successful law practices, established importation companies, and opened barber shops. All six of the city’s oyster dealers were African American, and four Blacks held positions on the Freedmen’s Bank advisory board. Black social life experienced a renaissance, too. Norfolk’s Black community spent their leisure time attending lectures, hosting weekend picnics, and organizing grand parades complete with veterans in military dress and lively musical bands. By 1880, Thomas opened Paige’s Hotel, a boarding house centrally located on the western side of Market Square, Norfolk’s premier business district in the late nineteenth century. There, an exhausted dockyard worker could pay fifty cents per night for access to a warm bed, eat a hearty meal any time of the day, and play pool in the attached billiards hall while imbibing with “the best wines, liquors, and cigars” in Norfolk.[8]

Advertisement for Paige's Hotel in the Norfolk City Directory, 1880 

The story of Thomas Frederick Paige, Jr. is just one of the many unique narratives that can be uncovered when exploring the archival records of African American service members. For many Black Civil War veterans, serving in the Union Army and Navy meant more than performing their patriotic duty. Rather, it was a deeply personal endeavor to free their own parents, wives, and children from the same plantations from which they escaped. Once free, Black veterans like Thomas Paige built on their military careers by fighting for political rights and economic prosperity during Reconstruction and beyond.



Notes:
[1] Keith P. Wilson, Campfires of Freedom: The Camp Life of Black Soldiers during the Civil War (Kent, OH: Kent State University Press, 2013), 2.
[2] Segregation in the Navy | Naval History Magazine - February 2021 Volume 35, Number 1 (usni.org)
[3] Tommy L. Bogger, The Slave and Free Black Community in Norfolk, 1775–1865 (Ph.D. Dissertation, University of Virginia, 1976), 161–62; 188.
[4] Encyclopedia Virginia, “R. G. L. Paige (1846-1904),” Last modified (n.d.), Accessed Dec. 14, 2023, R. G. L. Paige (1846–1904) - Encyclopedia Virginia.
[5] The National Archives, Washington, DC, USA. U.S., Civil War Pension Index: General Index to Pension Files, 1861-1934; NAI Title: General Index to Civil War and Later Pension Files, Ca. 1949-Ca. 1949; NAI Number: 563268; Record Group Title: Records of the Department of Veterans Affairs, 1773-2007; Record Group Number: 15; Series Number: T288; Roll: 211. U.S., Civil War Pension Index: General Index to Pension Files, 1861-1934 - Ancestry.com
[6] Excerpts from Equal Suffrage: Address from the Colored Citizens of Norfolk, VA, to the People of the United States (1865), 5. Excerpted by the National Humanities Center, accessed September 28, 2023, http://nationalhumanitiescenter.org/pds/maai2/freedom/text5/equalsuffrage.pdf.
[7] Thomas C. Parramore, Peter C. Stewart, and Tommy L. Bogger, Norfolk: The First Four Centuries (Charlottesville, VA: University Press of Virginia, 1994), 227.
[8] Norfolk City Directory (1880), “Paige’s Hotel,” 177. Accessed Dec. 14, 2023. U.S., City Directories, 1822-1995 - AncestryLibrary.com.

African American Sailors in the Silent Service during World War Two

By Zach Smyers
HRNM Educator

Throughout the early 20th century, segregation in the U.S. armed forces significantly limited the roles in which African Americans could serve in the military. Prior to the Second World War, Black Sailors were only permitted to serve in the Navy as mess attendants and stewards. Despite many restrictive policies, African Americans and other minority groups continued to enlist in the Navy when permitted. This was especially true during the latter stages of the Great Depression, as military service meant food, shelter, and at least some degree of financial stability.[i]

Steward rating badge (Intrepidmuseum.com)

When the United States officially entered World War Two in December 1941, enlistment in all branches of the armed services increased tremendously. Americans were eager to fill the ranks. This recruitment surge included a significant number of African Americans. When the Second World War began, African Americans made up only 2.3% of the U.S. Navy. Even with segregation still deeply entrenched across the United States and discrimination rampant, many African Americans fought to do their part for the war effort.

Joseph Cross, a steward who made eight war patrols during WWII and received the Bronze Star (Naval Undersea Museum)

After June 1, 1942, African Americans could enlist for jobs outside of service ratings, although their options were again limited. Even with recruitment policy changes, the Navy was still heavily segregated, and African Americans serving on combat vessels were still primarily stewards. In addition to the surface fleet, the Navy’s submarine force was comprised only of volunteers, and it became an option for Black Sailors. Due to the hazardous nature of submarine duty, those who volunteered received additional pay. This included Black Sailors, which in turn motivated many stewards to volunteer for submarine duty. For African American stewards serving on submarines, there were many additional responsibilities. Stewards in the submarine fleet also served as ammunition passers, were assigned to gun crews, manned the helm, bow, or stern planes, and assisted with reloading torpedoes. 

However, life was much different on a submarine compared to a warship in the surface fleet. Submarine crews were typically very close, and despite the dangers they faced, they had high esprit de corps. Leonard Rozar, a Black Sailor who served aboard USS Tuna, referred to his shipmates as “a heck of a crew.” Alfred Hall, who served on USS Pomfret, had a similar experience, describing his crew as “like a family.”[ii] Typically, incidents of racism involving white and Black Sailors on a submarine crew resulted in the instigating Sailor being transferred off the submarine.

Sailors aboard USS Argonaut (NHHC)

During the war, 975 stewards served in the submarine force, and from 1941 to 1945, 785 stewards made war patrols. A war patrol could last anywhere from seven to fifty days, depending on the mission as well as the area of operation. Submarine Sailors prided themselves on earning their dolphin pin, which meant they were qualified as a Submarine Sailor. Submarine Sailors could also earn the combat patrol pin, which reflected their submarine’s number of war patrols. Black Submarine Sailors served with distinction and would often stay with the same submarine and crew as long as possible. For example, Officer’s Cook 3rd Class Arthur Brown made 12 war patrols with USS Narwhal (SS 167) from 1942 to 1944. Brown, who was 16 years old when he volunteered for the Navy, referred to the crew of Narwhal as “very good people.” He shared in a 2007 interview with Georgia Public Broadcasting how the CO of Narwhal emphasized the importance of the entire crew getting along due to the close quarters living conditions. Reflecting again on his life aboard Narwhal, Brown said, “I never had any trouble.”

Enlisted Sailor dolphin pin (Naval Undersea Museum)

The allied victory in World War Two came with a cost. Of the 3,505 U.S. Submariners killed in World War Two, 74 were African American stewards. Despite the limitations and discriminatory policies these men faced, they served with distinction and dedication. Ultimately, Harry Truman issued Executive Order 9981 on July 26, 1948, officially ending segregation and discrimination “on the basis of race, color, religion, or national origin” in the Armed Forces.

Crew of USS Seahorse (U.S. Navy)

Even though Executive Order 9981 had been issued, the opening of additional rates for African Americans in the Navy was still a slow process. It wasn’t until June 7, 1949, that the Navy allowed any man serving as a steward to change his rating. Throughout the 1950s, many Black stewards from World War Two began to make the change to other ratings, including among submarine crews. Popular choices included engineman, electronics technician, radioman, and yeoman. This decade included many firsts for African American Submariners. Among them was Chief Storekeeper James Owens, Jr. He became the first Black chief storekeeper in the submarine force, serving on the world’s first nuclear submarine, USS Nautilus (SSN 571). Chief Electrician’s Mate Roscoe Pennington, who made six war patrols during World War Two, was one of the first African Americans selected to attend nuclear power school. After completing his training, Chief Pennington received orders to USS Thresher (SSN 593), where he served as leading chief reactor technician.

ETC Roscoe Pennington (Naval Undersea Museum)

The 1960s was a decade of continuing change in the United States, with the Civil Rights Movement and the war in Vietnam. Young Americans, both Black and white, spoke out and protested for change. In the submarine force, change came in the form of nuclear-powered attack submarines, ballistic missile submarines, and leadership positions for Black submarine Sailors in both the senior enlisted and officer ranks. This change, however, continued to be a slow process considering that there wasn’t an African American officer commanding a submarine until 1983, when Captain Chancellor A. Tzomes became the CO of USS Houston (SSN 713).

Captain Chancellor Tzomes (U.S. Navy)

As of 2022, 6.4% of officers serving in the submarine force are African American. The enlisted ratings in the submarine force continue to be filled by Black Sailors, and the list of “first” achievements continues to grow. The hard work, determination, and dedication to duty of these Sailors is a fitting tribute to all of the African American stewards who served on submarines during World War Two. 

Several African American Sailors who have had a "first" in their career as members of the submarine force.[iii] (NavyLeagueMN.org) 

Notes:
[i] In 1932 there were only 441 African Americans serving in the U.S. Navy. Prior to 1932, enlistments of African Americans had been frozen which began in 1919. In January of 1942, Secretary of the Navy Frank Knox ordered the Navy’s General Board to develop a plan for increased recruiting of African Americans which would include a variety of duties. The General Board reached a decision in February of 1942 to have the Bureau of Navigation supply a list of potential duty assignments for African Americans. In April of 1942, the Navy announced that general service as well as service in the Messman branch would be available to African American enlistees starting on June 1, 1942.
[ii] Glenn A. Knoblock, Black Submariners In The United States Navy, 1940-1975 (London: McFarland & Company, 2005), 96-97.
[iii] From left to right: HMC(SS) Retired, James Mosely (First African American “Nuke” in submarine force); EMCM(SS) Retired, Early Vincent (One of the first African American nuclear electrician’s mates); Vice Admiral (SS) Retired, Bruce Grooms (Member of the “Centennial Seven”); STCM (SS) Retired, Ronald Ross (First African American to qualify as an Acoustic Intelligence Specialist earning the NEC ST-0416); and Lieutenant (SS) Nsombi Roberts (First African American woman selected for the submarine force from NROTC)

Before Chief Turpin: Other Early African American Chief Petty Officers

 

Chief Gunner's Mate John Turpin seen in the early 1920s. (Puget Sound Navy Museum)

Alexander Bright & Elijah Palmer
HRNM Educator and Deputy Director of Education

Chief Petty Officer John Henry Turpin has long been rightfully recognized as one of the most important African American Chief Petty Officers (CPOs) in American history. Among the first Black men to achieve such rank while serving aboard the cruiser USS Marblehead (CL 12) in 1917, during World War II he proudly wore his uniform again while recruiting young African Americans for the U.S. Navy. With a long career in the Navy and with prior fame having survived two terrible shipboard disasters (USS Maine in 1898 and USS Bennington in 1905) he received widespread recognition and his legacy was well established. However, due to Turpin’s popularity and readily accessible sources, other early African American CPOs have largely been overlooked. We recently discovered the names of three other African American Chief Petty Officers who made rank before Turpin: Chief Carpenter’s Mate Isaac A. Miller, Chief Gunner’s Mate John C. Jordan, and Chief Water Tender Frank E. Smith. Let’s take a closer look at each of their places in naval history.

USS Columbia (CL 12) seen (left) at Brooklyn Navy Yard in March 1903. The auxiliary cruiser USS Buffalo is seen in the foreground right. (Brooklyn Museum Collection)

Isaac Miller's story picks up on August 4th, 1903, the day he was promoted to Chief Carpenter’s Mate aboard USS Columbia (C 12) by Captain Snow, commanding officer of the receiving ship. After Navy leadership recognized Miller for his contributions aboard Columbia, while it docked at the Brooklyn Naval Yard, Captain Snow promoted the sailor to the rank of Chief Carpenter’s Mate, in charge of maintaining the ship’s condition. Little is known of Isaac Miller before this. He is only identified as having a long, respected career in the Navy as he worked his way up the ranks. Immediately following his promotion, disagreements erupted aboard Columbia. On August 5th, eight white chief petty officers publicly refused to eat with Miller in the chief’s mess. When asked why, one of the sailors did not hesitate to use a racial slur to justify their reasoning and decry it “an outrage [the Navy] should try to force [African Americans] in on us.” 

“Color Line is Now Drawn in the Navy,” Indianapolis News (August 7, 1903)

Chief's mess aboard USS Newark (C 1) in the 1890s. (Library of Congress) 

Miller’s promotion and the incidents on August 5th immediately drew the attention of both the Navy and the media. On the same day Chief Miller received his promotion, the New York Herald ran an article “Navy Tired of Negroes” that stated the explicit intent of some in the Navy to rid the service of African American sailors – “Naval officers believe the efficiency of the service will be increased if no more negroes are enlisted.”

(Left) New York Herald article on August 4, 1903 on Navy attitudes towards African American sailors, and (right) an editorial echoing this sentiment that was published directly below the August 7 article related to Chief Miller in the New York Herald. 

In response to the editorial piece, and perhaps in response to the prior day’s incidents involving Miller, another Chief Petty Officer wrote in agreement that the Navy should seek the end of black enlistments into service. Despite the outpouring of hatred toward Chief Miller, he remained calm and collected, refusing to engage with the racist rhetoric. Captain Snow reportedly remained supportive of Chief Miller as well, having said that, “Miller’s rights would be protected as the navy makes no distinction as to color.” Some 14 years before Turpin, Miller had achieved the rank of Chief Petty Officer.

Not long after Miller’s promotion, another black sailor, John C. Jordan, was promoted to the rank of Chief Petty Officer. Jordan’s career in the Navy has been much better preserved. Enlisting in 1887, he became Gunner’s Mate 2nd class by 1898. That year he was serving aboard USS Olympia (C 6), Commodore George Dewey’s flagship for the Battle of Manila Bay during the Spanish American War. Jordan was the port gun captain in Olympia’s forward 8-inch turret and earned the reputation of being one of the best gunners under Dewey’s command.

USS Olympia (C 6) and the rest of Dewey's fleet firing at Battle of Manila Bay (Library of Congress)

Jordan featured in a June 10, 1899 article from The Evening Star (findagrave.com) 

By 1900, he had reached Gunner’s Mate First Class and served aboard USS Iowa (BB 4) before finally being stationed at the U.S. Naval Academy to help train new officers. Sometime in early 1905, Jordan received his promotion to Chief Gunner’s Mate and seemingly met little resistance. While some high-ranking officials endeavored to end the advancement of African Americans in the Navy, sometimes stating the reason for denial could “be found in the applicant’s descriptive list” (e.g. race), shipboard officers could not ignore Jordan’s knowledge and prowess. Unfortunately, few details are known about Jordan’s promotions and whether or not they received public attention. Ultimately, however, Jordan’s attainment of the rank of Chief Gunner’s Mate in 1905 puts him alongside Chief Miller as one of the first African Americans to do so, and helped pave the way in the Gunner's Mate rating for Turpin to follow later.

Chief Jordan seen in his Chief Petty Officer uniform, likely near his retirement in 1916. (The Crisis, Vol. 17, Issue 6 (October 1917))

Engine fireroom aboard USS Brooklyn (C 3) in 1896. Note the African American sailor in the background. (Library of Congress)

Finally, in 1915, only two years before Turpin’s promotion, Frank E. Smith became Chief Water Tender as he retired. Notably, Smith was also a Medal of Honor recipient. Born in 1864, Smith joined the Navy in 1884 and the details of his career are unknown until 1900 when he was serving aboard USS Newark (C 1) as part of the Asiastic Squadron. According to his Medal of Honor citation, Smith was part of the Seymour relief expedition during the Boxer Rebellion and “distinguished himself by meritorious conduct” across four days of combat in June 1900. 

Members of the Seymour Expedition are seen in China in 1900. The American contingent is in the background. (Naval History and Heritage Command)

Despite the medal, and clear recognition of his excellence in his rating, Smith faced obstacles to achieve his aspirations of making Chief Water Tender. At one point Smith wrote to his commander, “It has been the height of my ambition to attain the rank of Chief Water Tender and have taken two exams, heretofore, yet could not attain my object – not for lack of ability, but suitability.” At the end of his service Smith did receive the promotion he had hoped for and retired as Chief Water Tender Smith.

The lives of Chiefs Isaac Miller, John Jordan, and Frank Smith tell us a new story of integration in the U.S. Navy. Nearly fifteen years before John Turpin made Chief Gunner’s Mate, these three men demonstrated how racial barriers were broken much earlier than his timeline suggests. Amid some of the most intense periods of racial violence in the United States at the start of the 20th century, the rise of these three men to the rank of chief represent the best of the Navy’s ability to recognize skill above skin color. Ultimately, although Chief John Henry Turpin has been rightfully recognized as a pioneer in race relations within the U.S. Navy, it is important we remain vigilant to other stories that might have been forgotten. The addition of the stories of Chiefs Miller, Jordan, and Smith to the historiography serve to deepen our knowledge about the history of race relations in the U.S. Navy. 

Further Reading/Sources

“Color Line is Now Drawn in the Navy,” Indianapolis News (August 7, 1903)

"Navy Tired of Negroes," New York Herald (August 4, 1903)

“Letter to the Editor,” New York Herald (August 7, 1903)

"Color Line Drawn in the Navy Yard," New York Herald (August 7, 1903)

“Color Line in the Navy,” Washington Post (August 7, 1903)

https://www.history.navy.mil/content/history/nhhc/research/library/online-reading-room/title-list-alphabetically/n/negro-navy-by-miller.html

https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/198865127/john-christopher-jordan

https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/66689481/frank-elmer-smith

https://www.bostonglobe.com/metro/2017/07/02/veteran-whose-valor-has-long-been-buried-will-finally-get-his-due/zHEkemVe5iBWAEKyjhNm1L/story.html

Hampton Institute and the Navy during the Second World War, Part II: The Compromise

The following is part two of a two-part series on Hampton University in Hampton, Virginia, during World War II, halfway through its 150-year history, and the little-known role what was then known as Hampton Institute played in the prelude to full integration in the United States Navy.

Sailors paint and tighten bolts on a landing craft while training at Hampton Institute during World War II. This boat appears to be a LCV type. This photograph was received by the Naval Photographic Science Laboratory on January 13, 1945. (Official U.S. Navy Photograph, now in the collections of the National Archives)

By mid-1940, much of the civilized world was in turmoil, and the American political landscape, not to mention civil society, was not untouched by the slaughter going on in Europe and the Far East. Sooner or later, war would come. This impending crisis was a threat to American citizens of all races, yet African Americans faced limited opportunities to participate in the defense of the nation, either within the private businesses that produced munitions and other war materiel for the military, or within the military itself.

The Hampton Conference

This stunted state of affairs drew the ire of Dr. Malcolm MacLean, who was chosen in July 1940 to became the sixth president of Hampton Institute (HI), one of the nation's oldest educational institutions for African Americans. Only days after officially taking office, MacLean hosted a national “Conference on the Participation of then Negro in National Defense” on November 25 & 26  to discuss the issue of why the burgeoning employment opportunities in the defense sector were passing African Americans by.

Dr. Malcolm MacLean. (Hampton University Digital Archives)

A common refrain that MacLean would sound at that conference and at appearances nationwide during his tumultuous tenure at Hampton Institute revolved around the tremendous waste in human resources that exclusionary and segregationist policies represented. He also compared those policies and the pseudo-scientific rationale behind them with those that he believed would cause the ultimate ruination of the Axis, rhetorically linking the forms of institutional racism maintained in the United States with that practiced by the Nazis.

"Nearly the whole American process of handling its Negro problem is a fundamental violation of both democracy and intellectual freedom. Further, it is an enormous wastage of human resources, a wastage that no nation, certainly no democracy, can afford," MacLean said in 1941 in a speech widely reported by the African American press nationwide. "If there is any one thing that will finally bring about the collapse of the [Nazi] dictatorship, it is the vast draining away of brains and ability from Germany, Poland, Austria, Belgium, and occupied France by their slaughter and suppression of brilliant, skilled, and trained Jews and Negroes and others on the basis of a fantastic and exploded theory of race superiority."

Before the conference had even started, MacLean received a letter from President Franklin D. Roosevelt, who wrote “It is heartening to know that in this time of stress and strain, when the whole nation is engaged in a mighty effort to gird itself against any challenge which a mad world may hurl at it, you and your associates at Hampton Institute are to hold a two-day conference on the participation of the Negro in national defense.” Roosevelt ended the letter with, "There could be no finer manifestation of the loyalty of the Negro, no more fitting rededication of himself to the cause of America, than the conference which you are holding. We who are at the center of the defense effort in Washington will take new heart from this sterling manifestation of devotion to country. You may be sure that suggestions and recommendations representing the views of your conference will be appreciated by those administering the program of national defense.”

These were no mere platitudes from the president, who was by then grappling with a significant amount of political pressure to do something about the hundreds of defense contractors nationwide that marginalized or flat-out refused to hire African Americans. Under pressure from the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People and the threat of a march on Washington from the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters, Roosevelt signed Executive Order 8802 on June 25, 1941, establishing the President’s Committee on Fair Employment Practice (FEPC). Not since the dissolution of the Freedmen’s Bureau had the federal government enacted a formal body to protect the civil rights of African Americans by making nondiscrimination a formal policy. Roosevelt would ultimately recruit MacLean to play a key role in the FEPC, and as an indirect result, Hampton Institute stood to benefit.

As president of the institute, MacLean labored not only to expand awareness of the abuse being meted out to skilled African American workers by racist defense contractors, but he was also acutely aware that the institute, still smarting from the financial woes brought on by the Great Depression, would also be left out of the surge of federal investment being made in other institutions of higher learning as a part of the war effort. Regardless of his or her pedagogical predilections, a university president is, after all, its chief fundraiser. "We are and must be wholly aware of the fact that the United States is in the midst of a world war," MacLean wrote in his first annual report to the institute in mid-1941. "Whether we conceive our part in that war as one of defense only or of active participation on an undeclared basis, nevertheless all that we do at Hampton Institute must be thought of and planned in relation to that war..."

The forward magazines of USS Arizona (BB 39) explode after she was hit by a Japanese bomb on the morning of December 7, 1941. Frame clipped from a color motion picture taken from on board USS Solace (AH 5). (Official U.S. Navy Photograph, now in the collections of the National Archives)

Hampton Institute Goes to War

World War II came early for Norfolk native and Hampton Institute alumnus Irvin C. Anderson. Although he had studied printing for two years at HI, the only occupation offered to him after his enlistment into the Navy in 1936 was that of a mess attendant. After graduating the Cooks and Stewards School at Naval Training Station Norfolk, he shipped off to his first ship, the battleship Arizona (BB 39), where he died on the morning of December 7, 1941. An unknown number of the 5,000 or so African Americans serving in the Navy at that time were Hampton Institute alumni, but it is certain that, regardless of what they had studied at the institute, they were restricted to being Messmen.

During World War II, over 90 percent of African Americans in the Navy worked in the Stewards Branch.  (Naval History and Heritage Command image)

Only one month before the Pearl Harbor attack, two students of HI's civilian pilot training program responded to letters from the Navy's Aviation Cadet Selection Board urging that they apply to be aviation cadets, only to be told in a terse reply that the Navy accepted "applications from Negroes in none but the messman branch." "While the Navy continues its urgent appeal for flyers," wrote a commentator for the Cleveland Gazette, "many hundreds of experienced 'Negro' American pilots, all over the country, continue to train for the day that they may serve in the defense of America." Considering that some Hampton Institute students had already left for the Tuskegee Institute in Alabama to receive advanced aviation training, with many going on to become members of the revered Tuskegee Airmen of the Army Air Corps, the Navy's tactical obfuscations were beginning to wear thin.

The FEPC was established to monitor compliance of new policies designed to end exclusionary policies practiced by civilian contractors, yet the Navy’s refusal to abide by similar rules became a sticking point early on, which in turn became the basis for the undoing of the Navy’s own racist policies. Yet the FEPC didn't exactly break the back of the Navy's segregationist system. The Hampton Institute's contribution to winning the war would ultimately become intertwined in the compromise struck between the FEPC, acting on behalf of the Roosevelt Administration, and the Navy.

The FEPC’s first chairman, Mark Etheredge, took the Navy to task over regressive racial policies that had been instituted after World War I, yet Navy Secretary Frank Knox, taking the side of the Navy’s General Board, paraphrased their general opinion that integration would erode the Navy’s warfighting capability, writing, “Experience of many years in the Navy has shown clearly that men of the colored race, if enlisted in any other branch than the messman’s branch, and promoted to the position of petty officer, cannot maintain discipline among men of the white race over whom they may be placed by reason of their rating.”

Relenting to pressure from the White House, on January 16, 1942, Knox asked the General Board to develop a plan to induct and train 5,000 African American recruits for jobs outside the Messman (by then known as the Steward) Branch. After considerable internal debate, particularly within the Bureau of Navigation, which held sway over personnel matters, President Roosevelt was informed that integration would pose an unacceptable risk to efficiency; not because of any inherent deficiency on the part of the African Americans, but because of white resistance to them at the deck plate level. Roosevelt, having been an assistant secretary of the Navy during World War I, did not buy the argument. By this time, Roosevelt had appointed Dr. MacLean as chairman of the committee, and it was he who came to an agreement with Knox permitting African Americans to enlist in the general service. Nevertheless, Knox only agreed with the provision that they be trained separately from white recruits.

Looking less than enthused, Secretary of the Navy Frank Knox enlists William Baldwin, the first of thousands of African Americans to enlist for the general service in the Navy during World War II, on June 2, 1942.  Until Knox and the Navy Department relented to pressure from the Roosevelt Administration, African Americans could only enlist into the Messman (later Stewards) Branch. (National Archives and Records Administration via Naval History and Heritage Command/Flickr)

On April 21, 1942, Knox approved a plan to begin enlisting 1,000 African Americans a month on June 1, in occupations other than stewards or mess attendants, as well as allowing 900 to enlist in the Marine Corps. On June 18, Dr. MacLean announced that Hampton Institute would be one of the two locations where advanced training for African Americans in the Navy would occur. After eight weeks of basic training at Camp Robert Smalls at Naval Training Station (NTS) Great Lakes (named for an African American naval hero from the Civil War and commanded by Hampton Institute founder Samuel C. Armstrong’s son, Lt. Cmdr. Daniel W. Armstrong), “128 carefully selected men” would undergo 16 weeks of training at Hampton Institute. The schools to be established there were essentially duplicates of Class "A" schools just a mile away at NTS Norfolk and at NTS San Diego.

Seaman George Clinton Fields is congratulated by Lt. Cmdr. Daniel W. Armstrong as he graduates with honors from Camp Robert Smalls, the segregated basic training facility at Naval Training Station Great Lakes in September 1942. Fields' last job before joining the Navy was as a valet to President Franklin D. Roosevelt.  Armstrong's father was Brig. Gen. Samuel C. Armstrong, founder of Hampton Institute. (Official U.S. Navy Photograph, now in the collections of the National Archives) 

On September 12, 1942, the U.S. Naval Training School, Hampton Institute, officially opened with Lt. Cmdr. Edwin H. Downes commanding a staff of 11 officers and 28 enlisted personnel. The first 128 basic training graduates that arrived from Great Lakes six days later took their places in the electrician, motor machinist, machinist, metalsmith, and carpentry schools on campus three days after that. In addition, the Cooks and Bakers School that had been based at Naval Training Station Norfolk was moved to the Chamberlin Hotel, which had been owned by the Navy since January 1942, and made part of the HI training program.

Sailors study small craft & automotive electrical systems training at Hampton Institute during World War II. This photograph was received by the Naval Photographic Science Laboratory on 13 January 1945. (Official U.S. Navy Photograph, now in the collections of the National Archives)

Within a year, the student body at HI had grown to nearly 900 at any given time, and the naval staff had grown to 139. In addition, the monthly student quota for the HI program was raised to 187, with 30 going to the Cooks and Bakers School at the Chamberlin Hotel near Fort Monroe. The regular machinist course was discontinued in 1943, but a shipfitter's course was added. Meanwhile, the Navy built a brand-new instructional building featuring a large diesel machine shop, and a large recreational building featuring a gym and auditorium was also added to the campus. A boat house was also built after a coxswain school was added to the curriculum.

Looking northwest from an aircraft flying over Armstrong Field (now known as Armstrong Stadium), the U.S. Naval Gymnasium, which opened in April 1943 (later known as Williams Gym, which was replaced by the Hampton University Student Center), lies across Marshall Avenue, with Phenix Hall located behind it.  In addition to the gymnasium, the building contained a drill hall, an auditorium equipped with a movie projection room, and even a tiled swimming pool.  A young seaman named John Thomas Biggers painted a mural for the building, and another of the works he created while on active duty with the Navy at Hampton Institute was displayed at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, catapulting him to national prominence.  (Hampton Roads Naval Museum Collection)

Located on Fort Monroe, the Chamberlin Hotel was acquired by the Navy in January 1942 to house transient officers during the war.  The Navy Cooks and Bakers School, which was located at NTS Norfolk from 1933 to 1942, moved here after the establishmant of the U.S. Naval Training School at Hampton Institute in September 1942 and trained up to 100 African American students at any given time in its kitchens. (Hampton Roads Naval Museum Collection)

Malcolm MacLean Goes to War

As president of Hampton Institute and chairman of the FEPC, Malcolm MacLean made the establishment of the Navy school on campus, as well as the investment and construction that came with it, possible. The institute had been spending more than it was making since 1922, but in 1943, the first full year after the establishment of the Naval Training School, Hampton Institute's deficit from the year before was cut by 94 percent.

Despite the success with the Navy school, all was not going well with MacLean's tenure at HI, to the point that he abruptly resigned to join the Navy himself. Only one month after MacLean assumed the presidency of the institute in 1940, columnist L. Baynard Whitney of the Cleveland Plaindealer observed that "Dr. Maclean has already... locked horns with the Status Quo who hate his method, fear his pace, and tremble at the boldness of his vision." After over two years of stiff resistance from the faculty and trustees over a broad range of changes he wished to make at the institute, he resigned in January 1943, taking a lieutenant commander’s commission in the Navy and a posting at the War Department School of Military Government in Charlottesville, Virginia. In the wake of MacLean’s sudden exit from Hampton, the institute’s board of trustees approved MacLean's pick as his successor, R. O’Hara Lanier, who had been serving as dean of instruction, as interim president. For the first time in its 75-year history, Hampton Institute was led by a black man.

After Secretary Knox's death in April 1944, James Forrestal took a different approach towards African Americans as Navy secretary, and on his watch the segregationist policies of the Navy would come to an end, negating the need for separate "A" schools for them.  By the time the last graduation ceremony was held at Hampton Institute on August 15, 1945, approximately 5,000 Sailors had graduated from the Navy program, including most of the Sailors who manned the destroyer escort Mason (DE 529), which proved that a largely African American crew could perform its duties on par with white Sailors, as well as the man who would become the Navy’s first African American flag officer, Samuel Lee Gravely, Jr.

After the closure of the program, Hampton Institute faced the same type of cutoff in federal funding as it had after the dissolution of the Freedmen's Bureau during the institute's infancy and the discontinuance of training for Native Americans in 1923.  Dr. Ralph P. Bridgman, HI's president at the close of the war, sought to maintain a naval presence at the institute, at least in the form of the Naval Reserve Officers Training Corps (NROTC), something that would happen at many colleges and universities across the nation, but the Navy declined on the grounds that the student body was of insufficient size to warrant it. "Hampton's prexy has already protested [the] Navy's plans to discontinue the Jim-Crow school [at Hampton Institute], and has been informed that you can't preach integration while begging for the practice of segregation," quipped columnist Paul Pentagon in the magazine Headlines and Pictures. 

Although Hampton Institute was turned down in its bid to maintain a postwar Navy presence via the NROTC, they were not alone. In fact, the NROTC eschewed all traditionally African American institutions of higher learning for another two decades, finally establishing a unit at Prairie View A&M in Texas in 1965. Hampton University finally became part of the Hampton Roads NROTC consortium, which also includes Norfolk State University and Old Dominion University, in July 1982.

Now celebrating its sesquicentennial, Hampton University maintains a Navy presence on campus via its NROTC detachment, but it has never approached the level of coordination with the Navy as it had during World War II, after which any pretensions that segregation was good for the sea services were finally extinguished.