THE MARTINSVILLE SEVEN AND SOUTHERN JUSTICE: RACE, CRIME, AND CAPITAL PUNISHMENT IN VIRGINIA, 1949-1951 By ERIC WALTER RISE A DISSERTATION PRESENTED TO THE GRADUATE SCHOOL OF THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA 1992 — ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Several years ago, long before my hairline receded and my waistline expanded, Kermit Hall suggested that the Martinsville Seven case might make an interesting topic for a research paper. The case raised issues of cold war politics, civil rights and civil liberties, and the administration of criminal justice, all topics that interested me, so I heeded his advice. The project has grown considerably since then, and Professor Hall must receive much of the credit for that transformation. Throughout this endeavor he has tendered useful advice, dispensed timely and constructive criticism, and continually assured me that I had undertaken a worthwhile project. His support extended beyond matters of the dissertation as well, and he eased many of the stresses of graduate school education. The other members of my supervisory committee David Colburn, Michael Radelet, John Sommerville, Anne Spitzer, and Robert Zieger—also displayed an extraordinary amount of interest in my work. Their collective advice, representing a broad range of disciplinary and methodological perspectives, greatly improved my scholarship. The practice of history is a collegial endeavor, and several scholars graciously volunteered information that enhanced the quality of the dissertation. In the early stages of the project Charles H. Martin saved me untold hours of research by directing me to most of the pertinent archival collections. Jerome Gorman, an anti-death penalty activist in Richmond, sent me photocopies of material he had collected about the case. Peter Wallenstein shared his files on the justices of the Virginia Supreme Court of Appeals, and Richard B. Sherman supplied some elusive biographical data on Martin A. Martin, the principal attorney in the Martinsville case. Jack Henderson directed me to numerous sources on the historiography of communism and African-Americans. Charles Martin and Mary Dudziak also read earlier versions of the dissertation and provided sage and encouraging advice. The writing of history would be impossible without access to sources, and the librarians and archivists I encountered during my research performed their duties with uncommon courtesy and professionalism. The staffs of the Alderman Library at the University of Virginia, the circuit executive's office of the Fourth U. S. Circuit Court of Appeals, the Patrick Henry Community College Library, the Margaret I. King Library at the University of Kentucky, the National Archives —Mid-Atlantic Region, the Richmond Public Law Library, the Richmond Public Library, the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, the Harry S. Truman Library, the Swem Library at the College of William and Mary, the clerk's office of the U. S. District Court for the Eastern District of Virginia, the Virginia State Law Library, the Virginia State Library and Archives, the Virginia Commonwealth University Library, and the Washington National Records Center all provided expert assistance. I would particularly like to acknowledge the courtesies extended by Joe Sullivan at the Library of Congress and Carl DeHart at the Blue Ridge Regional Library in Martinsville. Rick Donnelly and Rosalie Sanderson of the University of Florida's Legal Information Center patiently nurtured my research skills in my dual role as law student and historian. Melanie Davis in the University's Interlibrary Loan Office unearthed mounds of obscure material. Special thanks go to Ashby R. Pritchett, clerk of the Martinsville Circuit Court, who provided me with access to the trial transcripts and other court records, ample work space, and a pleasant working environment during my visits to Martinsville. I am especially grateful to Oliver Hill and the late Roland Ealey, who graciously took time out of their busy schedules to explain the legal strategy that the NAACP developed in the Martinsville case. As a native of the South, a fertile breeding ground of raconteurs and tellers of tall tales, I have always been skeptical of the value of oral history. Mr. Hill and Mr. Ealey introduced me to the perspective, detail, and local color that only participants in the making of history can provide. I would like to thank the taxpayers of Florida for funding several assistantships and fellowships from the Department of History, the College of Law, and the Center for Studies in Criminology and Law at the University of Florida. My sojourn at the Center was considerably enlivened by its director, Charlie Thomas, who continually threatened to make a criminologist out of me and ultimately succeeded. I am also indebted to Gus Burns, who furnished me with several summers of employment as associate director of his NEH summer institute programs. The Society of Colonial Dames in St. Augustine also provided a generous award that allowed me to travel to primary source collections in Virginia. I also appreciated the hospitality of a fellow Gator, Dave Uible, while I did research in Washington. I would never have survived graduate school without the support of family and friends. Jeff Brautigam, Chris Morris, Dave Tegeder, and Joe Thompson were especially helpful in maintaining my sanity. Every Friday we met for lunch to debate politics, sports, cinema, and occasionally, the nature of history. John Benske was a constant source of companionship and Caribbean refreshment before he moved to Miami. I have also learned the value of having a close-knit family. Aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, and in-laws all expressed an interest in my studies. My brother and former roommate, Bruce Rise, drew me away from scholarly pursuits at the appropriate moments, while my sister, Kim Kalaman, remains the only other family member who appreciates the genius of the Three Stooges. My parents, Walter and Beverly Rise, were always supportive of my decision to pursue the history profession. I credit their love and support with instilling in me a passion for knowledge. Finally, I must thank my wife, Karen, for being an unflagging source of encouragement and good humor. Karen performed more than her fair share of household duties to give me time to finish the dissertation, but she also knew when to put her foot down and draw me back into the real world. She badgered me to mow the lawn, cajoled me into taking her to the movies, castigated me for being a perfectionist and a procrastinator, and brought home a dog that demanded to go outside every time I sat down to write. For all these diversions, for her love and understanding, and for the most wonderful home-cooked meals that a Yankee could possibly prepare, I owe her my deepest thanks. TABLE OF CONTENTS page ACKNOWLEDGMENTS iii ABSTRACT ix CHAPTERS 1 INTRODUCTION 1 Notes 8 2 PORTRAIT OF A SOUTHERN TOWN 11 Notes 21 3 A RAPE IN MARTINSVILLE 24 Notes 55 4 "A MATTER FOR THE JURY TO DECIDE" 59 Notes 99 5 ARRANGEMENT IN RED AND BLACK 105 Notes , 133 6 "NO ABUSE OF DISCRETION": THE MARTINSVILLE SEVEN IN THE APPELLATE COURTS 139 Notes 182 7 "WITH AN EVIL EYE AND AN UNEQUAL HAND": CHALLENGING THE DEATH PENALTY 190 Notes 245 8 THE ELEVENTH HOUR 253 Notes 279 9 CONCLUSION 283 Notes 293 BIBLIOGRAPHY 296 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 317 Abstract of Dissertation Presented to the Graduate School of the University of Florida in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy THE MARTINSVILLE SEVEN AND SOUTHERN JUSTICE: RACE, CRIME, AND CAPITAL PUNISHMENT IN VIRGINIA, 1949-1951 By Eric Walter Rise December 1992 Chairman: Kermit L. Hall Major Department: History In February 1951, seven black men convicted of raping a white woman died in the electric chair of the Virginia State Penitentiary. Never before had a state executed as many men for a single rape incident. To many civil rights organizations, including the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) and the more radical Civil Rights Congress (CRC) , the executions of the "Martinsville Seven" evoked images of Scottsboro and other instances of the discriminatory administration of justice in the South. Certain striking characteristics distinguished the Martinsville case from classic "legal lynchings," however, including the absence of mob protest, the trial court's concern for procedural regularity, and the apparent guilt of the defendants. These differences forced NAACP attorneys to reject narrow procedural challenges in favor of a direct attack on the discriminatory application of the death penalty. In fact, the Martinsville case was one of the earliest instances in which attorneys marshalled statistical evidence to prove systematic discrimination against African-Americans in capital cases. The executions of the Martinsville Seven, more than any other case, demonstrated the power of the Southern legal system to enforce codes of racial behavior. Even in the Scottsboro case, the cause celebre for a generation of combatants against racial injustice, all of the defendants escaped execution and four of the men even avoided lengthy prison terms once procedural violations had been corrected. Because the Martinsville court had adhered to established procedural rules, NAACP attorneys initiated a broad attack on systemic racism in the legal process. At the same time, the NAACP struggled to distance itself from the CRC, which advanced similar criticisms of the American legal system, because the perceived cooperation between the two organizations undermined the efforts of NAACP leaders to link the cause of civil rights to the Cold War liberal agenda. The strategies and tactics of the NAACP, which had met only limited success in saving innocent African- Americans from execution, proved even less effective when applied to guilty defendants during a period characterized by xenophobic anticommunism and the related fear of emerging black activism.