Taking a Stand for Equal Treatment on the Mason Dixon Line in 1904

Madison House North East MD below Mason-Dixon Line
A matchbook cover for the Madison House in North East notes that the place on Route 40 is just below the Mason-Dixon Line.

Nearly sixty years before Freedom Riders started a campaign to open restaurants, motels, bars, and other public places to all travelers on Route 40, Cecil County found itself in the middle of another Civil Rights divide.   The Maryland Legislature decided the State needed a Jim Crow law in 1904 that required steamship lines and railroads to maintain “separate but equal facilities.”

Once the segregation requirement went into effect on July 1, 1904, African-American ticketholders on the Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Washington Railroad trains and the Ericsson Line steamers heading south from northern points had to move to the “colored compartment” after the train rumbled across the Mason Dixon Line.

To comply with the Maryland regulation signed by Governor Edwin Warfield, the railroad constructed Jim Crow coaches at the Wilmington shops.  Two worked the Delaware Road, traveling branch lines up and down the Delmarva Peninsula.  These were ordinary coaches, divided off by partitions capable of seating 15 people at one end of the car with a sign saying “colored” on the compartment.  On the mainline, the accommodation train running down to Baltimore had a “colored coach” attached.

The segregated cars appeared promptly on July 1, the midnight train reaching Elkton being equipped in accordance with Maryland’s rule.   About noon that day, a Philadelphian, an African-American, objected to the order at Iron Hill.  After a “parley” with the conductor, he was put off the train in North East.  “His actions showed pretty conclusively that he was hunting for trouble to bring suit against the railroad company,” the Cecil County News informed readers.

But the practical working of Jim Crow got its first real test as the people observed Independence Day in 1904.  The Elkton African-American community sponsored a grand picnic celebrating the Fourth of July.   Several hundred people from Pennsylvania and Delaware received invitations, so the coaches were crowded on the holiday with festive passengers heading to Elkton.  Most of them were surprised, this being their first experience with the “Separate Car Act.”   While riding quietly along on the coaches with white ticketholders, the conductor called out as they rumbled across the Mason-Dixon Line, “colored coach in the rear.”

As the significance of the conductor’s announcement surprised many, some moved to the segregated seats, but several refused to obey the Jim Crow law.  The conductor thus ordered the train held at Iron Hill Station, and several passengers were put off, having to walk to Elkton.  A band from Newark was in this group, as they refused to move.  One African-American passenger, a lawyer, made “a ten-minute speech, in which he tried to console his companions, asking each one to try to find out exactly who was responsible for the obnoxious law,” the Cecil Democrat reported.

Jim Crow on the Mason Dixon Line
A page from the Philadelphia, Wilmington and Baltimore Railroad Guide published in the 1850s describes the Mason-Dixon Line.

A few days later, a train was delayed at Perryville because of the refusal to give up the seat and move to the designated coach.  In North East, William King, an African-American from Philadelphia, was put off the train.  When the train reached Iron Hill, the conductor read the Maryland law to him.  He refused, and at North East, the railroad man forcefully ejected him from the train.

Sheriff Biddle made the first arrest in Cecil County for violating the new Jim Crow Law.  James Griffin refused to go to the designated seats when a southbound train reached Elkton.  Sheriff Biddle was notified, and he placed Griffin under arrest, taking him to jail.   The next day, he appeared before Magistrate Henry Gilpin, who held him under $200 bail for his appearance in the September term of the Circuit Court.

On the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal, William T. Finley, an African-American physician from Atlantic City, traveled on the Philadelphia and Baltimore Steamship Company (The Ericsson Line) to Baltimore.  He filed a suit to recover $5,000 in damages for being subjected to the Jim Crow Law of Maryland.

Finley purchased a first-class ticket for passage from Philadelphia to Baltimore. About midnight, when the steamer reached the Maryland Line, he was aroused from his sleep by a company official who ordered him to the upper deck of the boat.  When the doctor objected, saying he had purchased first-class passage, he was told that the “colored apartment was above.

Another person who had the courage to resist the order to move was an attorney and Howard University Professor of corporate law, William Henry Harrison Hart and his sister Clementine Bartlett of Washington, D.C.  Conductor George C. Alcron sent for the sheriff and when the southbound 12:34 pulled into the Elkton Station Deputy Sheriff J. Wesley McAllister boarded.  “At the sight of the officer, the woman gracefully yielded and took her place in the car.  The lawyer was given the choice of the proper car or the jail, and refusing the former was escorted to a cell,” the Cecil Whig reported.

Hart spent two days in the Elkton Jail, the Whig wrote, noting that the professor was “somewhat of a philanthropist.”   He conducted a school for boys, the Hart Farm School and the Junior Republic for Dependent Colored Boys, largely at his own expense.  It was situated on 700 acres of land he also purchased.   “He is a lecturer at the Howard (colored) University Law School and is said to enjoy the esteem of the Bar and Courts of the District, having served for twenty years.  He will probably take through trains, to which the law does not apply, hereafter, when passing through Maryland.”

William Henry Harrison Hart arrested violating jim crow law elkton
“William Henry Harrison Hart” by William Dana Hart – He was arrested for violating a Jim Crow law in Elkton. Via Wikimedia Commons

Hart also practiced law for the United States Treasury and the United States Department of Agriculture and served as the Assistant Librarian of Congress.  He was the first black lawyer appointed as a special U.S. District Attorney for the District of Columbia, in 1889.

The attorney challenged Maryland’s law that made it a crime for blacks and whites to ride together in the same car in the courts.  He was traveling in the whites-only section, which had been okay until he crossed the Mason-Dixon Line.  Having refused to move into the blacks-only car, Hart was charged and convicted of violating the “separate car law” and was fined $50 in the Circuit Court.

The fine was not paid, and the defendant immediately appealed to the Court of Appeals.    The lawyer added that if necessary, he would take the case to the U.S. Supreme Court as the Jim Crow Law was not only unconstitutional but was also in conflict with the Interstate Commerce Law, the Baltimore Sun reported.

When the State vs. Hart made it to the bench at the Court of Appeals, the judges “sustained the Jim Crow Law, but held that the provisions of that measure cannot apply to interstate passengers,” as the distinguished Howard University Professor argued, the Washington Post reported.  Hart was on a through train from New York to Washington, so the decision of the lower court was reversed but the law was sustained.

Hart did not like Rosa Parks become a household word, observes C. Frazer Smith in “Here Lies Jim Crow:  Civil Rights in Maryland.  “Such moments of defiance got little attention and probably not by accident.”

Maryland lawmakers had created this legislation after the Supreme Court legitimized segregation in the case of Homer Plessy v. Ferguson. a decision that upheld the constitutionally of state laws requiring segregation in public facilities under the doctrine of separate but equal.

Incidents continued but after several decades enforcement of the frequently modified legislation quietly stopped.  Finally in 1951, after many years of trying to repeal the laws requiring the separation of passengers on intra-state railroads and steamboats, it was put to rest in 1951, the language being pulled from the State Codes.

Every challenged injustice building up to the post-World War II Civil Rights movement put a spotlight on the fight for equal rights while chipping away at Jim Crow.  The brave stand of Hart and others had made it clear that segregation wasn’t permitted for interstate passengers traveling on Maryland railroads and steamships.  Each step inspired other advocates to push for equal treatment, and Cecil County, bordered as it is by the Mason Dixon Line on two sides, sometimes found itself on the front lines when people had to take risks, standing up for equal treatment.

Cecil County Circuit Court docked showing the case of State of Maryland v. Hart.  Source:  Court Docket, Cecil County Courthouse
Cecil County Circuit Court docked showing the case of State of Maryland v. Hart as the Jim Crow law was enforced here.
Jim Crow -- On the Mason Dixon Line between Westminster, MD and Gettysburg, PA.
On the Mason Dixon Line between Westminster, MD and Gettysburg, PA. In the early 20th century Jim Crow laws were enforced south of the ancient boundary.

For more on Jim Crow and Civil Rights in Cecil County

Freedom Riders on Route 40

Remembering Cecil County Civil Rights Leader and Activist

Elkton Police Arrest of Ambassador From Iran Causes International Incident in 1935

Elkton Police Chief Jake Biddle
Elkton Police Chief Jake Biddle in 1935. Source: Baltimore Sun

If there was anything remarkable about that Wednesday in November 1935 in Elkton, it was the new policeman directing traffic on the main thoroughfare from Washington to New York. Seventy-year-old Chief George Potts, having maintained tranquility in the town for twenty-eight years, had recently retired.  The rookie, Jake Biddle, was going to make a fine replacement as the top cop in Cecil County’s largest town and its two-man force, the locals remarked.

Eloping couples were streaming into the courthouse, while the marrying parlors were packed with nearly forty weddings, but that was routine.  President Franklin Delano Roosevelt was in the White House struggling with the nation’s economic woes.  Far away in the Middle East, the ruler of Iran, Reza Shah Pahlavi was on the throne, but few people recognized his name.  As far as anyone knew, it was going to be another unremarkable day for the town of 3,000 people.

But once that shiny Packard blasted onto Main Street “at a terrible speed,” the town was caught in an incident involving international law, wounded Iranian dignity, and disruption of diplomatic relations.

Chief Biddle was downtown when he noticed the fast-moving vehicle.  In it was Iran’s ambassador hurrying from Washington to New York for a dinner date, along with his British-born wife, a pet dog, and the chauffeur.  When the policeman gave a blast on the whistle the driver pulled to the curb.  As Biddle walked up to the Packard, he wasn’t put off by the lettering on its side that read “Ghaffar Khan Djalal, Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary of His Imperial Majesty the Shah of Iran.”  The diplomatic license plate didn’t register either.

Stories about what happened next vary widely, but whatever the case, the run-in escalated with the Ambassador of Iran. One local paper said, “When Biddle approached the car, the minister, who it is said had been drinking pushed him away, and when Biddle refused to allow the envoy to proceed, he got out of the car and engaged in a scuffle. “  So unruly had the diplomat become that handcuffs were snapped on his wrists, the paper continued.  Constable Clayton Ellison who lived nearby was roused from a catnap by the disturbance so he rushed over to help as did old Chief Potts as a growing crowd watched the tense, unfolding scene downtown.

Producing his State Department credentials and a business card identifying his lofty position, the Persian Prince asked to straighten things out by calling Secretary Cordell Hull, the Far East Desk, or someone in Washington, D.C.  But the officers weren’t letting a little noise distract them from their sworn duty to uphold Maryland Traffic Laws.

At some point, the bunch was carted off to the jail. When it was explained to the jailer that the minister of Iran was involved, he wasn’t impressed either, accustomed as he was to so many marrying reverends in the Gretna Green.  “Minister, eh?  Just another preacher.  Throw ‘em in the cell!” quoted the Associated Press.

Everyone had concluded the same thing.  From the crowd watching the police action to Biddle and the deputy at the jail, it was universally agreed that he was a “marrying minister” trying to grab some of cupid’s lucrative Elkton business.

At the lockup, the ambassador again protesting that his diplomatic immunity was violated, asked to call Washington, but the request was denied. When the lawmen found that the trial magistrate wasn’t available they packed up the group for a trip to North East.  There the justice of the peace, George C. Rawson, thought the situation was a little ticklish so he allowed the Persian representative to call the State Department.  When the Far East duty officer got the judge on the line, the charges were quickly dropped as the magistrate told everyone in the hearing room that a “foreign minister can do no wrong.”

Once the judge determined that not all speeders could be treated equally, it wasn’t long before the Elkton police discovered that they had stumbled upon one of “Washington’s prize foreign squawkers,” as a local newspaper labeled the emissary. Djalal grumbled to New York Papers, saying that the “Elkton police were no diplomats,” or a least that’s what the headline screamed.  As soon as he returned from New York, where he “rushed for an urgent official engagement” he would make a formal complaint with the State Department, he assured newspapermen.

The Shah of Iran was outraged when he heard that police officer grappled with his dignitary . . . snapping the degrading shackles of a criminal on his wrist” as Time reported.  After a protest was lodged, federal investigators took affidavits, followed by closed-door meetings with officials at the highest level of government.  To pacify Iran, the officers, Biddle and Clayton, were convicted of assault and fired, while the president, governor, and mayor issued formal apologies.

It might have all faded into the mist of time, but for an enterprising photographer from the Baltimore Sun. He got three of the lawmen to pose for a picture a few weeks after with a caption reading:  “These gyves [shackles] were snapped on Iran’s Envoy.”  Local authorities thought they could quietly reinstate the officers, but the photograph and their action again grabbed headlines.  This touched off another international incident for an apology was no longer sufficient for the now furious shah.  He ordered the minister recalled, closed the embassy, and evicted U.S. representatives from Persia, breaking off all diplomatic relations with the United States for three years.

Elkton police arrested Iran's ambassador
Following the arrest of the Ambassador of Iran, Cecil County lawmen display the handcuffs used to shackle the ambassador while he was transported to the jail. From L to R: Sheriff Eugene Racine, Constable Clayton Ellison, and Elkton Chief Jake Biddle. source: Baltimore Sun.

So how did the arrest of the Ambassador of Iran end? With the federal government carefully monitoring municipal actions, Biddle quickly hung up his holster and badge at the order of the town council.  The rookie chief returned to farming at a quiet spot far off the main New York to Washington, road traveled by dignitaries.  As for Elkton patrolmen, they steered clear of run-ins with foreign ambassadors or at least we have found any additional references to trouble with the agency in the Journal of International Law.  And diplomats, envoys, and marrying ministers for that matter were likely to use a little more caution when traveling through this corner of northeastern Maryland.

John Denver, a Past President of the Maryland State Firemen’s Associaton, Talks to the Singerly Listening Station

John Denver (center), in a photo from his time as president of the Maryland State Firemen's Association.  HIs two vice-presidents stand with him.
John Denver (center), in a photo from his time as president of the Maryland State Firemen’s Association. HIs two vice-presidents stand with him.

John Denver, a past president of the Maryland State Firemen’s Association, joined the ranks as a probationary member of the Singerly Fire Company in 1968.  Over the decades, he served the company in many positions, and two years ago he served as in the senior leadership position with the State Association.

In this session with the Singerly Listening Station, an oral history project of the Elkton Fire Department, John shares his stories about the company.  This is a brief outtake from a much longer interview, which is being archived for future projects and research purposes.