World War I and the Federal Presence in New Mexico
Black Soldiers at Camp Furlong
The front-page article in the Albuquerque Morning Journal for Sunday August 26, 1917
reported “Colored Troops Not Disorderly at Deming Camp.” Military officials and the
Deming sheriff “denied published reports that an impending clash between civilians of
Deming and members of the Second battalion of the Twenty-fourth United States Infantry
(colored) stationed here [Deming] had caused the removal of the troops.” The same officials
said the Twenty-fourth’s relocation to their home base at Camp Furlong in Columbus “had
been expected for a week.”
Not mentioned in the article, but known to everyone, was the riot earlier in the week
by another battalion of the Twenty-fourth Infantry. On Thursday evening August 23, 150 of
the 654 black enlisted men in the Twenty-fourth’s Third Battalion mutinied at Houston’s
Camp Logan. After commandeering rifles and ammunition, they marched in formation for
three hours along the streets of west Houston, where they shot and killed twenty civilians.
Forty-eight hours later two trains pulled out of Houston carrying the Third Battalion back to
its base in Columbus, New Mexico.
The “Houston Riot of 1917” is a stark reminder of smoldering hatred. White Texans
(and many others throughout the South) embraced “Jim Crow” segregation laws to enforce
demeaning and discriminatory practices such as separate seating sections for blacks. Black
challenges to racist practices resulted in violence. When a black soldier of the Third
Battalion, unused to Houston’s Jim Crow practices, ignored a streetcar’s “colored section,” a
beating by police ensued. Other police assaults on soldiers coalesced into a call for reprisals,
which led to a spontaneous black mutiny.
The troops of the Third Battalion had recently returned from the Philippines, where
acceptance by locals meant their four-year tour “constituted one of their most pleasant
assignments.” Six months after returning to the United States, and immediately following
PanchoVilla’s raid on Columbus, the Twenty-fourth received orders to reinforce Camp
Furlong. The troops guarded the 150 mile supply line linking General Pershing’s
headquarters in Mexico to the border. The unit’s three battalions remained at Camp Furlong
after all troops exited Mexico in early February 1917. In late July came new orders: guard
duty at camps being built for recruits to the new National Army. The First Battalion
departed for Camp MacArthur in Waco, Texas, while the Second and Third, respectively,
went to Camp Cody in Deming and Camp Logan in Houston.
At three courts martial between November 1917 and March 1918 a total of sixtythree soldiers of the Twenty-fourth Battalion faced military justice. The first convictions, on
mutiny and murder, led to hanging thirteen soldiers just outside Houston on December 11,
1917. Forty-one sentenced to life in prison served terms of varying length, with most
released by the early 1930s and the last soldier left Ft. Leavenworth in1938. The reminder of
the Twenty-fourth’s troops spent the war years at Camp Furlong, and beginning in April
1920 and throughout the next several years the Twenty-four were the only U.S. Army troops
stationed in Columbus, New Mexico.
Race relations in southern New Mexico were markedly better than in Houston, but it
took awhile for rumors and emotions to quiet down. At the end of August, newspapers in
Texas fanned the flames of racism by predicting violence in Columbus. A Houston paper
claimed a soldier on the departing train tossed a slip of paper stuffed into an empty cartridge
shell. Military officials deemed it “of a threatening nature.” It read: “We done our part in
Houston and are on our way to Columbus, New Mexico.” More ominous threats were
intercepted by agents of the Army’s military intelligence. They reported “men of the 24th
Infantry . . . had said that if the Houston Mutineers were convicted by court martial, they
would wreck nearly Columbus, seize machine guns, and join Pancho Villa in Mexico.” In
fact, though, nothing came of the boasts, and calm settled across the town and its army post.
What happened in Columbus, New Mexico in the years immediately after the
Houston Riot is little known; however, it is an important part of the history of race relations
in America. Jim Crow laws did not exist in Columbus, but their legal sanction remained in
place across the country. For the first half of the twentieth century, communities such as
Columbus and federal entities such as the Army worked out how blacks and non-blacks
encountered each other.
In examining local experiences such as the Twenty-fourth’s in Columbus, we glimpse
a pivotal evolution in race relations—the journey toward equality. The legality of “separatebut-equal” facilities affirmed by the Supreme Court in its ruling Plessy v. Ferguson (1896)
occasioned a strong dissent from Justice John Marshall Harlan. He said segregation violated
equality under the law as provided for in the thirteenth and fourteenth amendments to the
Constitution. He famously asserted that, “Our constitution is color blind and neither knows
nor tolerates classes among citizens.” But nearly sixty years would pass before the Supreme
Court validated Justice Harlan’s views, and in the intervening decades many different
gradations existed within racial segregation. One such ‘refinement’ emerged in Columbus,
New Mexico.
Social scientists know that border regions can be fluid, serving as bicultural links
between different social groups. Was Columbus such a town from 1917 into the early 1920s?
The available data do not permit more than a rough sketch of its population, but incidents
and experiences do suggest it was a bicultural community.
Columbus tripled in size to about 2,500 residents between 1916 and 1920. But Camp
Furlong always had more occupants than the town: 1,419 soldiers (1,170 black) in 1917 and
4,109 (3,599 black) in 1920. The town’s racial composition included a tiny black civilian
population with Hispanics likely outnumbering Anglos, though they did not equal the latter’s
economic influence. For example, the town’s mayor was an Anglo as were many of its
businessmen.
Camp Furlong, as one scholar noted, “At its height . . . represented one of the single
largest black military communities ever to reside in the West.” The Army camp south of
town dominated the town’s economy and influenced every aspect of its life. Moreover, a
series of biracial events, most of a social nature, suggests a muted segregation existed in
Columbus.
In the first half of the twentieth century, black ministers increasingly emerged as
effective and respected spokespersons for their communities. The same role is seen in the
activity of the black pastor at Camp Furlong, Chaplain Alexander W. Thomas (African
Methodist Episcopal Church). While providing spiritual guidance for the Twenty-fourth, his
greatest contribution came in linking town and camp. He collaborated with community
leaders and white officers to ensure the Twenty-fourth actively supported projects as diverse
as Red Cross fundraising, War Bond sales, and national holiday celebrations.
Frequently everyone participated freely in such activities. As one scholar found,
Typically, holiday celebrations and special events included civilian and military,
black and white, members of the town. These celebrations usually featured a full
schedule of sporting activities, parades, and picnics. . . . The holiday celebration
for July 4, 1919, was planned by a biracial committee composed of civilians,
military personnel [including Chaplain Thomas], and representatives of several
welfare groups.
The Twenty-fourth’s highly regarded band always proved a popular draw at these and many
other events.
Segregation overlay race relations in Columbus. Both on and off base, separation of
blacks and whites went unchallenged. A measure of just how invisible blacks were to whites
is evident in the camp’s weekly newspaper, 12th Cavalry Standard. From its first issue on
February 23, 1918 to its fiftieth issue a year later, the Twenty-fourth is rarely mentioned,
despite extensive coverage given to social activities and community events. For many
months, no mention of the Twenty-found is found in the paper’s six to ten pages. Only in
May 1918 did the Twenty-fourth merit two short notices—once concerning religious
services (4th) and when the camp bands’ schedule appeared (18th).
But something else was going on at Camp Furlong and in Columbus that worked to
subvert the prevailing racism. Racial harmony slowly, tentatively appeared when blacks and
whites worked and relaxed together. Consider the summer of 1919: Blacks in Columbus
celebrated emancipation on Juneteenth (June 19th), and on Independence Day blacks and
whites united in festivities. That same summer, in twenty-five cities across America race riots
and bloodshed occurred. This spasm of civil unrest, known as the “Red Summer of 1919”
for its bloodiness, had its prelude in the Houston Riot of 1917. But in Columbus all was
quiet—a calm borne of reconciliation and not fear. A final measure of just how much
harmony had returned to the Twenty-fourth is seen in a sample of re-enlistments in 1920.
For the first two and final two months of the year, 48 blacks and 1 white reenlisted at Camp
Furlong, with most of the blacks drawing new duty in Panama or in the Philippines.
The federal presence in Columbus reveals a history of race relations in sharp contrast
to what prevailed in the segregated, Jim Crow-dominated South. It was still a history of
segregation, of course, since the Twenty-fourth was and remained for decades after black
enlistees led by white officers. But collaboration and intermingling existed to a large degree,
and in these incursions in each other’s experiences blacks and non-blacks slowly began to
negotiate mutual acceptance, a first step toward equality.
© 2008 by David V. Holtby
Bird’s Eye View of Columbus, NM, 1916. 000-742-0160, William A. Keleher
Collection, Center for Southwest Research, University Libraries, The University of New
Mexico.
Albuquerque Morning Journal. August 26, 1917.