Back in 1976, when Brian Mitchell was eight years old, a teacher in his Louisiana school system asked if anyone in the class was related to a famous figure from the state’s history. Mitchell, who had spent his childhood listening to family stories, said he was related to the legendary Oscar James Dunn. But according to Mitchell, his teacher had no idea who that was. “He’s the first black Lieutenant Governor, not just for Louisiana, but for the entire nation,” Mitchell remembers saying. “There’s never been a black lieutenant governor of Louisiana,” his teacher replied.
But there was, and he was Mitchell’s great great great-uncle. “As I child, I’d spend my days after school with my great-grandmother,” Mitchell recalls. And her family stories “always sort of lead to important patriarchs or matriarchs,” including Dunn. Now Mitchell is an assistant professor of history at the University of Arkansas at Little Rock, and he’s spent much of his career studying Dunn so future teachers don’t make the same mistake his did some four decades ago.
As New Orleans has been in the national spotlight over the removal of four city monuments—all erected after the end of Reconstruction, years after the Civil War, to reassert white power—Mitchell is bringing attention to a monument of is ancestor that was intended to be built. It was supposed to honor Reconstruction’s success, and it featured a prominent black politician named Oscar James Dunn, who during his relatively short life wrestled with white politicians over civil rights.
Dunn was supposed to be a hero: Around the time he suffered an untimely and mysterious death, a journalist wrote, “There will be three pictures that hang in the home of every African-American … Abraham Lincoln, Frederick Douglass, and Oscar James Dunn.” Thanks to some historical amnesia, and a smear campaign against Dunn, that didn’t end up being true.
Dunn was born in New Orleans around 1822 to an enslaved mother. She fell in love with a free man of color named James who bought her and her two children for $800 in 1831. By the time Oscar James Dunn turned 11, he was free: “That changes Dunn’s life forever,” Mitchell says. Now the young Dunn could go to school—and he was good at school. He learned a trade (plastering) and he was excellent at that, too. Dunn grew up to become the head of the black Masonic Lodges in Louisiana, a powerful civic force working on education and youth initiatives for free blacks in the state. Then the Civil War ended, and the Reconstruction era began.
Around this time, “African-Americans are all over the South,” Mitchell says. “They’re released and people need their labor for agriculture.” Dunn opened an office to cater to their needs, and used his education to write contracts for recently released enslaved people, so they could work on plantations without being cheated.
Dunn made sure these newly free people actually got paid for their labor, and he was quite good at that, too—which inspired those close to him to suggest he might make a good politician. Around that time, people of color freed prior to the Emancipation Proclamation (like Dunn) were beginning to enter politics. Dunn ran for office: he was elected to be Louisiana’s Lieutenant governor in 1868.
“Basically, they’re like, he is so fair-minded and scrupulous that it’s annoying,” Weldon says.
“Hostile” is one way to put it. The Louisiana governor at the time was a man named Henry Warmoth, a white, 20-something Republican from New York. Three years after the Civil War ended, in 1868, he and Dunn were elected on the same ticket. Dunn was two decades older than Governor Warmoth, and at first Dunn believed, perhaps naively, that this young Yankee wanted equality between white Louisianans and their black counterparts. But then Governor Warmoth betrayed Lieutenant Governor Dunn.
“When it actually came time for him to sign a bill that would protect blacks,” Brian Mitchell says, “he says no.” The governor vetoed a bill that would have penalized bus and business owners who did not provide equal services to both races.
When Governor Warmoth refused to sign this civil rights bill, it divided the Republican party. Despite the fact that that both Dunn and Warmoth were members of the same party, they found themselves in direct competition over the most explosive issues of the time. There was a Dunn camp and a Warmoth camp at the time; they had separate police forces, seperate conventions.
“It was complete chaos,” Weldon says. “There was no order.”
Warmoth began to lose power. The Democrats, once Souther Confederates, didn’t accept Governor Warmoth because they saw him as a “carpetbagger,” a foreign leader with little local interest. The Radical Republicans, and in particular the black members of the party, realized quickly that Governor Warmoth was working against their interests. By 1872 another gubernatorial election was on the horizon, and there was talk amongst these factions of impeaching Warmoth.