After a black man was accused of assaulting a white woman, a mob in Redan wrestled him from the custody of deputies and hanged him from a tree.
Years later there was another alleged attack, this time involving the white postmaster’s daughter. Quarry workers chased two “black brutes” into the Lithonia woods, but the details of their deaths and their names were lost to history.
In another case, a black jitney cab driver stopped to pick up a fare not knowing that ride would end with the Ku Klux Klan leaving him to die in Druid Hills.
These three accounts are the known lynchings in DeKalb County, hidden in history and receiving little attention for many decades.
The names and dates of these incidents were made public as part of a new memorial in Montgomery dedicated to highlighting the impact of racial terror in America. DeKalb is bringing that effort home through a series of events dedicated to acknowledging that history but also to atoning for it.
The details of these incidents are receiving new attention today as a result of those efforts and additional reporting by The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. The result has revealed to a family of one of the men, and to the organizers of these remembrance events, horrific details forgotten until now.
DeKalb County and some of its cities have joined a national movement to confront America’s history of racism in a more honest and complete manner. That effort began after 2015’s deadly church shooting in Charleston, S.C., prompted new attention to monuments that promote ideals of white supremacy.
Here, conversations about racial injustice increased after a woman was killed during a protest over Confederate monuments in Charlottesville, Va. In Decatur, DeKalb’s county seat, a 30-foot tall monument towers over the town square. It is dedicated to Confederate soldiers “of a covenant keeping race.”
County and city leaders have tried to move the monument from such a visible location, but state law limits their options. Now, they are focused on putting that structure into context within a much wider discussion about racism and the effects it has had on DeKalb, a community where more than half of its 756,000 residents are African-American.
A sign that identifies the Confederate monument as an attempt to honor “white supremacy and faulty history” is in the works. The county is also in the process of adding a new element just steps away: a second marker that would highlight the impact of lynchings and other acts of racial terrorism.
DeKalb is believed to be just the second government entity in Georgia to acknowledge the lynchings that occurred within its borders.
The first was the city of LaGrange, where the white police chief in 2017 apologized for the role his department played in a 1940 death of a black teenager and a marker was placed at a church that led anti-lynching protests. That attracted worldwide attention.
DeKalb could be the first government entity in Georgia to erect a lynching marker on publicly-owned land. The county commission has already approved a resolution authorizing the marker and its placement on the grounds of the county courthouse.
The DeKalb branch of the NAACP is in the process of raising money for the effort. The marker will be donated by the Montgomery, Ala.-based Equal Justice Initiative, but money is still needed to fund its installation and to host the public events that will surround its unveiling.
It is called The Remembrance Project.
“You have to tell the whole story,” said Dee Smith, a member of the NAACP who is leading this effort. “The story of the Confederacy has been told loud and strong, sometimes inaccurately. Nowhere in this county is there anything telling about the other side. We want this to be a start.”
The plans include an interfaith worship service in September, soil collection from the lynching sites to display here and send back to Montgomery, an art exhibit and contests for high school and college students. Organizers’ plan to place the markers at one of the busiest places in the county — the courthouse — is a symbol that there is no hiding from the past.
In addition to helping the county reckon with its past, the markers could also provide healing for the loved ones of those affected by these killings. But first, that history must be examined.
‘They say he was lynched’
The historical marker is just one step. Later, the county has plans to retrieve a version of the lynching monument that rests among 800 others at the Equal Justice Initiative’s Memorial for Peace and Justice in Montgomery. This solemn destination, commonly referred to as the “lynching memorial,” has attracted tens of thousands of visitors despite opening to the public just 14 months ago.
The memorial sits on the top of a hill on the edge of downtown and consists of 800 steel pillars. Each county in Georgia where a documented lynching of a black person occurred has a monument where the names and dates of deaths of black lynching victims are listed.
Fulton County’s 35 reported lynchings take up the entire face of its monument. Cobb, Douglas and Henry counties each have one known lynching. Gwinnett and Clayton both have three.
So does DeKalb.
The county’s monument lists the names of Reuben Hudson, who was killed in Redan in 1887, and Porter Turner, the man the KKK murdered in 1945. The victims of the mysterious Lithonia attack in 1892 are marked “unknown.”
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution spent months researching DeKalb’s lynching stories, visiting various archives and searching through old newspaper clippings and books.
Porter Turner’s family didn’t know all of the details about his death, and they had no clue he was a part of the lynching memorial they had already heard so much about.
A couple of weeks before the AJC contacted him, 87-year-old Calvin Turner was watching a television interview featuring the Equal Justice Initiative’s founding director Bryan Stevenson. Turner turned to his daughter Celeste and shared a piece of the family history she had never heard.
“I have an uncle that they say was lynched,” he said.
What was his name? Porter Turner.
Celeste Turner made a mental note to Google the name to see if she could add details to an online family history she created years ago. But the busy teacher had not yet found the time when the AJC called.
During these interviews, family members asked to see a reporter’s pictures from the lynching memorial. It was their first time seeing Porter Turner’s name and date of death, which is carved into the six-foot-long piece of steel.
Celeste Turner began to cry for the grand-uncle she had never met, but said she also felt pride knowing that people are working to ensure his death is never forgotten.
“It’s sad, of course, what happened,” she said. “But to know the history is so important, too. And to hear the county is honoring what happened is important, too.”
The first victim
Reuben Hudson is the first known victim of a lynching in DeKalb. His death in 1887 was reported in such vivid detail that it’s almost certain the local newspaper reporter was part of the mob that witnessed his hanging.
Hudson stood accused of breaking into a home and assaulting a young, white housewife. Married himself, he tried to escape the mob by jumping on a Georgia Railroad train back home to Covington. But deputies tracked him down and forced him back to the scene of the crime.
By the time he returned, he was circled by a lynch mob who was ready to punish the “black fiend” for his accused crime.
“Here he comes, kill him!” they shouted.
There would be no trial. And there was little consideration that Hudson may be innocent, as he insisted until his last breath. The crowd grew in size and in anger.
The Atlanta Constitution not only reported his death but illustrated the scene in Redan. There is a drawing of Hudson hanging from a tree. He is blindfolded, his hands are tied behind his back and his head is bowed.
Racially motivated lynchings combine two layers of violence, said University of Georgia Prof. E.M. “Woody” Beck, an expert on the topic. During the late 1800s and early 1900s, mob violence for myriad reasons was culturally acceptable across the United States, especially in the South.
“Now let’s superimpose that with Jim Crow segregation and the need for whites to suppress blacks and control their behavior,” Beck said.
Hudson’s death fits that description. So does the lynching at the Lithonia rock quarry, which occurred after some girls gathering flowers reported that their young friend had been accosted by black men.
The articles don’t indicate that any of the girls were seriously harmed or whether the men who were chased down had indeed been responsible for the assault. Still, newspapers from coast to coast carried the wire report as another example of white men taking justice into their own hands.
When the workers who pursued the black men returned, all they would say is that their targets were “lost.” “What this means is generally understood,” an article in The Morning Post of Camden, N.J., reported.
Even after the Civil Rights Movement brought an end to Jim Crow, American’s towns and cities never circled back around to examine the atrocities of the previous era. Few people were held accountable, and there is no evidence any of the people responsible for DeKalb’s three known lynchings faced any punishment.
There were prominent people in the mob that killed Hudson, including a local doctor who led the charge to lynch him and the law enforcement officers who did nothing to prevent it.
Newell Brown was the postmaster’s daughter and the catalyst for the Lithonia lynching in 1892, even if “a necktie party” wasn’t her and her friends’ intent. They said they were gathering wildflowers near the Southern Granite quarry when men approached them and carried Newell off into the swamp where she was attacked.
Some historical accounts say as many as five black men may have been killed by a white mob as a result.
Honoring the victims
Since the National Memorial for Peace and Justice opened in April 2018, it has become a popular destination for people wanting an honest depiction of how racism during Jim Crow caused thousands of deaths.
As visitors walk through the memorial, the floor begins to slope downward. Eventually they are standing below hanging monuments.
“As you’re walking down the incline, it’s almost as if someone is being lynching right in front of you,” said Charles Anderson, a community development volunteer in Lithonia who took his grandkids to visit the memorial.
Members of the DeKalb Chapter of the NAACP traveled to Montgomery in late July. They walked among the pillars, winding through the states and counties until they found the one for DeKalb dangling above their heads.
But there is a second pillar — a duplicate — waiting in the fields nearby. Part of EJI’s vision is for each county or state where lynchings occurred to bring its duplicate monument home to create local memorials.
Members of the NAACP left behind an arrangement of yellow silk flowers on the top of the replica marker for DeKalb, which sits on a corner of the property overlooking a historical church. They returned and began planning to get it home.
With the county commission’s blessing, Smith and members of the NAACP put together the committee that meets each month to plan out the Remembrance Project. Other participants are church leaders, representatives from local colleges and universities, and Lithonia city officials.
At one recent meeting, Smith, who serves as the chairwoman, passed out copies of newspaper articles she found about the lynchings and her colleagues gasped and frowned at the way newspapers covered the killings.
“We want to honor these victims, and we want to bring this memorial home and erect the markers,” she said during one meeting as everyone nodded their heads in agreement. “These people were denied justice while they were alive. We’ll get them as close to justice as we can.”
Support real journalism. Support local journalism. Subscribe to The Atlanta Journal-Constitution today. See offers.
Your subscription to the Atlanta Journal-Constitution funds in-depth reporting and investigations that keep you informed. Thank you for supporting real journalism.