Our Story (Not His Story)

Missouri currently has a total of four law schools. None of them are historically Black. This was not always the case. At 4310 St. Ferdinand Ave., where the James House apartments are currently located, stood the Lincoln University School of Law. The short-lived law school operated from 1939 to 1955 and was part of a much larger struggle to end educational inequality in Missouri and throughout the nation. For much of the twentieth century, African Americans were banned from attending Missouri’s predominantly white colleges. The University of Missouri law program, for instance, accepted its first Black student in 1960. Yet, HBCUs filled this void for Black students who sought a college education. Lincoln University, for example, still stands today, but first opened in 1866 by militant Black abolitionists and Civil War veterans. However, problems arose when HBCU students completed their undergraduate degrees and subsequently pursued graduate or professional degrees. Lincoln did not have any such advanced degree program. And white programs did not accept Black students. To avoid integration, but to still comply with the 1896 Plessy v. Ferguson “separate but equal” doctrine, Missouri instituted what historian Crystal Sanders called “segregation scholarships.” To avoid the integration of Missouri’s universities, state legislators allocated funds for Black students to attend collegiate programs, particularly graduate and professional schools, outside of the state. In 1921, Walthall Moore, Missouri’s first state representative, introduced a massive bill to the general assembly to address the inequities in the state’s dual system of higher education. The law would change Lincoln Institute’s name to Lincoln University, facilitating its transition to a full, four year institution. The bill also increased Lincoln’s funding with the aim to make the HBCU equal to the state’s flagship institution, the University of Missouri.  Yet, Moore recognized that any equalization of the institutions would take time. While Lincoln rebuilt itself, Black students would be allowed to take classes at Mizzou or attend colleges in neighboring states that had programs offered at Mizzou, but not Lincoln.  This was the first time in the nation’s history that a “segregation scholarship” was proposed. The “Show Me State” was by no means alone. Several states that practiced de jure segregation instituted similar programs. In total, sixteen southern and border states implemented their own version of “segregation scholarships.” However, Missouri was unique in its role in starting and ultimately ending this practice. Surprisingly, legislator’s Moore general assembly bill passed. However, no funds were ever allocated for it, effectively negating most of its programs.  Nonetheless, the idea of “segregation scholarships” survived and passed eight years later in 1929.   Consequently, Black students could theoretically nearby colleges that had better reputations than those within Missouri. However, there were several problems to the “segregation scholarships.” Adequate support was rarely provided, particularly when considering transportation, housing, or the higher cost of living in other states. Similar scholarship programs in other southern states often went underfunded and thus viable candidates were excluded when money ran out. Black participants also complained that networking, an essential component of the professional and graduate school experience, was compromised when they were disallowed from studying with their future colleagues within their states.  These reasons, as well as its underlying racism, urged the NAACP to challenge “segregation scholarships” in the 1930s. By this time, the NAACP had already developed a nation strategy to upend racially discriminatory education. After a comprehensive search, they chose Lloyd Gaines as their main plaintiff to end “segregation scholarships” for good. Gaines was born in Mississippi but moved to St. Louis as a teenager. After graduating from Vashon High School, he initially went to Stowe Teachers College, and subsequently graduated from Lincoln with honors. From there, he applied to the University of Missouri’s law program which denied him entry because of his race.  Although Gaines was eligible for a “segregation scholarship,” attending an out of state college was cost prohibitive. Therefore, he challenged the system.  Gaines’s case eventually went to the US Supreme Court which ruled that Missouri was required to have equal facilities “within its own jurisdiction,” effectively outlawing “segregation scholarships.” Though this could have led to Gaines attending Mizzou’s law school, he mysteriously disappeared shortly after the decision, and was never heard from again. The Supreme Court, however, did not compel the University of Missouri to desegregate, which allowed the state to establish a separate law program. Lincoln University School of Law opened in September 1939 with twenty-four students. It was housed in the former Poro Beauty College building which was owned by iconic businesswoman, Annie Malone.  The school quickly elicited the disdain of protestors who derisively labeled the institution a “Jim Crow Law School.” NAACP attorney and former Howard Law School Dean, Charles Hamilton Houston, noted that the school building was small, leased, and “subject to the will of the [Missouri] legislature.” Yet, Lincoln’s Law program also had its supporters. The college successfully recruited William Taylor, who previously replaced Houston at Howard Law, along with other former Howard professors.  Due in large part to Taylor and other Black professors, shortly after opening, the American Bar Association admitted Lincoln on probationary status among its accepted list of schools. A total of 79 graduates matriculated at the college. Its notable alumni include Dorothy Freeman who became Missouri’s first Black woman attorney. Scovel Richardson served as a federal judge and returned to become dean of Lincoln’s law school. Graduate Margaret Bush Wilson later became president of the St. Louis and Missouri NAACP branches and chair of the national NAACP Board of Directors.  Because the school was hastily set up, and with an allocation of only $200,000, the Lincoln University School of Law would eventually close in 1955, one year after the Brown v. Board decision. Another five years would pass before Mizzou’s law school accepted its first Black law student.  However, a similar climate that gave birth to Lincoln’s Law school unfortunately remains. In 2024, for instance, 371 students were enrolled in Mizzou’s law program. Twelve were Black.

June marks the beginning of Juneteenth festivities where we celebrate the victories and sacrifices made by our freedom fighters who have pushed us closer to liberation. Yet we know that the nearly 200,000 Black Civil War soldiers, who made up 10% of the Union army, represented just a tipping point of a much longer struggle to end chattel slavery. A through line connects these soldiers to the likes of Nat Turner, Denmark Vesey, and Gabriel Prosser, just to name a few. There were also numerous unknown women and men who exacted daily assaults on slavery, making the profitable institution dangerously volatile. An enslaved woman from Missouri, who merely went by the name of Celia, sits comfortably among this legion of freedom fighters. She did so by bucking all conventional (and legal) wisdom of the time, asserting Black women’s right to defend themselves.  Africans in Missouri were well represented among those who resisted chattel slavery. Perhaps the most well known combatants were Dred and Harriet Robinson Scott who sued for their freedom in the 1850s. They based their claim on the logic of the Missouri Compromise of 1820, which declared land north of the Mason-Dixon line as free territory. The enslaved couple spent considerable time in territories that were legally free. Thus the Scotts resisted the efforts of the Emerson and Sanford families, who held legal title to them, to keep them in bondage.  In a country that has historically privileged white supremacy and capitalism, the Scotts’ appeals to freedom were denied by the U.S. Supreme Court who further deemed that Black people were not citizens and “had no rights which the white man was bound to respect.” Few people had such an intimate experience with the violations and trampling of rights by white men than Black women. Black women provided not only physical labor but also the reproductive labor that gave U.S. slavery its distinctive character. They routinely faced sexual assault, and knew well before the Dred Scott case, that no American governmental institution would provide them with suitable recourse.  Thus, some had to take matters into their own hands, literally. Celia first appears in the historical record in 1850. In this year she was fourteen years old and purchased by Robert Newsom in Audrain County, which is about a two hour drive west from St. Louis.  What started as a business transaction for Newsom, quickly turned into what must have been perpetual trauma for Celia. She endured incessant sexual abuse by Newsom, starting on the first day. He, like many slaveholders, was a child rapist. At least one child was born from these forced violations. Still, during her time at the Newsom plantation, Celia developed a romantic relationship with a fellow enslaved man named George. It is reported that George grew increasingly uncomfortable with Celia and Newsom’s relationship, its coercive nature notwithstanding. By June 1855, Celia was pregnant again and asked Newsom to cease his unwanted visits to her cabin, at least while she carried the child to term. Yet he was unmoved. Celia even appealed to Newsom’s daughters who were either powerless or complicit. His coercion continued.  On June 23, 1855, Robert had come to Celia’s cabin as he had routinely done for multiple years. Cornered, and even more vulnerable now with child, Celia retreated to a section of the cabin where she hid a rather large stick. With her back to the wall, Celia smashed the blunt object across Robert’s head. According to court records, he slumped to the floor, disoriented, and was soon met with a second and fatal blow. After considering her next moves, Celia settled on burning Newsom’s body in the cabin’s fireplace.  The following morning, she reduced the remaining large bones to fragments by smashing them against hearth stones.  She even convinced Newsom’s unsuspecting grandson to collect and carry the ashes outside of her cabin for two dozen walnuts. Unknown to him, he sprinkled the remains of his grandfather on a path leading to the horse stables. A hastily assembled search party interrogated the enslaved community. It quickly zeroed in on Celia, resulting in a confession under duress. Her defense team employed a strategy asserting a woman’s right to defend herself. Yet, the defense was hamstrung by Judge William Augustus Hall who instructed the jury not to acquit Celia on the basis of self defense or sexual assault. It likely would not have mattered anyway. The jury consisted of all white men, four of whom were slave owners. Few were surprised when Celia was convicted and sentenced to death. Still, a glimmer of hope remained as Celia appealed to the Missouri Supreme Court. Yet, with the odds clearly not in her favor, she miraculously escaped the Callaway County Jail during the appeal process. However, she was summarily captured and returned. Her appeal was equally unsuccessful. Just as the Supreme Court would later deem African Americans as non-citizens, the Missouri Supreme Court ruled that Black women did not enjoy the same rights as white women. Their bodies, at least in the eyes of the law, were not their own. Celia was executed by hanging at the Fulton County Courthouse on December 21, 1855. However, during her incarceration, she gave birth a daughter and now has descendants who are currently living. Little remains of Celia’s interior life or her own words. She was not allowed to testify in court as Missouri did not permit enslaved Africans to speak in their own defense if their word contradicted that of a white person. She is also noted for confessing to the crime shortly after the discovery of Newsom’s body and before her execution. Yet, it is difficult for us or Celia to trust the interpretation of whites who constructed a society that saw Black people as non-persons.  Even the northern based New York Times reflected the sympathies of slaveholders, deeming the case “one of the most horrible tragedies ever enacted in our country.” However, they would not have the last word. In 2024, Missouri overturned her verdict and she was given an official pardon by Governor Mike Parson. Celia would also inspire later freedom fighters. One such example is Margaret Bush Wilson who served as president of the St. Louis and Missouri NAACP branches during the height of the Civil Rights Movement. She would later become the first woman to chair the national NAACP Board of Directors. While a law student at Lincoln University’s short lived law school, she came across Celia’s case and was instantly spellbound. Wilson remembered saying to herself, “ ‘Nothing that happens to me can compare with what this teen-aged girl endured.’ That was the moment when she became my heroine and she will continue to be to the end of my days.”