Danver Steven L. (Edited). Revolts, Protests, Demonstrations, and Rebellions in American History: An Encyclopedia (ENG)

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monetary payment for past governments’ unlawful acts. Professor Alfred Brophy presses

one form of that argument; there doubtless are others.

This is not that legal argument but another one altogether. This is a moral argument.

It holds that there are moral responsibilities here and that those moral responsibilities

require moral responses now.

It gets down to this: The 1921 riot is, at once, a representative historical example and

a unique historical event. It has many parallels in the pattern of past events, but it has no

equal for its violence and its compl eteness. It symbolizes so much endured by so many

for so long. It does it, However, in one way that no other can: in the living ﬂesh and blood

of some who did endure it.

These paradoxes hold answers to questions often asked: Why does the state of Okla-

homa or the city of Tulsa owe anything to anybody? Why should any individual tolerate

now spending one cent of one tax dollar over what ha ppened so long ago? The answer

is that these are not even the questions. This is not about individuals at all—not any more

than the race riot or anything like it was about individuals.

This is about Oklahoma—or, rather, it is about two Oklahomas. It must be about that

because that is what the Tulsa race riot was all about, too. That r iot proclaimed that

there were two Oklahomas; that one claimed the right to push down, push out, and push

under the other; and that it had the power to do that.

That is what the Tulsa race riot has been all about for so long afterwards, why it has

lingered not as a past event b ut lived as a present entity. It kept on saying that there

remained two Okl ahom as; t hat o ne cla imed t he rig ht to b e dis mis sive o f, i gnora nt of,

and oblivious to the other; and that it had the power to do that.

That is why the Tulsa race riot can be about something else. It can be about making two

Oklahomas one—but only if we understand that this is what reparation is all about. Because

the riot is both symbolic and singular, reparations become both singular and symbolic, too.

Compelled not legally by courts but extended freely by choice, they say that individual

acts of reparation will stand as symbols that fully acknowledge and ﬁnally discharge a col-

lective responsibility.

Because we must face it: There is no way but by government to represent the collec-

tive, and there is no way but by reparations to make real the responsibility.

Does this commission have speciﬁc recommendations about whether or not repara-

tions can or should be made and the appropriate methods? Yes, it surely does.

When commissioners went looking to do the right thing, that is what nearly all of

them found and what they recommended in last year’s pre liminary report. To be sure

they had found the right thing , they have used this formal report to explore once more

the distant terrain of the Tulsa race riot and the forbidding territory in which it l ies.

Now, they are certain. Reparations are the right thing to do.

What else is there to do? What else is there to ﬁnd?

Source: Final Report of the Oklahoma Commission to Study the Tulsa Race Riot of 1921, http://

www.ok-history.mus.ok.us/trrc/freport.htm (accessed July 18, 2010).

828 Tulsa Race Riot (1921)

Bonus Army (1932)

As hundreds of Washington, D.C., ofﬁce workers gawked, General Douglas

MacArthur ordered Major George Patton to advance on the enemy. Patton’s force

included infantry with bayonets ﬁxed, cavalry with drawn sabers, and six whippet

tanks (seven-ton Renault tanks, vintage World War I). As the force moved out on

the afternoon of July 28, 1932, a machine gun unit set up its gun. The foe was

the Bonus Expeditionary Force, a group of middle-aged men, World War I veter-

ans, in ra gged and faded uni forms, standing in their Hooverville, a shanty town

of tents and jerry-built, jerry-rigged structures.

They stood in the streets, not believing that this army was moving on them.

When they woke from their shock, some cursed and tossed bricks and bottles in

the direction of the soldiers. Joined by D.C. police, the 600-man army advanced

inexorably. Some camp inmates broke and ran while others stood their ground,

preparingtodefendwithclubsandironbars. Then the infantry halted, put on

gas masks, and tossed gas grenades. As the advance resumed, the unarmed veter-

ans ﬂed. Spotty resistance persisted, and Patton’s men used the ﬂat of their sword

to dissuade the resisters. As cavalry chased the ragtag veterans, MacArthur rode up

and down in his staff car, glorying in the destruction, in the discipline of his force

that cleared the downtown area without ﬁring a shot. Then his men set the camp

aﬁre, destroying what little the veterans possessed.

The Great War took 3.5 million Americans from jobs that paid up to 10 times

what they earned in th e military. Over 116,000 died, and another 204,000 wer e

wounded. The AEF veterans had insurance coverage, so there was no expectation

that there would be any demand for additional compensation, particularly by

those who had served without injury. For the returning disabled, t here was a

job-training program, but there was nothing for those suffering from shell shock

or those who merely needed help readjusting. However, in the prosperous 1920s,

surprises happened.

Veterans wanted compensation for the wages lost while serving in the military.

But racism, among other factors, defeated the bonus—many of t he half million

blacks who served demanded jobs in industries where they were barred before

the war. White soldiers and sailors were among those who fought blacks, and

had lynched some. In 1920, the U.S. Chamber of Commerce objected to the bonus

829

because it feared the bonus would reward half a million southern blacks with $500

or $600 each and cause them to stop working until they had spent it all.

In 1924, Congress passed, over veto by President Calvin Coolidge, a law that

provided for compensation based on length of service, with extra pay for overseas

service. In 1924, the economy was roaring and good jobs were abundant. Veterans

willingly accepted the offer of a $1,000 bonus in 1945 instead of a present-year

$400 based on $1 a day for stateside service, $1.25 for a day overseas.

In 1929, the stock market collapsed, and the economy followed. By 1932, the

Great Depression was at its worst, and many of the veterans had been unemployed

for months if not years. Those who had something in 1924 had nothing in 1932 but

the promise of a payment in 1945, the “Tombstone Bonus.” Both members of

Congress and the public, particularly veterans, referred to early redemption at face

value as a bonus. Veterans began organizing to push Congress to pay the bonus.

Bonus opponents wanted to spend scarce money elsewhere in a depression that

they were struggling to climb out of, and the money was not there.

Veterans whose service entitled them to $50 or less, received cash. Those enti-

tled to more than $50 received a bond that matured in 1945. Veterans whose rank

was major or below with 60 days of service or more got $1 for each stateside day

up to $500 and $1.25 f or each overseas day up to $625. With compound interest

over 21 y ears, the average bond payout in 1945 would be approximately $1,000.

Initially, the veteran could borrow up to 22.5 percent of the face value, but

Congress raised that to 50 percent in 1931 as a result of the Depression. By

April 1932, outstanding loans totaled $1.248 billion on certiﬁcates with face val-

ues totaling $3.638 billion. The half-bonus loans authorized in 1931 over Hoover’s

veto were insufﬁcient during the worst times of the Great Depression. Bonuses

averaged around $1,000, and immediate payment would mean $500 or so per vet-

eran. Thus, Wright Patman (D-TX) introduced legislation to pay the balance

immediately. The cost of the bonus was $2.39 billion.

The administration was ﬁrm that the bonus would fuel inﬂation and break a

federal budget already $2 billion in deﬁcit. The government did not have t he

money, anyway. Congress established a trust fund for a 1945 payout. The plan

was that each year for 20 years the trust fund received $112 million. That produced

a 20-year total of $2.24 billion, enough with interest added to cover the burden. In

1932, it was far short, having rec eived eight annual installments or $896 million.

With interest, the fund held $991 million, less than half the 3.66 million outstand-

ing certiﬁcates with a face value of $3.638 billion.

The idea for the march came from Walter Waters of Portland, Oregon. Waters was

without a job for 18 months before organizing the Bonus Expeditionary Force (BEF).

The 34-year-old former sergeant’s movement began slowly but grew rapidly as the

national press began publicizing it. The ﬁrst marchers arrived in Washington, D.C.,

830 Bonus Army (1932)

in May 1932 and moved into parks and conde mned buildings betwe en the

White House and the Capitol on Pennsylvania Avenue. Once that area became

overcrowded, they built the Anacostia Flats shantytown southeast of the Capitol.

There they waited, their hardships eased somewhat by D.C.’s war-veteran super-

intendent of police, Pelham Glassford, who helped to arrange private medical

and other aid. Organizers hoped for a million-man attendance but only 20,000

or so could come up with the bus or train fare, arrange the horse or mule drawn

transport, or ride the rails.

MacArthur’s enemy was those 20,000 veterans. The army consisted of black

and white; foreign and native; white collar, blue collar, and no collar at all—truck

drivers, coal miners, day labor of every American creed. Mostly they were white

middle-aged men. Some brought their families. Many came to get away from their

families’ despair—crying, hungry babies, rejection for job after job, the degrading

handout from a censorious woman. The BEF camped in and around Washington,

D.C., in the late spring and summer of 1932 while the Congress debated Patman’s

latest bill.

The ﬁrst thing that Waters did as commander in chief of the BEF was to estab-

lish a military structure for the camps. The men organized into companies and reg-

iments with a set chain of command. They had commissaries, roll call, and

inspections. The army style kept the BEF focused on a single mission, enactment

of the bonus. The discipline contrasted sharply with the New Era individualism.

Waters banned begging, drinking, and radical agitation. His goal was to have the

BEF stay where it was until Congress passed the bonus bill.

Glassford moved the men into four empty buildings due for demolition in Octo-

ber to make way for new construction. The BEF overﬂowed the buildings and

camped in the Mall and in two dozen other locations. Shelters were made of crates,

tar paper, and tin cans, and whenever possible, ﬂew an American ﬂag.

Glassford established a commissary and got donations from bakers, meat mer-

chants, and so on. Medical and dental services were available at a 50-bed hospital.

Policing was by a 300-man BEF force that also had the duty of keeping the 200 or

so communists at bay. Still, despite the best efforts of Waters and Glassford, to

outside observers, the BEF encampments looked like overgrown hobo jungles.

Among the notable features of camp life were the Oliver twins. The seven-year-

old boys boxed each other in the BEF boxing marathon and otherwise for nickels.

Also, the Salvation Army established an outdoor library from tents in the mud.

Evalyn McLean, owner of the Hope Diamond, was so upset by the hunger she

saw that she stopped in a “greasy spoon” and ordered a thousand sandwiches and

a thousand packs of cigarettes. Somehow, her order was completed. The BEF

encampments were a must-see for tourists in Washington that summer, particu-

larly the integrated living arrangements.

Bonus Army (1932) 831

The vigil at the Capitol occupied 12,000 BEF members for weeks. In June, the

House passed Patman’s bill, but the Senate defeated it, 62–18, and prep ared to

adjourn. With worried onlookers fearing a riot or revolution, the BEF sang

“America the Beautiful,” formed ranks, and marched back to their camps.

Glassford’s goal was to have the BEF lose interest and leave, and many did;

Hoover authorized $100,000 for tickets home but also provided that the ticket

price would be deducted from the bonus wh en ﬁnally it was paid. About 6, 000

BEF took the money—but many of them stayed anyway.

A fourth of the veterans accepted g overnment trans portation home. Hoover

tried to turn his attention to more pressing matters, the economic crisis and the

November election. But a core of veterans, feeling sold out and having nowhere

else to go, decided to stay. Waters declared that he and the BEF wou ld stay unt il

1945 if necessary. He led daily demonstrations and marches in front of the

Congress and White House.

Through t he summer, BEF frustrations grew and their mood so ured . By July,

Waters was claiming that 80,000 veterans had come to the capital. The police said

22,000. L ocals provided them with coffee and sandwiches, even invited so me of

the women and children into their homes for the duration. But city commissioners

were worried about riots and wanted the marchers out. They ordered Glassford to

evict them on the pretense that they were preparing to demolish the buildings.

Glassford had one building emptied without incident but declined to press the

others. The commissioners told Hoover that Glassford had lost control, and Hoover

sent in MacArthur.

At this juncture, John Pace of Illinois brought in a contingent of communists to

fome nt a riot, and the Washington powers, a lready oversensi tive to communism,

reacted with alarm. Hoover had reason to worry about communists. The commu-

nists led a hunger march on Washington in December 1931. Just weeks l ater in

Pittsburgh, 12,000 jobless men marched behind a priest for unemployment legisla-

tion. A riot at Henry Ford’s River Rouge plant in March 1932 e nded with four

dead, over 50 wounded. The anticommunist mood was furthered by J. Edgar

Hoover, already head of th e FBI. H e spread rumors about radical plots to blow

up the W hite House. MacArthur h ad h is own set of fears about the twin cancers

of paciﬁsm and communism. Others in government and the press referred to the

needy veterans as the criminal fringe or beings of inferior blood. Some blamed

demagogues and eas ily manipulated servile types. At least one congressman told

veterans asking help to “go to Hell.”

The climate was already tense when on July 28, Secretary of War Patrick Hurley

ordered Glassford to empty the buildings of veterans so demolition could proceed.

The veterans balked, and in the ensuing melee, Glassford and his assistant were

injured, police opened ﬁre, and two veterans died. Local government ofﬁcials

832 Bonus Army (1932)

labeled the incident a serious riot and called on Hoover to bring in troops from Fort

Myer. President Hoover sent in MacArthur to surround and clear the area, taking

care not to harm women and children. MacArthur, reportedly against the advice of

his aide, Major Dwight Eisenhower, entered the ﬁeld at the head of his troops rather

than staying back as an administrator should. After dispersing the BEF, MacArthur

crossed the river and burned the shantytown at Anacostia. MacArthur was deter-

mined to rid the city of “communists,” and he disregarded two orders from Hoover,

who now had second thoughts about the decision to rout the demonstrators, not to

cross the river.

When the battle ended, MacArthur held a press conference to state his case that

the episode had been a communist-fomented riot and that he had acted to protect

the president and the government. He also shunted responsibility onto the civilian

ofﬁcials, including the p reside nt. Having no alternative now that Anacostia Flats

was aﬂame, Hoover backed MacArthur and labeled the BEF as radical.

The total loss was two dead, 54 injured, and 135 arrested. The media and other

critics rejected the administration’s explanation, and the mishandling of the BEF

became an issue in the fall elections. Public opinion turned away from the ofﬁcial

version, toward the critics’ position, and in the fall, the Republican president lost

to the Democ rat, Franklin Roosevelt. Liberals would have a propaganda tool for

decades to come. After the battle, some of the veterans headed for Johnstown,

Pennsylvania, where they had heard they would be welcome.

After burial of the two dead in Arlington National Cemetery, the BEF remnants

mostly drifted off. Some came back the next year and the year after, but the new

president, Franklin Roosevelt, was no more inclined than Hoover to pay the

bonus. He opposed special treatment f or veterans, but, unlike Hoover who

spurned the veterans, Roosevelt sent his wife to speak with the BEF in 1933.

The Civilian Conservation Corps did take some of the anguish from unemployed

veterans, and eventually in 1936, Congress overrode Roosevelt’s veto to pass a

bonus.

After the fact, a study of the Veterans Administration revealed that the BEF was

94 percent veter ans, either army or navy. Hoover and MacArthur r emained con-

vinced through their lives that they had faced not a ragtag band of homeless, job-

less veterans in need but an organized band of communist revolutionaries bent

on overthrowing the U.S. government. MacArthur would over ti me attempt to

downplay his role, to exaggerate his sympathy for the BEF.

When next an American army came marchi ng h ome millions strong, the U.S.

government and the people were determined that there would be no repeat of the

war on the Bonus Army. The next generation of veterans came home to the gener-

ous GI Bill, a law that enabled many to attend elite universities, many more to

attend lesser colleges and trade schools, millions to buy homes in the suburbs,

Bonus Army (1932) 833

and millions to enter the middle class. That generation of veterans began their

bonus march to middle-class status, ironically, in 1945.

—John H. Barnhill

See also all entries under Molly Maguires (1870s); Great Railroad Strikes (1877);

Haymarket Riot (1886); Seattle Riot (1886); Homestead Strike (1892–1893); Pullman

Strike (1894); Lattimer Massacre (1897); Black Patch War (1909); Ludlow Massacre

(1914); Boston Police Strike (1919); B attle of Blair Mountain (1921); Toledo

Auto-Lite Strike (1934); West Coast Longshoremen’s Strike; World Trade Organization

Protests (1999).