This review needs some prefacing. I
am not a modern historian, and much less a U.S. historian. Still, this book
should, in my opinion, be read by specialists and non-specialists simply on the
quality of the writing. This books proved to me that novelizing history need
not happen at the expense either of historical accuracy or proper
argumentation.
Responding to
judgments pronounced against Clarence Norris’ family in the 1980’s, Reverend
Butts asked whether or not one “can judge the behavior of a man who has lived
through living hell” (p.390). James Goodman’s The Stories of Scottsboro is the narrative of that living hell,
which nine young African-Americans endured from 1931 to 1938. James Goodman
engages his readers to follow the trials of these young men as they seek to
avoid the death penalty for a rape that they did not commit. James Goodman
forces his reader into a world where mentalities were exacerbated by the
social, economic, and political constraints of the time.
Goodman’s
work is divided in four general sections 1931-1932, 1933, 1934-1941 and
1937-1989, which progress for the most part chronologically even within each
individual section. Goodman departs from straight chronological narrative only
intermittently, either to recount contemporaneous events in a different place
or to introduce biographical data for a new protagonist that enters the scene.
For instance, Chalmers hears of the guilty verdicts of the 1937 trials roughly
at the same time as Leibowicz, but the reaction is described after the SDC’s
address in New York.
Goodman’s
narrative technique is evidence of a craftsman. In the very complex web that he
spun, one in which secondary characters enter the plotline and either leave it,
one in which political currents interact, the reader never loses track of the
sequence of events. Details are introduced whenever they are necessary. This is
especially true of biographical data. The case of Judge Horton, who tried the
boys until he was replaced by Callahan in 1934, is one particularly telling
example of Goodman’s ability to interject important information. Goodman
initially introduces Judge Horton in the context of the first trials, and
especially of the pervading prejudice of the south. Goodman, describing
Leibowicz’ reaction to bigotry, states that “it never occurred to him [that
prejudice] could have knocked, introduced itself, and then walked right in the
front door [of the courtroom]” (p.120). It is not until Horton’s opinion’s
piece of June 22, 1933 that the reader is made aware of his background. While Horton is a southern gentleman with
strong ties to the confederacy, he was an active proponent of fairness in the
context of the law, as well as staunch opponent of lynching and popular justice
(p.175). Goodman is preparing the reader for one major plot twist: Horton
dismantled the testimony of Mrs. Price, the major piece of evidence for the
prosecution, thereby ordering a new trial (pp.173-182).
In
addition, the narrative technique of Goodman allows him to reconstruct the
arguments at the trials chronologically, but nevertheless allowing the reader
to understand fully both arguments in their entireties. For instance, the cross
examination of Victoria Price, in chapter 19, is presented as it would have
been during the trials. First, as a witness to the prosecution, she is
interviewed by Knight. The crux of Knight’s argument is clear in Goodman’s
exposition; Knight was relying on Price’s standing with the court: Price simply
identified Patterson as her rapist, and Knight held up a pair of torn panties,
which Price acknowledged she was wearing on the day of the rape. Goodman need
not detail the arguments of the prosecution further. He has already described
Price’s status as a virtuous southern lady in chapter 3. That the arguments
have not fundamentally changed is also highlighted by the detailing of
Leibowicz’ argument. Leibowicz is attacking the fallibility of Price. The use
of Carter and Bates are the major pieces of his argument simply because both
propose an alternative version of the events. Thus, the defense’s goal is
simply to plant the seed of doubt in the minds of the jurors with respect to
Price’s testimony. Then, even if the chapter follows the interrogations
chronologically, it allows the reader to understand the development of both
arguments and reach the only possible conclusion, that Price was a liar, and
that the guilty verdict was the result of bigotry.
Therein
lays one of the major problems of narrative history. Because Goodman is
presenting the data in a nearly complete chronological manner, the author must
make his position known, not in the juxtaposition of data, but in what he
chooses to present and what he chooses to omit. In the aforementioned chapter,
the absence of the prosecution’s full interrogation leads to only one possible
outcome, namely, that Patterson was convicted on a racial basis, as opposed to
legal arguments. One can wonder whether Leibowicz’ surprise at the guilty
verdict (p.147) is not also Goodman’s, and the reader’s for that matter.
Goodman’s
exposition is not problematic only in chapters 19 and 20. For instance, in
chapter 33, the discussion of the decision of the Supreme Court in the Norris vs. Alabama case clearly focuses
on the limitations of the act, rather than the success at the order of the
retrial (chapter 33). Goodman achieves this effect by juxtaposing the decision
with other Supreme Court decisions: for Goodman, the Norris vs. Alabama decision was part of a trend in the involvement
of the Federal Government in segregation laws (p.253). While the impact of the
decision was not immediately felt, when Knight visits Leibowicz in New York, he
mentions that the length of the trial had depleted Alabama financially and
politically (p.290). Then, the decision for retrial, while legally not as far
reaching as Cooper vs. Aaron, for
example, the decision had direct relevance for the Scottsboro Boys’ eventual
release in 1938.
Goodman
does not shy away from this criticism. In the preface, he states that “Stories of Scottsboro is my story of
Scottsboro […]. I have tried to convey my sense of the essential facts of the
case” (p.xiii). At the heart of the case, for Goodman, is the racist (though he
does not use that word) that “black men are rapists” (p.xiii). In light of the
sensitivity of the subject, the question remains as to whether or not one can
write a history of segregation, presenting, as objectively as possible, all
aspects of the discourse. At a more
fundamental level, Goodman’s book begs questions related to contemporary
history as a whole. Is “the historian’s version of a story” the only version
possible when it comes to contemporary history? This is precisely the question
that Reverend Butts asked: “how can [one] judge the behavior of a man who has
lived through living hell?” (p.390).
This
perspective should not detract the reader from the outstanding achievement of
Goodman, namely, to write a history of a highly sensitive subject in manner
that, if it lacks objectivity, conveys a certain view of the Scottsboro trials.
Goodman is able, from southern sources, to extrapolate a view of the white south
that, if bigoted, had many divisions. Doing so, Goodman is fair to the variety
of opinions: Horton, though somewhat prejudiced, was loyal to his station;
Knight, however virulent and anti-black during the trial, was loyal to his
state; the women of the south had organized an anti-lynching league; in other
words, if Goodman’s view is that the nine boys were condemned on account of
lingering racist ideologies, he is particularly adamant to show the varieties
of opinions that permeated the south.
Goodman,
then, in the Stories of Scottsboro,
offers an exhilarating account of a lengthy trial, describing in detail the
trials and tribulations of the historical characters involved. His method is
different from that of other historians, whose aim, as described by Elizabeth
Clark is to “persuade, exalt, denigrate, and denounce.”[1]
Goodman’s achieved purpose in writing the Stories
of Scottsboro, was to engage, to provoke his reader, but also to relate a
story that is important in the more general history of the Civil Rights Era.
As
a recommendation to non-specialists of late-roman history, do read Christopher
Kelley, The End of Empire: Attila the Hun
and the Fall of Rome (New York:
Norton, 2009). It is written much in the same way. It is an excellent
and engaging read, if unpalatable as a work of proper history for most
specialists on the grounds of the poor use of sources.
[1]
Elizabeth Clark, History, Theory and Text
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2004), p.105.
