“We advise you to move and sell your house. If you do not, your wife will be shot and killed by an ex-service man. She will not be shot in the house but on her way from school.”
I can’t begin to fathom what Samuel Browne was thinking as he read the letter, its words searing into his brain. Threatening him is one thing – but his wife? The mother of his children? How could this happen? What had Samuel done that was so wrong, to prompt this kind of threat?
Unfortunately for the Brownes, their only “crime” was that they were black. The year was 1925, and the place is Staten Island, New York.
Who exactly was Samuel Browne? Born in 1873 as the son of a freed slave, Samuel grew up in the Washington DC area, settling in California after serving in the Spanish American War. He was in San Francisco during the disastrous 1906 earthquake that claimed the lives of 3,000 people. The quake, which occurred at 5:12 a.m., woke Samuel up from a sound sleep. From his bed, he watched a crack go all the way up the wall and across the ceiling. The earthquake was the event that prompted Samuel’s departure from California (“He chose to get out of Dodge,” according to his grandson Donald). Wanting familiarity and NO earthquakes, Samuel came back to DC. It was here, around 1910, that he met his future wife, Catherine Dirinda Johannes, and began working as a postal worker.
Catherine was originally from Staten Island, and perhaps that’s part of the reason why they ultimately decided to come to New York. Samuel received a transfer to a Staten Island post office and he and Catherine relocated, for a time renting apartments elsewhere on the Island. Finally, with a growing family (four children, including a set of twins, born in four years), it was time to start looking for a house of their own.
When you think about it, the Brownes could be a couple from today – he, a postal worker and his wife Catherine, a school teacher at P.S. 11. They were raising three boys and a girl. In the summer of 1924 they bought a home on Fairview Avenue in Castleton Corners, Staten Island. Things, I have to imagine, were good for a short while. Until the wrong people found out that this family was black living in a “white” neighborhood.
“Mrs. Browne is a graduate of Columbia University and began her teaching in a school on Dongan Hills. Mr. Browne is a veteran of the Spanish-American War and is employed as a postman. He is a six-footer, muscular and determined, and is not easily scared.”
Castleton Corners is one of the older neighborhoods on Staten Island. To be brief: several large estates were sold to developers in the early 1900s, who were banking on the New York City subway system expanding to Staten Island (spoiler alert: it never did). Ads were placed in all the city papers encouraging people to come to Staten Island – fresh air. Grass! Trees! And, soon enough, a subway linking the island to the rest of the city. You’d be a fool to not buy a home here now!
As a result, the time period from 1900 – 1930 was a boon to Staten Island development. Huge tracts of land, where one house or farm had stood, were cleared for dozens of homes to be built. (This happened to an even greater degree once the Verrazano Bridge was opened in the mid 1960s, but that’s another story for another day). The neighborhood the Brownes moved into in 1924 was still in the process of being developed. Most of the houses at this point would have been “new,” having been built in the last 10 or so years.
The Brownes may have known they wouldn’t be exactly “welcomed” into their new neighborhood, which was as “new” for them as most other residents. I’m guessing that, sadly, they were used to a constant low level racism following them around. But, I’m sure they reasoned, they would face that almost anywhere they lived. The house was beautiful, and who could beat a selling price of $8,500? (“Brown(e) did not move in that section because it was exclusively white, but because he liked the house, geographical location and immediate surroundings, natural and artificial.”). Despite the warnings, the Brownes moved in July 4, 1924.
The home as it appeared in 1940.
(It’s around this point in the story I should mention that because of my (admittedly) creepy research, I came across the phone number of one of Samuel’s grandchildren, Donald. Since I am calling myself “the creepy historian” on here, I figured I needed to call him. So I did, out of the blue, and we talked! I’ll be working quotes from him into this narrative.)
Things started to go off the rails a month or two after they bought the house when a neighbor (who, not coincidentally, was also the owner of the real estate company that developed the neighborhood) offered to buy their house from them – not for any altruistic reason, but simply because he didn’t want a black family living there. He offered $9,000 to buy the house. Samuel refused. He didn’t buy this house to immediately be chased from it. This was his home.
$9,500. Samuel refused.
$10,000. The papers at the time reported that Samuel and Catherine were “considering” this offer. Donald disagrees, saying it wouldn’t fit into the character of his grandparents to leave.
Regardless of how it played out, after this last offer was made, the Brownes found out that their home insurance had been abruptly cancelled. They didn’t cancel it, so they found that strange. The insurance was renewed.
Then it was cancelled again.
Then, it was cancelled again.
Then, a rumor starting spreading that their mortgage was about to be foreclosed on, despite their on-time payments.
Things….got worse.
The letters started coming, “some of which bore roughly sketched crosses.” Literal mobs started forming. Trees were uprooted. Windows – almost all of them – smashed. Repeatedly. The Ku Klux Klan let them know they were watching the Brownes. Most of these things happened all within a month or two during the summer of 1925.
“If you move into that house on Fairview Avenue, Castleton Hill, it will be the worse day’s work you ever did. You may treat this lightly, but after you move in it will be too late. You should know better than to move where you are not wanted. KKK.”
Donald’s father, Samuel’s son, was around four or five years old when all this was going on. Donald told me how his father, just a young child, would be awakened at night by rocks crashing through his bedroom window. It seems like a distant memory, because in some ways it is, but we are so close to this point in history, even now. This time in history is just beyond our reach, but it’s still there.
Can you imagine being or having a young sleeping child awakened by a rock shattering a window?
As darkness fell each night, instead of going to bed, Samuel sat on his porch. In his lap, a gun. Every night, he waited.
“He took up sitting on that front porch with a gun to protect his family and his house,” Donald says. Donald stressed throughout the the conversation that the most important thing to be taken from all of this was that his family refused to be victimized and did whatever they had to do to succeed. “My grandfather was not a victim. He stood up for himself and his family. He went about doing what he needed to do to protect his assets, protect his family and be a man.”
A patrol was assembled, first amongst friends of the Brownes, and, later, the police.
For a year, the house under constant patrol. For an entire year. In fact, the last day of the police watch was so notable, it garnered front page coverage in The New York Age. Samuel Browne also appealed to the closest chapter of the NAACP, which was in Manhattan. After this incident, he became instrumental in establishing the first Staten Island chapter.
How did this year of terror end? Well – Samuel Browne was pretty pissed off, and knew how to hit ’em where it hurts. He sued. He sued a group of nine named neighbors (including Musco M. Robertson, the head of the land development company that built the Brownes’ home, and, it should be noted, the Brownes’ next door neighbor) as well as five “John Does” for $100,000 in damages (almost $1.5 million today), on the basis of conspiracy (related to the cancelled insurance policy). A grand jury indicted all the men.
“Brown(e) says he will stay in his house, and only asks that he be left alone.”
And, indeed, that’s exactly what happened. Even Donald is not entirely sure how things played out: “The end of how that happened, I believe, is a situation where it is seems like things passed/ended organically. They lived in that house for the rest of their lives.” Local news coverage stopped rather suddenly and it seems they were able to finally just live in peace.
Live they did – for the next five decades, the Brownes went about their lives and remained in their home on Fairview Avenue. Samuel passed away in 1971 at the age of 97. Catherine passed away a year later at 88 years old. Their house has been sold a few times since then, but retains much of its original look. The neighborhood and their block is peaceful and quiet. Walking by the house now, you’d never know the struggle one family went through to stay in their home so many years ago.
Perhaps that’s the best possible ending – a kind of non-ending. I’d say most of us want to live out our lives with our families in peace and happiness. That’s what Samuel and Catherine ended up getting. When asked if his grandparents were aware of the enormity of what they went through, Donald said, “I don’t know if anybody living through events in their lives know the significance or appreciate it. He probably thought he was being a good citizen, being a good father, being a good husband.”
But for Donald (and, I’m guessing, for Samuel’s other children and grandchildren), this event left a lasting impact: “What my grandparents did and my parents did made me who I am. My grandfather was not a man who was a coward, who took a back seat and allowed himself to become a victim and just look for a handout. Much can be learned from just the average life that he led. These are the stories that create the fabric of this nation.”
“It is now a matter of principle with me. I’m going to fight it out until the end.”
*Note: At some point, possibly with further development of the neighborhood, the house address changed from 67 Fairview to 167 Fairview.
SOURCES
“Staten Islanders Object to Negro Moving Into Home.” The New York Age, September 6, 1924, 3.
“Richmond Prosecutor to Probe Attack on Negro.” The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, July 19, 1925, 18.
“Won’t Sell His Home; Will Fight, Says Negro.” The Evening News, July 22, 1925, 9.
“Race Man’s House Attacked; Much Damage is Done.” The Buffalo American, July 23, 1925, 1.
“Mob Attacks Home; Friends on Guard with Guns.” The Pittsburgh Courier, July 25, 1925, 1-2.
“Staten Island Grand Jury Indicts Big Realtor and Five Others on Vandalism Charge; Wanted to Make Negroes Move.” The New York Age, August 29, 1925, 1.
“Files $100,000 Damage Suit in Fight For Home.” The Pittsburgh Courier, December 19, 1925, 1.
“Staten Island Postman Files $100,000 Damage Suit Against Whites Who Would Oust Him From Home Account of Color.” The New York Age, December 19, 1925, 1.
