Roy Exum
It was on this exact day, 150 years ago, that General Gordon Granger stood on the balcony of Ashton Villa in Galveston, Texas, and, with 2,000 Union troops backing him up, ushered “Juneteenth Day” into America’s history. Scholars will tell you that “Juneteenth” is known as a portmanteau, or the blending of two words to make one – in this case June and nineteenth.
Ashton Villa, which has 13-inch walls to stifle the humidity and was one of the first brick buildings built in Texas, was built by skilled craftsmen brought over from Europe for the task, but the heavy lifting was done by some of the 250,000 slaves who lived in Texas at the time. And that brings us back to General Granger and the proclamation known as General Order No. 3, which he read in a hardy voice from the balcony:
“The people of Texas are informed that, in accordance with a proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free. This involves an absolute equality of personal rights and rights of property between former masters and slaves, and the connection heretofore existing between them becomes that between employer and hired labor. The freedmen are advised to remain quietly at their present homes and work for wages. They are informed that they will not be allowed to collect at military posts and that they will not be supported in idleness either there or elsewhere.”
It isn’t a stretch to say “Juneteenth,” our portmanteau, celebrates the blending of two peoples and, while it hasn’t been an easy go in the last century and a half, Ashton Villa is where it really all started. Yes, it is true that President Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation on Sept. 22, 1862, but at the time it didn’t include Tennessee, the “West,” southern Virginia or lower Louisiana because those were still occupied by the Union forces.
To further muddle the matter, Texas was too isolated to be a battleground so the Emancipation Proclamation didn’t legally apply unless a slave escaped. Not until the Army of Trans-Mississippi, which was led by future University of the South professor General Kirby Smith and included Quantrill’s Raiders, “officially” surrendered on June 2, 1865 (it actually occurred on May 26 but apparently the post office was slow) could all slaves be freed and “Juneteenth Day” is widely recognized as “Freedom” Day for all of the so-called Confederate States.
Here’s another tidbit as you light the Father’s Day grill: General Granger was one heckuva hero for the Union in the Chattanooga Campaign. He was in command of the reserve troops at the Battle of Chickamauga and on Sept. 20, 1863, he reinforced – without orders – Major General George H. Thomas’s XIV Corps who were getting hit hard on Snodgrass Hill.
Because of Granger’s brilliance, the Confederates were held off until dark, allowing the Union forces to retreat. Thomas, as you’ll remember, was called “”The Rock of Chickamauga” but I’m betting he sent Granger a bottle of his best whiskey with a thank you note. Granger was also awarded command of the IV Corps.
In short order, the third Battle of Chattanooga started and Granger sent two divisions right up the middle of the Confederates' reinforced line on Missionary Ridge. They broke through, Braxton Bragg and his Southern guys quickly retreated and, less than two years later, Granger was in Galveston reading General Order No. 3.
From what I can gather, Juneteenth Day used to be celebrated around the South with regularity. Folks would gather and sing songs like, “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” and “Lift Every Voice and Sing.” There would be lemonade and sweet tea, big pot luck suppers and – indeed – it was a day to celebrate.
When the Great Depression hit in 1929, thousands if not millions of blacks across the South moved to urban cities because that’s where they could find jobs. Unfortunately, their new employers weren’t keen on letting them off a day to celebrate.
The second Great Migration of blacks in the South began in 1940 when thousands of jobs became available to build airplanes, bombs, battleships and the like. When most blacks left the South, many never returned and, despite earnest efforts, what was once a Southern tradition has morphed into a day of observance, “a time to reflect and rejoice, because we are the children of those who chose to survive."
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