Abstract
In the twentieth-century American South, black religious institutions played key roles in shaping and reshaping urban landscapes. In doing so, these institutions made significant, but often overlooked, contributions to the “Long Civil Rights Movement.” In Memphis, no church better exemplified the intimate intertwining of race, space, and religion than the Church of God in Christ (COGIC). The history of COGIC in Memphis complicates the assumption that the Civil Rights Movement dictated a simple move from segregated black space to racially integrated space and breaks down false spatial dichotomies such as black/white and religious/secular. Instead, COGIC built segregated worship space, moved into white residential space, adapted black religious space for overtly political purposes, and finally, claimed white secular space for black religious purposes. Alongside the properly celebrated deeds of national leaders, local reconfigurations of urban space by religious institutions deserve to be recognized as a prime factor in the long road to civil rights.
In 2008, presidential candidate Hillary Clinton addressed a large crowd on the fortieth anniversary of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s assassination. In her speech, Clinton tried to fend off a potentially damaging problem for her campaign. Earlier in the year, Clinton had angered many supporters by stating: “Dr. King’s dream began to be realized when President Lyndon Johnson passed the Civil Rights Act of 1964 . . . it took a president to get it done.” 1 By portraying the Civil Rights Movement as a story of legislative success, Clinton had seemingly disregarded the important role of African American leaders. Now she corrected her earlier statement. With deliberate emphasis, she told the audience, “Because of Dr. King, these young people, my daughter’s generation, grew up taking for granted that children of all colors could attend school together.” 2 With this remark, Clinton explicitly gave the famed Reverend credit for the achievements of the Civil Rights Movement. Yet even as Clinton broadened her interpretation of the Movement, she did not fully capture the forces that propelled it. She failed to recognize that the Civil Rights Movement always involved more than the undeniably important contributions of either national politicians like Johnson or national reformers like King.
A fuller understanding of the Civil Rights Movement comes into focus when one considers the venue in which Clinton invoked King’s legacy. She spoke in Memphis at Mason Temple, the national headquarters of the Church of God in Christ (COGIC), at the very pulpit where Martin Luther King delivered his final speech the night before he was assassinated. When Clinton entered the Temple—as had a long line of prestigious speakers before her, including Ralph Abernathy, James Lawson, Bill Clinton, Al Gore, and many others—she walked through the Temple foyer, which housed the embalmed remains of revered COGIC founder C. H. Mason. In this spatial context, the different worlds represented by Clinton and Mason converged.
While Clinton represented and remembered the national, political history of the Civil Rights Movement, Mason represented the Movement’s localized, urban history—a history in which the Movement’s chronology is longer and religion plays a greater day-to-day role in determining race relations. 3 Significantly, a close examination of the quest for civil rights within a localized, urban context also reveals the ways in which urban space played a profound role in the Movement.
Before African Americans had access to political power or widespread economic mobility, they had access to urban space and were able to shape that space most effectively through institutions such as churches. Throughout the twentieth century, black churches provided physical spaces in which African Americans could congregate, anchored the neighborhoods in which they were located, and served as a pathway to respectability from which African Americans could claim other spaces such as “white” residential areas and civic spaces. As a result, spatial gains functioned as one of the earliest manifestations of the Civil Rights Movement, provided a blueprint for later attempts to gain political and economic rights, and continuously functioned as one of the Movement’s key assets in the quest for equality. Indeed, from the purview of Mason Temple and other COGIC spaces in Memphis, the Civil Rights Movement begins to look more complex than what Clinton imagined in either of her public statements in 2008.
When the Civil Rights Movement is viewed from spaces such as Mason Temple, it is evident that spatial gains functioned as an inevitable precursor to political and economic rights. Undoubtedly, the Civil Rights Movement would not have been the Civil Rights Movement without leaders such as King. But Martin Luther King would not have been Martin Luther King without spaces such as Mason Temple and the willingness of religious organizations such as COGIC to redefine the urban landscape.
The story of civil rights in Memphis suggests that interpretations of the Movement must fully consider the effects of spatial reconfiguration. 4 It is equally important to recognize that religion functioned as the primary vehicle through which African Americans shaped urban space during much of the twentieth century. 5 In fact, no institution reshaped the physical landscape of civil rights as much as African American churches, and in Memphis, no church better exemplifies the intimate intertwining of race, space, religion, and politics than the Church of God in Christ. 6 With 6.5 million “Saints” (the denomination’s name for its members), the Church of God in Christ is the nation’s largest denomination of African American Pentecostals and one of the largest Protestant bodies of any kind. 7 Careful observation of the physical spaces occupied by COGIC in Memphis reveals how this one institution became important locally. That history, in turn, reveals how the church and its leaders—by claiming space—made an indispensable contribution to the nation’s long-delayed achievement of civil rights for African Americans. 8
Most scholars recognize that black churches served as important meeting places where civil rights leaders organized iconic activities of the Movement such as sit-ins. 9 Mark Noll correctly argues, “no political account of the era that does not foreground black religion and ponder carefully the place of religion in the wider society can be considered historically responsible.” 10 Yet, the week-in, week-out urban impact of black churches over the long term was more significant than standard narratives reveal.
Too often, it is assumed that the Civil Rights Movement involved a simple shift from segregated black space to racially integrated space. A closer reading in one significant local context, however, complicates this assumption by breaking down false spatial dichotomies such as black/white and religious/secular. Specifically, the history of COGIC in Memphis shows the Saints: building segregated worship space; then, moving into white residential space; then, adapting black religious space for overtly political purposes; and finally, claiming white secular space for black religious purposes. Alongside the properly celebrated deeds of national leaders, local reconfigurations of urban space deserve to be recognized as a prime factor in the long road to civil rights reform.
Space is never neutral. By claiming space in Memphis, the Church of God in Christ and its leaders asserted power and demanded respectability for African Americans. Throughout the twentieth century, COGIC leaders adapted their tactics in response to changing political and economic conditions, but an emphasis on claiming space remained consistently central. Within the urban South, in order to gain the metaphorical space to govern, vote, and organize (often seen as the culmination of the Civil Rights Movement), African Americans first had to claim physical space—space to worship, space to live, space to act, and space to stay.
Space to Worship (1907-1953)
The story of the Church of God in Christ began in Memphis when Reverend C. H. Mason founded the denomination in 1907. Initially, COGIC operated in a city controlled by famed machine boss, E. H. Crump, who reigned so supremely over local politics from his election as Mayor in 1910 until his death in 1954 that the Saturday Evening Post referred to him the “Fuehrer” of Memphis.
11
During his tenure, Crump made some concessions to the African American community but never promoted true equality. For example, he stated:
You have a bunch of niggers teaching social equality, stirring up social hatred. I am not going to stand for it. . . . This is Memphis. . . . We are not going to tolerate a bunch of niggers spreading racial hatred and running things their way. Tell them Mr. Crump said so. You understand me?
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Clearly, Crump’s relationship with black Memphians was sometimes tense.
During the Crump era, racial discrimination was often expressed spatially. Intentionally, the public services in African American neighborhoods never equaled those in white communities. When Memphis adopted its first comprehensive zoning ordinance in 1922, the commission chairman explained, “The colored population is found exclusively in the cheaper, less desirable sections of the city. Thus, we have a sort of natural zoning of the races.” 13 As historian of Memphis Roger Biles notes, “the strict application of residential zoning laws, particularly having to do with dwelling standards went a long way toward preserving the exclusivity of white enclaves.” 14 Furthermore, in 1936, Rayburn Whitson Johnson documented “a very high correlation between the distribution of bad drainage areas and Negro residential communities.” 15
Like all politicians, however, Crump needed votes to maintain power and ensure his candidates were elected. In particular, Crump needed the African American vote, which composed an unparalleled 40 percent of the local electorate by the 1920s. 16 Unlike other Southern states, Tennessee did not thoroughly disenfranchise blacks after Reconstruction. Although deterrents included a poll tax, Tennessee never enacted other forms of discrimination such as literacy tests and grandfather clauses. 17 This gave black Memphians a rare opportunity to effect changes in the city, many of which resulted in new and improved urban space for African Americans.
Indeed, Memphis’ African American community combated widespread spatial discrimination by achieving impressive spatial gains. For example, in 1913, the Colored Citizens Association successfully petitioned the city to establish Frederick Douglass Park. 18 In 1923, black Memphians refused to support the reelection of Mayor Rowlett Paine until he promised to build a new African American high school. Similarly, in 1927, Robert Church, the nation’s first black millionaire, formed the West Tennessee Civic and Political League. In addition to voter registration, the League tackled urban landscape issues such as poorly lit and unpaved streets, along with the lack of recreational space available to African Americans.
Likewise, the Church of God in Christ also responded directly to spatial discrimination by asserting spatial claims. For example, the denomination constructed increasingly grandiose churches. Although segregated, these religious spaces provided African Americans with unique opportunities for fellowship and self-expression. 19 With impressive scale and splendor, the churches also served as highly visible monuments to black achievement. A relative lack of access to wealth, political office, and many professions led African Americans to use public church architecture to assert respectability throughout the urban South. A key difference in Memphis, however, stemmed from the fact that COGIC’s individual congregations never composed the denomination’s most significant claim on the local landscape.
Instead, COGIC’s primary need for space—along with its prime opportunity to exploit space—stemmed from Memphis’ role as denominational headquarters and host to the Saints’ large annual convention known as “Convocation” that drew delegates from across the country. 20 Throughout the first half of the twentieth century, COGIC became a truly national denomination and contributed greatly to the urbanization of black religion in America. 21 As the Great Migration brought Saints to northern cities such as Chicago, Detroit, Philadelphia, and New York, they established new congregations. By 1926, the U.S. census reported that COGIC had 1,444 congregations and 63,558 members nationwide. 22 In the midst of this Pentecostal diaspora, however, Memphis remained COGIC’s “Jerusalem,” and the denomination continually increased its spatial presence throughout the city.
As Elton Weaver has argued, Bishop Mason “transformed a migrant movement into an urban phenomenon.” 23 It has been less recognized, however, that he did so in large part by claiming space. Each November, the Saints sought space to stage their growing Convocation. Amid strict Jim Crow segregation, Memphis’ white facilities were obviously not an option. Consequently, COGIC constructed a series of Convocation facilities, each one bigger and more complex than the last. After holding Convocation in a tent in the early days, the denomination erected its first national temple at 392 South Wellington Street, but soon outgrew the wood-frame building and replaced it with a more grandiose brick building that included a kitchen, two restrooms, a pastor’s study, a dining room, and a balcony (Figure 1). 24 In 1924, Bishop Mason purchased land at 958 S. Fifth Street and built a Tabernacle for Convocation that reputedly held five thousand people. This building successfully housed the Saints until a fire destroyed it in 1936. 25 Once again, Convocation needed a new home, and white facilities remained inaccessible. As a result, the Saints began holding Convocation at Bishop Mason’s local congregation, Home Temple, which they remodeled to include two kitchens, two dining rooms, new balconies, a baggage room, and offices for Mason, the bishops, and the women’s staff. 26 The facilities’ growth in size and sophistication reflected COGIC’s increasing stature in the community.
This tent was an early home of Church of God in Christ (COGIC) Convocation. The denomination’s rapid growth, combined with inadequate financing and widespread spatial segregation, made temporary facilities necessary.
During this period, the Saints claimed space in a way that eventually altered race relations, even as they were reassuring white Memphians that they did not intend to do so. During the 1920s and 1930s, despite COGIC’s increasing national prominence and spatial capital, it avoided controversy with Memphis’ white community. Ultimately, however, the structures built during this period provided literal and metaphorical foundations for Memphis’ Civil Rights Movement, and the importance of this phase of institution building should not be underestimated. 27
By the late 1930s, even in the midst of the Great Depression, growing economic stability and cultural prowess allowed the denomination to largely dictate the type of space it wanted and needed. In a testament to Convocation’s national stature, and as part of his effort to strengthen his standing in black communities, President Franklin Roosevelt wrote COGIC delegates in 1938, stating: “I send all who attend the convention of the Church of God in Christ my cordial greeting and best wishes for a gathering which will promote and advance the interests of true religion.” 28 Once again, COGIC’s newfound recognition would be accompanied by physical growth.
By 1940, Bishop Mason sought as his legacy a monumental building that would represent the stature he had worked so hard to obtain for his denomination. Mason could have written a book or advocated legislation, but he saw a building—a place—as the penultimate achievement of his career. The subsequent construction of “Mason Temple” at 958 S. Fifth Street reveals much about COGIC’s priorities—namely, its emphasis on physical space—and simultaneously illuminates COGIC’s relationship with local whites.
The construction of Mason Temple demonstrated the level of autonomy COGIC had achieved from the white community. As Bishop Mason planned the Temple, he secured all of the technical expertise he needed from COGIC members. Bishop R. W. Williams oversaw the creation of Mason Temple; Elder W. H. Taylor served as the architect; and U. E. Miller, COGIC’s National Secretary, supervised construction. 29 The COGIC Women’s Department also contributed greatly through their active fundraising efforts, even organizing special funds for items such as Mason Temple’s iconic neon sign (see Figure 2). 30
Mason Temple presents a very solid, imposing feel on the surrounding landscape. It is almost fortress-like and conveys the sense that it is not merely a religious space, but rather a civic institution.
This autonomy was not complete, however, so the building process also provides insight into COGIC’s savvy cultivation of the white community’s support. During construction of the massive temple, COGIC faced no challenges directly from the white community. In fact, some local whites supported the endeavor financially, which allowed the church to complete the magnificent edifice without incurring debt. 31 For example, after receiving a letter from Bishop Mason, Boss Crump immediately donated $10,000 to the construction project. 32 COGIC also received support and advice from local officials such as Mayor Walter Chandler and U.S. Senator Kenneth McKellar, who met with denominational officials as they attempted to secure the steel necessary for construction in the midst of wartime rationing. 33 This support testified to white Memphians’ willingness not only to tolerate but actually encourage COGIC’s claims of segregated space—even when those spaces surpassed most white institutions in grandeur.
The Saints insisted that COGIC’s spatial and cultural accomplishments depended largely upon Bishop Mason’s efforts to build friendly relations with Memphis’ white community. 34 For example, Bishop R. W. Williams explained, “the white citizens were very generous in their consideration for this church, in every respect. This was largely because of the influence of Bishop Mason. No single person, nor group of people, white or colored, influenced the City as a whole, toward the building of the Temple, more than that one name, Charles H. Mason.” 35 Mason demanded that COGIC respect local officials and stated that one of the denomination’s goals was “To be loyal in our building program to the city authorities of Memphis, Tennessee.” 36 Although various factions in the Civil Rights Movement later derided this type of seemingly accomodationist rhetoric, for Bishop Mason, it provided an expedient way to achieve some of his goals.
Indeed, it would be a mistake to assume that Mason was afraid to challenge white authority. Even in the early years of his ministry, Mason espoused pacifism during World War I, bringing himself under arrest and his denomination under FBI scrutiny. 37 In his relationship with local officials, however, Mason simply chose another tactic and avoided direct confrontation. 38 As a result, city authorities overwhelmingly approved of Mason Temple. Mayor Walter Chandler issued a proclamation stating, “Congratulations to Bishop Mason and the members and friends of the Church of God in Christ on the completion of the magnificent Temple. May this handsome edifice serve to bring people of this Faith together often and in great numbers; and may the work which has already spread far and wide be extended to the uttermost parts of the world.” 39 COGIC’s ability to garner the approval of local officials reveals that they emphatically understood the public, interracial significance of this private, segregated space.
When Mason Temple was completed in 1945, its majestic scale dominated the surrounding neighborhood’s landscape (Figure 2). It was the largest black-owned auditorium in the nation—no doubt a symbol of immense pride for COGIC. 40 The white-owned Memphis Press-Scimitar called it a “million dollar temple.” 41 Standing on top of a low-land terrace rising above the street, the fortress-like reinforced concrete building was clad in masonry with brick, stone, and cast stone veneers. The central auditorium was reported to hold five thousand people on its main level and 2,500 in a horseshoe-shaped balcony, while the rear balcony accommodated a 750-member choir (Figure 3). There was also a large secondary auditorium beneath the choir. 42
Interior of Mason Temple (date unknown).
Yet the Temple was not merely a large auditorium—it was a full-service convention center that rivaled or even exceeded the local venues available for white gatherings. It housed two full-service kitchens that could feed five hundred to one thousand people per hour in a large cafeteria. 43 In the Temple’s medical rooms, registered nurses looked after Convocation delegates. If Saints needed a haircut, Mason Temple featured both a beauty parlor and a barbershop (Figure 4). There was even a post office. As the Memphis Press-Scimitar explained, “Almost everything delegates need is right in the Temple.” 44 By serving religious, social, and commercial functions, Mason Temple provided Convocation with an unusual degree of independence from Memphis’s white community during the Jim Crow era. Scholar Robert Franklin has argued that Mason Temple functioned as “a sort of ecclesiastical counterpart to Booker T. Washington’s Tuskegee experiment; concrete proof that black people could build, own, and operate their own nationally recognized institutions.” 45 The Temple also assumed an important place in Memphis’ urban landscape.
Souvenir postcard of Mason Temple barbershop.
As Mason Temple rose above the nearby bungalows and ranch-style homes typical of middle-class Memphis at the time, it anchored the surrounding neighborhood and provided a community landmark. Simultaneously, Mason Temple played a direct role in counteracting the spatial discrimination that had plagued black Memphians throughout the twentieth century. In 1953, Bishop J. S. Bailey explained how Mason Temple transformed the adjacent urban landscape. He described the property at 958 S. Fifth Street as “a very remote site that through the genius of Charles Harrison Mason has become one of the most conspicuous in the city of Memphis. Dwellings that seemed unfit for habitation have been reconditioned, homes that Negroes were not allowed to rent are now owned by them, new transportation buses are on the route, sewers are being laid, streets made wider, all by the attention of someone that God destined to bring, one C. H. Mason to the eyes of the Executives of the City of Memphis.” 46 Over the next twenty years, COGIC added six new buildings to the property, including dormitories for delegates, a publishing house, and a home for Bishop Mason. The site spanned three city blocks and truly became a World Headquarters complex for the denomination and one of the city’s most notable institutions. 47
Bishop Mason’s efforts to assert COGIC’s respectability by developing spaces that demanded admiration culminated in Mason Temple. From almost every perspective, his hard work succeeded. By 1949, Watkins Overton, Memphis’ white mayor, felt compelled to personally attend Convocation (as would all Memphis mayors after him) and welcome the African American Pentecostals to the city. 48 In 1953, the City of Memphis bestowed additional accolades on Mason and the Church of God in Christ when it renamed the section of Fifth Avenue where Mason Temple stood Mason Avenue. 49 COGIC Bishop D. C. Love explained, “The City of Memphis is old, and never before in its history has it been known that a man of the Negro race has been so highly honored. Bishop Mason’s reputation in Memphis, Tenn. has brought him to the eyes of the people of Memphis, not only to the citizens in general, but to the Executives of the same” 50 (Figure 5). It is important to note, however, that Mason’s success stemmed largely from the widespread support his endeavors received from his fellow Saints.
Bishop Mason, E. W. Mason, and Mayor Chandler at Convocation in 1955.
Without the backing of COGIC clergy and laity, Mason’s achievements with the Temple and the cordial relations he cultivated with local leaders would not have been possible. In large part, however, COGIC’s ability to present a united front and garner the respect of local white officials was the result of the unquestioned loyalty Mason commanded as the prophet-like head of the denomination. One COGIC publication even claimed that the Bishop possessed “supernatural qualities” and claimed, “It is not robbery to say that Elder Mason is an apostle with divine qualities comparing favorably with those of the apostles of the early church.” 51 In fact, denominational support for Bishop Mason’s dream appears to have been nearly unanimous. For example, Samuel Crouch wrote: “Bishop Mason has accomplished his greatest task . . . [Mason Temple] is something that will inspire generations to come—a monument to the Negro race, a great contribution to Christianity.” Likewise, W. M. Roberts stated, “We are happy today as we humbly bow in reverence and honor to this noble man of God, C. H. Mason. . . . Space will not permit and words are inadequate to do justice and homage to our beloved father in the Gospel. This great Temple with its massive walls will stand as an immortal memorial to his name.” 52
As a result of COGIC’s spatial success, the local African American newspaper, the Tri-State Defender, reported in 1951: “Folks are beginning to take the ‘Saints’ more seriously.” 53 Indeed, in that same year, Memphis Mayor Frank Tobey delivered the opening speech at Convocation. 54 On the national level, Ebony magazine concluded, “Even the harshest of their well-informed critics concede that the Church of God in Christ has arrived in numbers and prominence.” 55
What began in 1907 as a denomination of poor, rural, black migrants with charismatic religious practices—the polar opposite of respectability in Progressive Era Memphis, which valued urbanity, whiteness, and formal religion—was now a pillar of black achievement, an accomplishment largely fueled by COGIC’s spatial gains. When Mason and his followers had first begun worshiping in Memphis, the Commercial Appeal referred to the Saints as “nothing but a set of ignorant fanatics.” 56 Now, local officials consistently thanked the denomination for its contributions to the city. As the nation turned its attention to racial integration, however, white approval of COGIC quickly disintegrated.
Space to Live (1954-1960)
In 1954, Boss Crump died. Leaving no successor, his political machine died with him. 57 One year later, Bishop Mason resigned as pastor of Home Temple. His son, C. H. (Bob) Mason, Jr. succeeded him. 58 For both Memphis and COGIC, a new chapter of history began. At the same time, a new era began nationwide as Brown v. Board initiated a series of integrationist efforts that included events such as the 1955 Montgomery Bus Boycott, which introduced Martin Luther King, Jr. to the nation. During this period, significant spatial changes once again altered the status of African Americans in Memphis, and COGIC played a major role in effecting these changes.
As Bishop Mason passed the torch to his son Bob, a shift occurred in COGIC’s brand of civic activism. Both men had consistently opposed racial segregation, but their responses to segregation were quite different. As a result, Bob Mason’s career is best understood simultaneously as a continuation of his father’s beliefs and something new. 59 Whereas Mason, Sr. worked within the confines of Jim Crow America and claimed prominent segregated spaces for worship, Mason, Jr. claimed a new kind of space for African American Memphians—integrated space in which to live. Whereas Mason, Sr. served as a religious and social leader for black Memphians, Mason, Jr. used his position as a COGIC minister to act as a civic leader on issues affecting both black and white Memphians.
One of the earliest manifestations of this generational shift emerged when COGIC came into unprecedented conflict with the white community over the issue of housing. In Memphis in the 1950s, traditionally black neighborhoods continued to lack adequate city services. At the same time, postwar economic prosperity, the abolition of restrictive covenants, and widespread housing shortages (exacerbated by the city’s urban renewal and highway development plans) combined to lead many African Americans to seek homes in the “white” suburbs along Memphis’ Parkway System. 60 In 1955, A. W. Willis, Jr., a local African American attorney, encouraged this trend by founding the Mutual Federal Savings and Loan Co., which made mortgages more accessible to middle-class blacks. Willis then created the Homebuyer’s Revolving Loan Fund for first-time homebuyers in moderate or low-income brackets, a move that alarmed many white Memphians. 61
The movement of African Americans into previously white neighborhoods would later become a nationwide story of shifting urban demographics. In the 1950s, however, this remained largely a southern story. As Kevin Kruse explains, “southern whites were confronted with a pace of residential racial change that came much earlier, faster, and stronger than their northern counterparts.” 62 Quickly, white neighborhoods became the new battlefield for racial progress in Memphis, and black efforts to claim integrated living space were largely led by Bishop Mason’s son, Reverend Bob Mason, Jr.
In June of 1956, Rev. Bob Mason purchased a home on Glenview Avenue in the white Glenview neighborhood. Mason claimed that “white friends” incorrectly informed him that the block was “going Negro.” By the time he realized his mistake, Mason explained, he had already purchased the home. Still, he insisted, “I’m not a troublemaker” and assured Glenview residents that he would not move in right away. 63
Although Mason was not actually occupying 1755 Glenview, his purchase generated an immediate response from white neighbors who viewed Mason’s spatial claim as a threat to their property values and way of life. 64 Although the official neighborhood association, the Glenview Civic Club, did not ordinarily meet during the summertime, residents quickly gathered and decided that they must find a white buyer for Mason’s home, demand that he sell the property, and convince other property owners not to sell to blacks. 65 The battle for living space had begun.
Despite opposition, Mason and his family moved into their Glenview home in February of 1958. They immediately received a threatening letter. 66 Threats quickly turned to action when disgruntled citizens burned a cross in Mason’s front yard. 67 Alice Rosebrough, one of Mason’s segregationist neighbors, explained the incident: “He agreed to sell it to us at first, but now he says he will not. We have done everything we could to be polite and courteous about this, but now the people are inflamed.” 68
Rosebrough, like other segregationist neighbors, was a constant but ultimately ineffective thorn in Mason’s side. She even went directly to COGIC officials and asked them to pressure Mason, Jr. to move. They refused, signaling denominational backing for Mason as he claimed living space. Mason also appears to have had the support of his local congregation. In a denomination where intra-church disputes are consistently documented in the local media, no evidence in any relevant publication suggests that Bob Mason’s actions undermined his congregational authority. If anything, it appears to have bolstered it as Mason continued to serve his congregation while at the same time becoming an increasingly important public figure. 69 Furthermore, Mason’s affiliation with COGIC, one of the most prominent denominations in Memphis, provided him with a strong support network and enlisted the broader African American community in his efforts. For example, Memphis’ African American newspaper, the Tri-State Defender, enthusiastically reported on events in Glenview, including Ms. Rosebrough’s death. When she died in 1959, the Defender stated somewhat gleefully: “The Northern-born woman, who was a segregationist to the end . . . squandered what turned out to be her final Sunday afternoon at the head of a noisy little band called the Peaceful Pickets of Glenview, tramping up and down the area in front of Negro homes on the street.” 70 Amid black religious and racial solidarity, threats from the white community ironically became less effective as intimidation tactics and served instead as catalysts for integration.
Desegregation in Glenview did not merely alter white residential space, however; it also redefined the cultural meaning of black religious space. A week after the violence began at Mason’s home, fire destroyed Home Temple (the COGIC church that Bob Mason, Jr. had inherited from his father). 71 City authorities ultimately ruled the fire “accidental,” but the very suspicious timing of the incident forced questions to linger (Figure 6). In their report on the fire, the Press-Scimitar called Mason a “controversial figure,” but it would be wrong to think of him merely as an individual—he was also a representative of a prominent religious institution. Consequently, as Carroll Van West explains, Mason’s efforts to claim white residential space made COGIC a symbol of integration and thus a target for retribution. 72
C. H. Mason, Jr. (left) and two deacons stand outside the smoldering Home Temple as firemen continue to enter the building (right).
In a dramatic reversal of events, the architectural prowess that had garnered COGIC accolades from the white community in the segregated forties became a political liability in the increasingly integrated fifties. When COGIC purchased Home Temple in 1931, it was one of the finest African American buildings in town. The church even contained a swimming pool, which for many years was the only such facility for blacks in Memphis. 73 Despite the church’s imposing grandeur, it aroused no objection from the white community at the time. It was only after COGIC posed a public threat to segregation that the denomination and its buildings incurred the wrath of the white community. 74
Unfortunately, the violence was not over. On March 3, 1958, an arsonist set fire to Mason’s attic in his Glenview home. Simultaneously, a neighbor who worked as a real estate broker selling homes to African Americans received a phone call stating, “See what’s happening to Mason. If you don’t get that ___ sign out of your yard, you’ll get the same.” 75 As tensions continued to build, local problems drew national attention. As a sign of the era’s racial hierarchy, the FBI even began investigating Mason, Jr. and a “racial situation in Tennessee” just as they had his father before him. 76
In the midst of this violence, local religious leaders across denominational lines increasingly took a stance on this spatial issue, suggesting that COGIC’s leadership extended beyond denominational boundaries to the black religious community in general, a particularly impressive feat in a city where Baptists and Methodists presumed greater prestige than holiness churches. For example, the African American pastor of Mt. Moriah Missionary Baptist Church, a prominent Memphis congregation, also bought a home in Glenview to show solidarity with COGIC’s efforts to claim space. 77 Soon thereafter, other black residents joined Mason in Glenview, but as evidence of COGIC’s local symbolic importance, Mason remained the focal point for whites fighting integration with violence and intimidation (Figure 7).
Bob Mason’s son playing in the yard of their Glenview home.
As Glenview segregationists seemed to lose ground, they resorted to an assault on Bob Mason’s character and tried to intimidate local officials. In October 1958, the Memphis Police Department arrested Mason, a minister in a denomination with strict codes of sexual morality, for “aiding and abetting prostitution.” 78 Following the arrest, 1,326 white residents petitioned the City Commission asking that Mason be compelled to move. 79 For much of the previous year, the violence and bigotry surrounding the desegregation of Central High School in Arkansas had captured the nation’s attention. Invoking a threat of similar televised violence, the petition warned officials, “We ask you gentlemen to bear in mind what happened in Little Rock when Representative Hays no longer listened to the voices of his constituents. We in Glenview have no idea of allowing this matter to drop.” 80
Two days later, however, the Grand Jury acquitted Mason of all charges. It turned out that the situation was much less scandalous than it initially appeared. Police claimed that Mason allowed an unmarried couple (Mason’s brother-in-law and his girlfriend) to live together in his home. Mason argued that the couple did not live there, but were merely guarding his house in the midst of racial violence. Cohabitation charges against the couple were also dismissed. 81 The incident, however, is a testament to COGIC’s increasingly confrontational relationship with local authorities as it is nearly unthinkable that Bob Mason’s father, Bishop Mason, would ever have been subjected to such harsh treatment. Although Mason, Jr. was legally absolved, the emotional and physical turmoil endured.
1958 had been a long, tumultuous year for Mason already, and it was not over yet. Segregationists shot bullets into the side of Mason’s house and into his car’s gas tank. An arsonist doused his yard and shrubs with gasoline and set them ablaze. On one evening in December, rocks crashed through Mason’s window, shattering glass across the bassinet where his baby slept. As a father, Mason was infuriated. When a segregationist neighbor passed his house the next day, he stood in the doorway wielding a shotgun. Mason claimed the gun was not loaded, but the police arrested him again. 82
Within less than two years, however, the tide had subtly turned. When four white adolescents set off a small bomb at his home in 1960, Mason spoke on behalf of the young men in Juvenile Court and even tried to help one of the boys get his job back as a newspaper carrier after he was fired because of the incident. 83 Through his actions, Mason demonstrated to the city that COGIC’s position was no longer one of mere defense against hostile whites, but rather a position of community leadership in a biracial city. Throughout the 1960s, Mason and COGIC leaders would become increasingly confident about African Americans’ rights to claim space and assert civic leadership as the results of desegregation in Glenview spread to the rest of the city.
The violence in Glenview and other neighborhoods had long-term effects on Memphis, most visibly through widespread white flight (Table 1). A combination of racial tensions, the allure of newly built homes, government subsidies, and the emergence of a consumption-driven, middle-class identity made Memphis’ suburbs a popular option for many whites. 84 This metropolitan spatial reconfiguration was accompanied by unintended consequences. As many whites moved beyond the city limits, an opportunity arose for African Americans to claim unprecedented political power locally.
Black and White Populations in Memphis, 1960-2000
Note: This chart reflects an inversion of black/white population statistics between 1960 and 2000, starkly illustrating the reality of widespread white flight in Memphis.
Source: The data for 1960-1990 was drawn from Wright, Race, Power, and Political Emergence in Memphis. 2000 data available online: U.S. Bureau of the Census, 2000. Census of Population and Housing. Washington, DC: Government Printing Office.
For the long history of the Civil Rights Movement in Memphis, the desegregation of Glenview signaled the growing politicization of COGIC and local blacks in general. The Tri-State Defender referred to 1958 (the year of the greatest violence against Mason) as “the political awakening of Negroes in Memphis and Shelby County” after African American Memphians bolstered their electoral power through registration efforts and “single-shot” voting. 85 A newfound solidarity among local blacks was further evidenced by the fact that Memphis’ once lackluster NAACP had grown into the organization’s largest chapter in the South by the late 1950s. 86 These political gains for African Americans in Memphis represented an important breakthrough, but the way had been prepared by earlier spatial gains.
Space to Act (1959-1968)
Within COGIC, Bob Mason, Jr.’s quest for residential space quickly transformed into a struggle for political rights. In the process, the physical space of Mason Temple again played a significant role. In the past, the denomination used Mason Temple primarily as a religious and social space. In the midst of the Glenview incidents, however, COGIC converted this religious space into an overtly political space. In 1959, COGIC transformed Mason Temple into Memphis’ premier venue for supporting the election of black candidates. The denomination worked in conjunction with the “Volunteer Ticket”—a ballot created by Memphis’ African American leadership that presented black candidates for a variety of offices. To be sure, Mason Temple had hosted mayors and other dignitaries before. In 1948, the famed singer/actor Paul Robeson had even given a concert at Mason Temple in support of white Progressive Party presidential candidate Henry Wallace—but COGIC’s use of religious space to elect local black candidates was unprecedented.
The Volunteer Ticket immediately generated a great deal of excitement, but the candidates lacked money and a venue from which to spread their message. COGIC provided both. In July of 1959, the denomination organized a massive fundraiser at Mason Temple, transforming the grandiose religious space into an effective political space. The evening began with the sounds of famed Gospel singer Mahalia Jackson. Then, Martin Luther King, Jr., who was already a nationally renowned orator, asked the five thousand citizens gathered at Mason Temple to donate $1 each to the Volunteer Ticket. 87 The Tri-State Defender reported that “Applause literally rocked Mason Temple.” Reverend King claimed that he “had never seen such enthusiasm at a meeting of Negroes.” In a clear departure from the rhetoric at COGIC headquarters during Bishop Mason’s tenure, one speaker that evening declared, “Let this night be the burial of uncle toms of all shapes, forms and fashions!” 88
This would not be the last time that the Church of God in Christ in Memphis provided a literal platform for political candidates. Ultimately, all of the Volunteer Ticket candidates lost, but the 1959 election signaled a new era in Memphis politics because it was the first time that the majority of black voters in the city supported black candidates. 89 Recognizing the Volunteer Ticket’s accomplishments, defeated candidate Russell Sugarmon concluded, “We won everything but the election.” 90 Without physical spaces such as Mason Temple, however, this level of coordinated effort in 1959 would have been impossible. More generally, without spaces such as Mason Temple, major aspects of the Civil Rights Movement likely would have been impossible.
As a new decade began, the politicization of COGIC continued, but first, the denomination suffered a major blow with the death of its beloved founder C. H. Mason, Sr. in 1961. 91 Vitriolic in-fighting over denominational leadership would rage until 1968 when delegates finally elected Mason’s son-in-law, J. O. Patterson, Sr. as Bishop. 92 Denominational divisions represented a sharp departure from the years when C. H. Mason served as Bishop and reflected the growing fragmentation of the African American community in Memphis specifically and the United States more generally. 93
Mason’s death occurred in a national context of increased agitation for civil rights and less consensus regarding the best ways to achieve those rights. Because throughout his life Bishop Mason avoided direct confrontation with the white community, it may seem as if his work had little to do with the Civil Rights Movement. Yet even at the time, the Tri-State Defender saw clearly how important Mason’s ministry, as in his claiming of widely recognized urban space, was for future reforms. The paper offered the following eulogy: “He didn’t speak a lot of ‘words’ about current social problems. But he led a life of some 90-odd years pointing the way he saw as an answer.” 94 In Memphis, his life was commemorated by the largest and longest funeral in the city’s history. 95 Nationally, Bishop Mason’s leadership was further underscored by the telegram President Kennedy sent from Hyannis Port to Mason’s wife expressing his distress upon learning of the Bishop’s death. 96
After his death, Bishop Mason was interned in a prominent crypt in the foyer of Mason Temple (Figure 8), a constant reminder of COGIC’s specifically religious origins. 97 Yet in the years that followed, many speakers with political agendas—both black and white—would pass the Bishop’s body to ascend Mason Temple’s stage. In doing so, they provided a dramatic visual demonstration that although Mason Temple still functioned as a religious space, it was no longer solely a religious space. The political reach of COGIC expanded dramatically in the years after Mason’s death. Throughout the sixties, Convocation rhetoric addressed new political themes such as the Vietnam War and Black Power. 98 Even more significantly, COGIC no longer merely supported politicians; it provided them. In 1967, voters elected Rev. J. O. Patterson, Jr. to the Memphis City Council. Patterson, Jr. was a prominent COGIC minister, son of the future Presiding Bishop, and grandson of C. H. Mason. When J. O. Patterson, Sr. married Bishop Mason’s daughter in 1934, he had ensured that the Patterson family was second only to the Masons in COGIC’s unofficial hierarchy. 99
Bishop Mason’s final resting place in the foyer of Mason Temple.
Following in his father and grandfather’s footsteps, J. O. Patterson, Jr. had entered the ministry. But in an era of increased political access for African Americans, he also enjoyed a series of political victories, winning a seat on the city council, a seat in Tennessee’s House of Representatives, and a term in the State Senate. 100 With Patterson’s victories, COGIC essentially achieved official representation in state and local politics. Soon after his election as city councilman, the political significance of COGIC and spaces such Mason Temple became visible to the entire nation.
In Memphis in 1968, a heated sanitation workers’ strike gave the Civil Rights Movement its powerful slogan, “I AM a Man.” The strike gained momentum when leaders like Martin Luther King, Jr., Roy Wilkins (NAACP President), and the young Jesse Jackson traveled to Memphis to lend their support. 101 As events in Memphis captured national attention, COGIC played an essential role in expanding the strike from a localized labor dispute to a mass movement for civil rights, and it did so by providing the physical space that the labor movement itself lacked. 102
Over the course of the 1968 strike, Mason Temple became a mecca not only for COGIC members, but also for civil rights activists as the building served several important functions during this racially charged dispute. Strikers led marches from City Hall to Mason Temple. Additionally, Mason Temple served as the meeting place where over half of Memphis’ black ministers gathered to form the Community on the Move for Equality (COME), revealing the key role COGIC played in the city’s interdenominational efforts. During the strike, many prominent African Americans also spoke at the building. On March 14, NAACP President Roy Wilkins shared the Mason Temple pulpit with Bayard Rustin of the A. Philip Randolph Institute and addressed a crowd of nearly nine thousand people. On March 28, Rev. C. L. Franklin and his daughter, singer Aretha Franklin, conducted a rally at Mason Temple. 103 The highlights of the strike, however, were Martin Luther King’s invigorating speeches.
On March 18, King addressed a large crowd of between nine thousand and fifteen thousand Memphians at Mason Temple. The crowd’s raucous support energized King, who promised black Memphians that he would return the next month to lead a citywide work stoppage. The excitement at Mason Temple was palpable. Rev. James Lawson attended the event that evening and reported, “Martin was visibly shaken by all this, for this kind of support was unprecedented in the Movement. No one had ever been able to get these numbers out before.” 104 As historian Michael Honey has argued, “This meeting brought together the labor struggle, civil rights, and the black religious tradition of prophetic oratory in a marvelous new convergence.” 105 And significantly, it brought them all together in a religious space that the Saints had constructed long before the modern Civil Rights Movement was even imaginable.
When Martin Luther King, Jr. returned to Memphis in April, he once again stood behind the Mason Temple pulpit. On this night, he delivered his famous “Mountaintop Speech,” which many have considered one of the greatest orations in American history. As he spoke, the crowd continually interrupted Dr. King with vigorous applause, not knowing that this speech would be his last. The next day at the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, King was shot and killed.
In the aftermath of the assassination, Mason Temple assumed increased significance as a dual shrine dedicated to both Reverend King and Bishop Mason. For COGIC members, Mason Temple continued to embody the glorious founding of their denomination, something that was particularly important after the years of in-fighting following Bishop Mason’s death. For the Civil Rights Movement, Mason Temple represented both the zenith and nadir of the struggle, its accomplishments and its failures, its joys and its sorrows. Inevitably, King’s death served as a turning point for the Civil Rights Movement. Given the close connections between COGIC and the Movement, it is not surprising that this tragic event also prompted a shift in COGIC’s appropriation of space.
In the 1970s, amid a newly conservative national mood following the turmoil of the 1960s, COGIC’s political activism would no longer be publicized on the national stage. Rather, the denomination once again altered its spatial goals to fit the needs of the time. In particular, COGIC turned its attention to achieving economic equality as its leaders negotiated with local officials regarding accommodations for its large annual Convocation. Already in Memphis, COGIC had appropriated segregated space in which to worship, “white” space in which to live, and politicized space in which to act. Now, COGIC leaders worked with city officials to claim integrated secular spaces where they could worship and stay.
Space to Stay (1968-2009)
Following King’s death, COGIC once again sought to claim new spaces for African Americans. This time, COGIC sought integrated commercial space to accommodate their annual convention. The sheer size and economic impact of Convocation by this time guaranteed that COGIC would have the support and encouragement of local officials. Convocation’s local impact and COGIC’s spatial capital took on increased significance as more and more whites moved outside the city limits. Suddenly, city leaders were forced to reconceptualize COGIC not merely as an important political factor but also as a driving economic force. 106 Indeed, perhaps more than social respectability or political clout, it was now economic power that secured COGIC’s prominent place in the community.
The local revenue generated by Convocation alone should not be underestimated. Each year, when Saints from across the country gathered in Memphis, they stayed in hotels, ate in restaurants, and regularly purchased high-end luxury goods such as fur coats and even Cadillacs. 107 As one local reporter noted, “Spectacular hats are as much a part of COGIC convocation as prayer and worship.” 108 In fact, for many Memphians, flashily dressed COGIC members served as poster children for conspicuous consumption, seeming to treat each annual religious pilgrimage as a ten-day shopping spree.
Despite criticism from locals about such flamboyance, the Saints’ spending habits provided COGIC leaders with an important bargaining chip as they sought increased access to local hotels and other amenities for Convocation. While such negotiations may seem trivial, this newest struggle to claim space demonstrated COGIC’s increasing realization that it possessed an important resource—economic power—and that this economic power could open the door to increased political power and spatial capital.
For many years, the City of Memphis had bestowed verbal accolades on COGIC, but local officials typically neglected to express their support in more tangible ways. As early as 1958, this fact had led some Saints to suggest moving Convocation to another city, but the denomination’s leaders opposed it. 109 After all, Memphis was COGIC’s “Jerusalem.” As Convocation’s economic impact continued to increase, however, it became clear to all involved that Memphis needed COGIC more than COGIC needed Memphis. Consequently, city leaders began to realize that they would have to offer COGIC incentives to stay in town. In response, both the local business community and the City Council attempted to placate the Church of God in Christ in ways that ultimately resulted in expanded access to space for the denomination.
For instance, COGIC gained access to new spaces as city leaders recognized the dire need for black property development and sought to facilitate it at a time when whites were relocating in great numbers to the suburbs. 110 One example came in 1972 when Robert Snowden, a prominent white Presbyterian businessman, donated the Chisca Plaza Motor Hotel to the Church of God in Christ, thus expanding COGIC’s spatial influence into the downtown business district. 111 When Snowden gave the deed to the $975,000 property to Bishop Patterson, he stated, “I know and trust that the church will use it properly and that it will better serve God.” City Councilman Thomas H. Todd explained, the “reason we picked this particular minister was because we felt this minister and this particular church has done so much for Memphis.” 112 Critics claimed that the “gift” was evidence of COGIC’s backroom dealings with city leaders, but regardless, one thing was clear—COGIC was no longer on the outside of the city’s white power structure looking in. 113 This was not the first time the City Council had honored COGIC. In the past, however, city leaders’ words of praise were not accompanied by million-dollar gifts.
COGIC’s acquisition of the Chisca Plaza Motor Hotel also had great symbolic resonance because the hotel had played an important role in Memphis’ integration history. In 1956, black and white leaders had gathered at Chisca to form a new biracial civic organization, the Good Local Government League. Although black Memphians never held the highest positions in this organization, the event was significant because it was one of the first desegregated gatherings in Memphis’ downtown hotels. 114
Ironically, despite the denomination’s earlier struggles in Glenview and the hotel’s significant interracial history, COGIC converted Chisca from a racially integrated space into a space that was, de facto, segregated. Citing high hotel taxes and renovation expenses, COGIC decided to close the previously integrated Chisca Hotel and use the space as an extension of its National Headquarters.
115
At Chisca, the denomination opened a night school offering high school equivalency courses and an associate’s degree in religion.
116
The building also housed COGIC’s bookstore, dining room, and coffee shop. It even offered a distinctly COGIC version of night life. A newsletter explained,
The only sanctified nightclub in America is the scene in the basement dining area, where Janet Patterson Davis is seen serving at the counter. And during the evening musical period, Sarah Jordan Powell supplies the music in this blue light night club setting, serving drinks not stronger than coca-cola, to the tune of “Just Come to Praise the Lord.”
117
At Chisca, in a dramatic reversal of events, COGIC turned integrated, secular space into black, religious space—the opposite of the course it had pursued at Mason Temple.
At the same time, the procurement of Chisca Plaza significantly increased COGIC’s physical footprint on Memphis’ landscape. This impact was bolstered in 1976 when COGIC approved plans to build a $20 million “Downtown Saints Center” at Chisca. 118 Bishop Patterson’s focus on the Saints Center led some COGIC members to accuse him of merely wanting to build a shrine to himself. The denominational controversies over Saints Center—the type of controversies that Bishop Mason never faced while building Mason Temple—ultimately undermined COGIC’s ability to quickly and effectively transform this urban space, and the Saints Center never fully fulfilled Patterson’s expectations. Regardless of the denominational strife it caused, however, city officials were thrilled by the fact that the denomination would be infusing millions of dollars into a dilapidated downtown area. 119
As COGIC’s local economic and spatial influence expanded, the city also expressed an increased willingness to work with the denomination on Convocation issues. For example, in 1975, Mayor Walter Chandler organized an official task force solely to respond to COGIC complaints. As a result, improved amenities for Convocation included: a shuttle bus service provided by local businessmen, a welcome booth at the airport for delegates, the services of a Holiday Inn executive to help with motel reservations, and a 10 percent discount for all delegates at participating hotels. 120
Despite these changes, the Saints argued that Memphis still lacked the hotel rooms they needed for the convention and that officials had led them to believe that all local hotels would offer discounts to COGIC delegates (a survey revealed that 62 percent of hotels/motels provided discounts). 121 Consequently, throughout the 1970s, the Saints threatened to relocate Convocation and city officials were undoubtedly relieved that they did not do so. 122 As a 1976 newspaper headline put bluntly: “Convention Means Cash for City.” 123 Despite the ongoing complaints, city officials continually promised to alleviate the problems. 124
At the same time, COGIC confronted another spatial issue. Mason Temple was too small for many Convocation events so COGIC began renting Memphis’ “Coliseum” and large Cook Convention Center—something that would not have been an option in the era of segregation (Figure 9). With Mason Temple, COGIC had turned religious space into secular, political space. Now, with Chisca Plaza, the Coliseum, and the Cook Convention Center, they converted secular, civic space into sacred space. Yet by 1978, even this building was not large enough and delegates overflowed the main floor of the Cook Convention Center. 125
Fourteen thousand delegates attend Convocation at the Mid-South Coliseum in 1975.
The true significance of these events, however, transcended hotel rooms, airport shuttles, and massive convention spaces. As the city and COGIC tried to resolve the denomination’s spatial needs, a shift occurred: COGIC now had the upper hand. As one scholar explained in 1975:
Although there is no strong social or political platform from which [COGIC] currently acts, a great deal of deference is afforded by its presence and potential in the city of Memphis and other large urban areas. The growing power and influence of the Church of God in Christ in religious, as well as social and political affairs, is clearly evident. The Presiding Bishop of this body, J. O. Patterson, has been consistently recognized in recent years as one of the most influential black persons in America.
126
Although COGIC had previously sought city officials’ approval, it was now the city’s turn to ask COGIC for help.
For example, the City of Memphis asked COGIC to support its urban renewal efforts. The Chisca Plaza site served as a crucial link in maintaining a coherent business district—and no white institution in Memphis could offer the kind of downtown revitalization that COGIC’s investment would facilitate. In another part of the city, Mason Temple continued to anchor an entire neighborhood at a time when racial tensions were undermining a sense of community in many local areas. 127 Whereas African Americans had typically been the likely victims of urban renewal, Memphis now depended on its black religious communities to serve as the agents of urban renewal at a time when commercial investments increasingly flowed to surrounding suburbs.
The City of Memphis also asked COGIC to keep Convocation in Memphis. Persistent white flight throughout the seventies and eighties undermined Memphis’ tax base and rendered the revenue generated by COGIC’s convention all the more significant. This economic reality increased city officials’ fears that COGIC would move their convention and take millions in annual revenue with it.
128
City officials courted COGIC in unprecedented ways, even reorienting city streets to facilitate traffic flow at Convocation (Figure 10).
129
In 1979, mayoral candidate Otis Higgs begged COGIC to stay. He stated:
I will apologize to you for the discourtesies you’ve suffered. But you must keep your history in Memphis. We are grateful to you for being here. When you build Saints Center in this sagging city we call Memphis, you’re going to be a significant part of our revitalization efforts. I pledge my undying support to you. In fact, come back next year, and you’ll find that I’m going to lay out the red carpet for the Saints.
130
In a testament to the city’s cooperation with Church of God in Christ (COGIC), every year, the city changed Mason and Willoughby Streets (around Mason Temple) to one-way streets during Convocation.
In many ways, the tables had turned. In a city where African Americans increasingly composed a larger percentage of the population, COGIC’s spatial and economic power also expanded, and once again, so did its political power.
In 1982, Mayor Wyeth Chandler resigned. By this time, Rev. J. O. Patterson, Jr. was Chairman of the Memphis City Council. As Chairman, Patterson was appointed interim mayor, making him the city’s first African American mayor. Shortly thereafter, a special election resulted in a runoff between Patterson and white candidate Dick Hackett.
The runoff election was fast approaching in November when the Saints gathered in Memphis. Bishop Patterson quickly turned Convocation into a fundraiser for his son and made the conflation between religious and political space at Mason Temple more explicit than ever.
131
As envelopes labeled “C.O.G.I.C. Committee to Elect J. O. Patterson Jr.” circulated, Bishop C. D. Owens of New Jersey told COGIC delegates that the minimum donation was $10 and demanded, “Everybody in this building will give in this official offering.” Bishop Patterson, Sr. then explained that the church could not give money to a political campaign but individual members could. He continued,
My son is in what is called a runoff. That is, he and a white gentleman are competing for the office of mayor. Both, I feel, are qualified. Even though they both are qualified, I feel that the conscience of Memphis ought to honor a black man for the office of mayor. After all, we have honored white candidates for the past 200 years.
132
Despite COGIC’s efforts, Patterson’s opponent Dick Hackett won the election.
Conclusion
In 1990, W. W. Herenton became Memphis’ first elected African American mayor. After his election, black political leadership in the city continued to expand. The City Council secured a black majority, and Shelby County (the county in which Memphis is located) elected a black mayor. Yet, increases in black political power were not enough to solve Memphis’ socioeconomic problems.
In her book, Race, Power, and Political Emergence in Memphis, political scientist Sharon D. Wright explains the paradox of black political power. Wright correctly argues that the 1990 election of Herenton “not only represented the political emergence of black voters, but the beginning of a new, majority black governing coalition as well.” She continues, however, “The task that remains for black Memphis is to translate its political power into economic power. If not, they will inherit a city which consists of mostly poor and working class residents with few options for economic sustainability and growth.” 133 Wright’s ambivalence is clear. Spatial gains were a clear precondition for civil rights, but if the spaces claimed lost their vitality and monetary value, the achievements of the Civil Rights Movement would be severely diluted.
Just as the reconfiguration of urban space had initially bolstered the achievements of the Civil Rights Movement, the decline of urban space consistently undermined those achievements. This paradox lay behind one of the era’s key statements on civil rights, urban renewal, and racial understanding. President Bill Clinton’s famed “Memphis Speech” of 1993 addressed the nation, but captured the mixed legacy of the Civil Rights Movement in Memphis as well. Significantly, this important address was delivered in Mason Temple during COGIC’s annual Convocation. From the same pulpit that Martin Luther King, Jr. filled the night before his death, President Clinton addressed COGIC delegates saying:
If Martin Luther King were to reappear by my side today and give us a report card on the last 25 years, what would he say? “You did a good job,” he would say, “voting for and electing people who formerly were not electable because of the color of their skin.” He would say, “You have more political power and that is good.” “You did a good job,” he would say, “Letting people who have the ability to do so live wherever they want to live, go wherever they want to go in this great country. . . .” “But,” he would say, “I did not live and die to see the American family destroyed . . . ” “I fought for freedom,” he would say, “but not for the freedom of people to kill each other with reckless abandon, not for the freedom of children to impregnate each other with babies and then abandon them, nor for the freedom of adult fathers of children to walk away from the children they created and abandon them, as if they did not amount to anything.”
Clinton then vowed to the COGIC delegation that the federal government would play a role in helping solve problems in black communities. Yet Clinton continued, “Sometimes there are no answers from the outside in. Sometimes, the answers have to come from the values and the love and the stirrings and the voices that speak to us within. Here, you as the respected leaders and ministers of your faith, play a crucial role.” 134 As Clinton spoke in this prominent sacred space, he called upon COGIC delegates to recognize the limitations of political power and the necessity of the continued involvement of religious organizations in urban areas in fulfilling the aspirations of the Civil Rights Movement (Figure 11).
President Clinton greets Bishop Mason’s widow outside Mason Temple in 1993.
In the years that followed Clinton’s speech, however, the Church of God in Christ’s leadership became less Memphis-based, particularly following the deaths of COGIC bishops J. O. Patterson, Sr. and G. E. Patterson. In 2008, Charles Blake of Los Angeles was elected COGIC’s presiding bishop, further weakening Memphis’ role as COGIC’s Jerusalem. In 2009, COGIC announced that it would move its Convocation to St. Louis the following year and take $35 million in annual revenue with it, leaving the spatial, religious legacy of the Civil Rights Movement in Memphis to be written largely by others. 135 At the same time, other local religious groups continue to define Memphis’ racial milieu by gaining spatial capital. Today, however, the challenge for Memphis’ African American community is no longer claiming space, but revitalizing it. Once again, religious organizations are playing a key role in these spatial efforts. For example, the World Overcomers Outreach Ministries Church has recently assumed a high profile within the community. While this church does not host an annual convention that brings millions of dollars in revenue to the city, it has played a significant role in reinvigorating urban space.
World Overcomers stands as a community anchor in a part of town that is usually associated with urban decline, a neighborhood characterized by “colorful title loan shops, ethnic restaurants, and abandoned big-box outlets.” 136 In a familiar pattern, World Overcomers occupies the former home of a predominantly white megachurch that followed its congregation to Memphis’ eastern suburbs. The church initially gained local notoriety after the controversial installation of a 72-foot tall reinterpretation of the Statue of Liberty holding the cross and the Ten Commandments at the corner of a busy Memphis intersection (Figure 12).
“The Statue of Liberation Through Christ” at World Overcomers Outreach Ministries Memphis, Tennessee.
More recently, the church’s spatial impact expanded beyond its campus when World Overcomers purchased the Hickory Ridge Mall, a vacant megamall near their church. In an abandoned space that represented the epitome of urban blight, World Overcomers has launched a plan to revitalize the area by filling the mall with retail and community service operations such as a Christian singles club, prenatal care, employment services, adult education, a 1,500-seat banquet hall, and a family entertainment center. 137 Through its spatial efforts, World Overcomers is continuing a tradition that carried out for many years in Memphis by COGIC and making its own contributions to the “Long Civil Rights Movement.”
Ultimately, when the history of the Civil Rights Movement is viewed from the angle of the urban spaces that contributed to it, the political implications of all urban spaces become increasingly evident. A full consideration of physical space as a key component in the history of the Civil Rights Movement reveals not only the inevitable politicization of urban spaces, but also the ways in which those spaces served as a catalyst for the politicization of disenfranchised groups of people. Although COGIC will no longer play the prominent role in the city of Memphis that it once did, other religious organizations continue to redefine the complex relationship between religion and space in ways that alter the city around them. World Overcomers’ recent activities testify to the continued dynamics of race, religion, and the urban landscape in relation to each other—and, perhaps most significantly, the enduring importance of urban space in the quest for equality.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
The author would like to express sincere thanks to Mark Noll at the University of Notre Dame, Carroll Van West and the Center for Historic Preservation at Middle Tennessee State University, Ed Frank and the University of Memphis Special Collections Department, and G. Wayne Dowdy and Memphis Public Library and Information Center for their assistance in the completion of this article.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.