By Jerry Urso JWJ Branch of ASALH

By the time the Brownsville Affair erupted in 1906, J. Douglas Wetmore was already recognized nationally as one of the most formidable African American constitutional lawyers of his generation. His reputation was not built on theory or quiet negotiation, but on direct legal confrontation with Jim Crow—first in Florida, then on a national stage. From Jacksonville to New York, Wetmore was known among Black civic leaders, editors, and ministers as a lawyer willing to test segregation in court and to challenge the federal government itself when constitutional protections failed to apply equally to Black citizens [1][2].

 

Years before Brownsville placed him in direct opposition to President Theodore Roosevelt, Wetmore had already secured a landmark victory in Jacksonville’s segregated streetcar struggle, successfully challenging the enforcement of Florida’s streetcar segregation statute, commonly known as the Avery Law. That legal challenge, which emerged alongside organized Black resistance and boycott tactics, marked the first successful defeat of a segregated streetcar regime in Jacksonville, setting a precedent that segregation in public transportation could be contested and broken through coordinated legal action [3][4]. Black newspapers at the time treated the decision as a breakthrough, recognizing that Jim Crow, often portrayed as immovable, had been forced to retreat under constitutional scrutiny.

 

By 1906, Wetmore’s standing extended far beyond Florida. He was active within national Black political organizations, including the Afro-American Council, corresponded with W. E. B. Du Bois, and maintained professional and personal ties with James Weldon Johnson, whose later literary work reflected the racial ambiguities Wetmore himself navigated in law and public life [5][6]. This national stature explains why, when Black soldiers were accused in Brownsville, Wetmore’s involvement immediately drew attention in both the Black and white press.

 

Brownsville: Accusation Without Due Process

 

The events in Brownsville, Texas, unfolded with alarming speed. On the night of August 13, 1906, a white bartender, Frank Natus, was killed and a white police officer wounded by gunfire. Almost immediately, white residents accused Black soldiers of the 25th Infantry Regiment, stationed at nearby Fort Brown. Yet from the outset, the case was riddled with contradictions. White officers commanding the regiment confirmed that the soldiers were in their barracks under orders at the time of the shooting. No eyewitness identified any soldier as a shooter, and no civil court returned indictments [7][8].

 

Newspaper accounts soon highlighted suspicious developments. Spent rifle cartridges allegedly tied to Army-issued weapons were “discovered” only after accusations had hardened, and they were found clustered in patterns inconsistent with actual rifle fire. At the same time, both civilians and military personnel reported hearing pistol shots—weapons that soldiers could not access, as pistols were secured under lock and key in the post armory [9][10]. Despite these contradictions, the version of events advanced by Brownsville’s white civic leadership was accepted by federal authorities.

 

On November 5, 1906, President Theodore Roosevelt issued Special Order No. 266, dishonorably discharging 167 Black soldiers of Companies B, C, and D of the 25th Infantry without trial. The order stripped them of pensions, barred them permanently from federal employment, and denied them any formal hearing. Roosevelt justified the action by accusing the soldiers of a “conspiracy of silence,” despite the absence of sworn testimony establishing individual guilt [11][12].

 

Wetmore Takes Up the Defense

 

The response from the Black press was immediate and fierce. Editorials framed Roosevelt’s order not as discipline, but as collective punishment without due process, warning that if Black soldiers in uniform could be deprived of constitutional protections, then Black citizenship itself was precarious [13].

 

It was at this moment that J. Douglas Wetmore entered the Brownsville struggle publicly. Contemporary newspapers reported that Wetmore, acting alongside attorney Alexander S. Bacon, had been retained by the Afro-American Council to pursue legal and congressional remedies for the discharged soldiers [14]. His involvement transformed the affair from a closed military action into a national constitutional controversy.

 

Wetmore’s strategy was direct. He argued that the president and secretary of war had exceeded their authority by imposing punishment without courts-martial, and he announced his intention to seek legislation to prevent future discharges without trial. He also committed himself to pursuing reinstatement and restoration of rights for the discharged men. These positions were reported widely in Black newspapers, which emphasized that the soldiers themselves had been denied interviews, denied sworn testimony, and denied any meaningful opportunity to defend themselves [15].

 

Silenced Soldiers and Manufactured Guilt

 

A central theme in press coverage—and in Wetmore’s critique—was the systematic silencing of the soldiers. Many were dispersed immediately after discharge. Others were discouraged from speaking publicly. Investigations relied heavily on civilian accusations while discounting military testimony that contradicted the official narrative. The “conspiracy of silence” cited by Roosevelt, Wetmore argued, was a fiction produced by a process that never seriously sought soldier testimony in the first place [16].

 

This critique resonated beyond Brownsville. Newspapers warned that the case set a dangerous precedent: if Black soldiers could be punished without hearing or trial, the constitutional protections of Black civilians were equally vulnerable [17].

 

Challenging Roosevelt—and Dividing Black Leadership

 

Wetmore’s public rebuke of Roosevelt was unusual and consequential. Unlike leaders who favored private negotiation, Wetmore insisted on public accountability and constitutional clarity. His stance placed him at odds with Booker T. Washington, who sought quiet reconsideration of the president’s decision and feared that open confrontation would provoke political backlash [18].

 

This disagreement reflected a broader strategic divide within Black leadership rather than personal hostility. Newspapers documented the tension, noting that Washington was critical of Wetmore’s confrontational approach, while Wetmore remained firm that constitutional rights could not depend on presidential discretion [19].

 

Congressional Struggle and Delayed Justice

 

Public pressure eventually forced congressional intervention. From 1907 to 1908, the Senate Committee on Military Affairs investigated the Brownsville Affair. While the majority initially upheld Roosevelt’s decision, Senator Joseph B. Foraker filed a powerful minority report concluding that the evidence was insufficient and the punishment unjust—arguments long advanced by Wetmore and the Black press [20][21].

 

Although only limited reinstatements followed, Wetmore’s challenge helped ensure that the case remained in the national record. Decades later, renewed investigation would confirm what he had argued from the beginning: the soldiers were innocent, and justice had been denied [22].

 

No Ill Will Toward Washington

 

Despite the political rift with Booker T. Washington, Wetmore bore no personal animosity. After Washington was violently assaulted in New York, Wetmore wrote to express genuine concern for his well-being and offered his legal services if needed. Newspapers treated the gesture quietly, but it underscored that the disagreement between the two men had always been strategic, not personal [23].

 

Conclusion

 

The Brownsville Affair stands as one of the most consequential racial injustices of the early twentieth century—not only because of what was done, but because of who resisted it. Through newspapers, courtrooms, and congressional debate, J. Douglas Wetmore emerges as a central figure: a lawyer whose early victories against segregation gave him the standing to confront a president, and whose insistence on due process anticipated conclusions that would not be officially acknowledged until the 1970s.

 

Wetmore did not live to see full justice for the Brownsville soldiers. But the historical record—preserved in Black newspapers, Senate documents, and later investigations—confirms that he was right when it mattered most. His role in Brownsville belongs not at the margins of history, but at its constitutional center.

 

References

 

[1] The New York Age, Apr. 26, 1906, p. 1.

[2] The New York Age, Nov. 15, 1906, p. 2.

[3] Levine, Shira. “To Maintain Our Self-Respect”: The Jacksonville Challenge to Segregated Street Cars, 1900–1906.

[4] The Richmond Planet, coverage of Wetmore’s Jacksonville litigation.

[5] Letter from J. Douglas Wetmore to W. E. B. Du Bois, Oct. 20, 1903.

[6] Johnson, James Weldon. The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man.

[7] The Bamberg Herald, Nov. 22, 1906.

[8] Wormser, Richard. “The Brownsville Affair (1906).” PBS.

[9] Lembeck, Harry. Taking on Theodore Roosevelt, p. 90.

[10] Schubert, Frank N. “The 25th Infantry at Brownsville,” Journal of Military History.

[11] Congressional Record, 1906–1907.

[12] Special Order No. 266, War Department, Nov. 9, 1906.

[13] The New York Age, editorials, Nov.–Dec. 1906.

[14] The Bamberg Herald, Nov. 22, 1906.

[15] Afro-American Council statements, 1906.

[16] Senate Military Affairs Committee hearings, 1908.

[17] Black press commentary nationwide, 1906–1907.

[18] Booker T. Washington Papers, Vol. 11.

[19] Du Bois, W. E. B., The Crisis, 1908.

[20] Senate Report No. 2248, 1908.

[21] Foraker, Joseph B., Notes of a Busy Life, Vol. II.

[22] Weaver, John D. The Brownsville Raid.

[23] The New York Age, correspondence and notices, post-assault on Washington.