8 Days in November: How the AME Church Represented Black America at the 1876 Centennial Celebration

(On the left: Bust of Bishop Richard Allen; Above: Bishop Richard Franklin Norris, along with Dr. Susanna Gold and ph.d. candidate Rob Armstrong, stands on the site where the Bishop Allen bust was dedicated in 1876.)

In 1876, the United States of America threw a 6 month party to celebrate 100 years of nationhood. The Centennial, held at Fairmount Park in Philadelphia, opened on May 10 and closed on November 10. Intended to display before the world America's great diversity, black Americans were conspicuously absent and silent.

When Frederick Douglass, for example, showed up for the opening ceremony in May to take his place on the main stage, he was not allowed to address the enormous crowd. In fact, he almost was not allowed on the stage. Although he possessed valid credentials, Philly's "finest" refused to let him pass. It took the intervention of a U.S. senator from New York to get America's most famous black man to his seat. So rather than wait for someone to offer a seat at the table, the AME Church took its' own seat.

Determined to have a black presence at the Centennial, members of the Arkansas Annual Conference devised a plan to erect a monument in honor of AME founder, Bishop Richard Allen. Under the leadership of Revs. John T. Jenifer and Andrew J. Chambers, $7,000 was raised to commission a stunning, 22' high, imported Italian marble sculpture that would hold a bust of Bishop Allen. Every map of the Centennial that has survived includes the Bishop Allen Monument, making it the the only exhibit set up by, about, and expressly on behalf of black Americans.

The monument as intended, however, was not to be. Continually met by delays, setbacks, and ultimately disaster, it seemed as though it was destined never to make it to the exposition. Scheduled for unveiling in Philadelphia on the 4th of July, the sculptor did not deliver on his promise. The committee was forced to push the full dedication back to September, but soon met a new challenge. As the monument was shipped from Cincinnati, the train that transported it encountered some type of accident crossing the Susquehanna River in Pennsylvania. The entire 22 foot high, elaborate monument, with the exception of the bust of Bishop Allen, was destroyed in the accident.

Feeling somewhat defeated, the committee purchased a plain 9' granite pedestal shaped like a pyramid and placed the bust of Bishop Allen on top of it. To add insult to injury, the guest speaker for the dedication on November 2, never arrived. Remarks were given by Bishop John M. Brown and the Richard Allen Monument was dedicated. Being on display for only 8 days in the 6 month long Centennial, it must have seemed that all the effort was simply in vain.

But that would miss the larger point. Remember, there was a concentrated effort to stifle the voice of dissent and the voice of the oppressed. But the monument offered an opportunity for the AME Church to say on behalf of others, that which could not be said on the main stage.

J.T. Jenifer at the first dedication of the monument's base in June, delivered a sermon that the organizers of the Centennial surely did not want the world to hear. According to Jenifer, the "outrages and murders committed upon us are the fruits of wanton prejudice, hatred, and hellish passion, suffered to satiate itself under the weakness of the Government upon the plea of State rights." Unlike most speech by black Americans of his day, the words were not relegated to the pages of the black press. This speech was reprinted in its entirety in the pages of the widely read Philadelphia Press for all the world to see.

In closing his address, however, Jenifer did not look back to the pain of the past or on the struggles of the present. Rather, he looked forward with hope to future generations imagining the world 100 years later:

"We are here today before the eyes of all nations to show our appreciation of the American Centennial. We shall not be here the next national anniversary, but our children will be. They will not come as we have come, but they will come greater--come with their productions. They will come in their arts, their science, their literature, and in their philosophy, in all of which they shall excel. Color lines will then be wiped out, caste will be gone; the American citizen, white or black, will be honored and loved, and mind and moral excellence will be the measure of the man."

But the period of hope that Jenifer spoke of in his speech would have to wait, at least for a little while.

Following the end of the expo, the monument committee asked the Fairmount Park Commission to allow the bust to remain in the park as a lasting tribute (like the Catholics and others were allowed to do), but they were denied. Within a few weeks, the monument was taken down and placed at Wilberforce University.

The symbolism of Bishop Allen being "put out" of the park was fitting for the times, for a few months later the period of Reconstruction had come to an end. The clock was rolled back on blacks in America, Jim Crow laws became the rule of the land, civil rights were revoked, voting rights were denied, blacks were run out of elected office, and the greatest period of terror on free black men began as lynchings became common and widespread.

The dream of Jenifer may have been delayed, but it was not to be denied. 100 plus years later, we are the evidence that all things are possible with God. We sit today as the fruit of his dream. There are still giants to face and mountains to climb, but in the words of the black church, "we may not be where we want to be, but thank God, we're not where we used to be!"