This Black ‘special officer’ shows how Jim Crow played out in Fort Worth law enforcement

Jim Crow was shorthand for the system of racial segregation that existed in the United States from the late-19th century through mid-20th century. It was legal at the time under the pretense of “separate but equal” constitutional law.

It was Jim Crow that produced seating for Black people in the back of streetcars and buses and separate drinking fountains in department stores.

But the Jim Crow color line began with the police force refusing to hire Black officers. Someone had to uphold law and order on a daily basis in the Black community, and that job fell to a few Black men hired as “special officers” with the understanding that their authority extended only to their own race. They could not stop, detain, or even question white people for any reason.

They were also not paid like white officers and were not welcome at Fort Worth city hall. Most Black special officers worked as “security” at saloons that catered to Black people or patrolled Frederick Douglass Park, a privately owned park just across the Trinity River from the Courthouse.

Edward Loving was the first Black special officer in Fort Worth, hired to patrol Douglass Park in 1896. His authority came from the Fort Worth Police Department, but his salary was picked up Hiram McGar, a Black businessman who owned a saloon and a Negro League baseball team. Loving was followed by Dick Burns in 1897 and Jeff Daggett in 1906. Daggett did not follow the rules of that time. He tried to stop and question a couple of white men one night and got a savage beating for his trouble.

Being a Douglass Park policeman was a thankless job, unpopular to both Black people and white people. Still, Dick Burns did his job. On the night of Sept. 18, 1900, “Deputy Burns,” as the newspaper called him, arrested a visitor from Houston who was in the park with an unlawful pistol. Then on the night of July 16, 1902, he made another arrest on his beat for the same reason. On both occasions he took his collars to the police station for booking.

Unlawful carrying was one of those laws enforced against Black people but not against white people as a rule, like vagrancy. In both cases the accused had to appear in police court the next morning and pay a fine or be sent to the chain gang to work it off.

Because the position of special officer was not a well-paying job and didn’t have any prospects of long-term employment, Dick Burns did other things. He was part of a minstrel act performing the “cake walk” in shows in a saloon that catered to Black people in Hell’s Half-acre, which was Fort Worth’s notorious red-light district. One night, customer Earnest Jasper had a little too much to drink and assaulted Burns. White police officers were called and hauled Jasper away. The district court found him guilty as charged and fined him $10 – an indication of the value the white justice system placed on a Black man’s life.

Burns also worked as the “porter” (a combination or janitor and “gofer”) at the Eagle Saloon, corner of Twelfth and Rusk. One night, after taking drinks to a couple in the back room, the man asked him to take the woman home and return his buggy to the stable. As the woman was white and inebriated and looked beat up, Burns refused. Instead, he had the bartender call the police and let them sort it out.

When he wasn’t working, Burns found time to be a member of the Progressive Social Club, which met regularly at Ninth and Houston. He wasn’t just a member, he was a “director” of the club. In the early 20th century being “progressive” meant being liberal in both social and political matters, which would have put him in opposition to Jim Crow practices, a risky position to take.

In 1905, Burns’ arrangement with the Fort Worth Police Department came to an end. Detectives arrested him and charged him with “receiving stolen property.” That earned him a trip to County Court, where the judge recognized his past service and spotless record by fining him only $10 and sentencing him to one day in jail. But his commission as a special officer was yanked.

He could no longer legally wear a badge and carry a pistol. But Burns landed on his feet. He took over the Black Elephant saloon, a notorious “drunkery and gambling den” for Black people, according to the newspaper. Located on Rusk (Commerce) between Thirteenth and Fourteenth, it was well known to police as “one of the vilest dens” in the Acre. Besides a bar and tables, it had a tiny stage where musicians tickled the ivories and “scraped the fiddles” nightly. There were also working girls hanging around whose favors could be purchased for a price.

It is doubtful the Black Elephant was any worse than any of the other saloons in the Acre, specifically another African-American dive called The Bucket of Blood. But police paid special attention to the Black Elephant when they launched a crackdown on the Acre in January 1907.

Burns informed Chief James Maddox, who was no racial progressive, that he was closing the place down, and it would “forever remain out of business.” Burns knew better than to buck the system.

After his arrest on stolen property charges, whatever juice Burns once had with the police department was gone. The former special officer/saloon man subsequently dropped out of sight, suggesting that he left town to make a fresh start, perhaps in Dallas or Houston.

Author-historian Richard Selcer is a Fort Worth native and proud graduate of Paschal High and TCU.