In this flawed but fascinating study, Graham, a black attorney and author of “Our Kind of People,” a best-seller about the black upper class, tells the story of three generations of the Bruce family. It is a poignant tale of struggle, accomplishment, and weakness – and an illuminating account of American racism.
Graham’s cast of characters begins with Bruce and his wife Josephine, the Senator and Socialite of the book’s title. Born a slave in Virginia in 1841, the son of his owner, Bruce escaped during the Civil War, studied at Oberlin College, and made his way to Mississippi, where he rose quickly in politics and purchased a plantation. His beautiful, light-skinned wife, whom he married in 1878, came from the North’s tiny black upper class. After his Senate term expired, Bruce remained in Washington, where he held lucrative patronage posts, acquired a large townhouse and summer home, and presided over black high society.
The second generation of Bruces enjoyed privileged lives far removed from those of
Graham does not shy from describing the costs of these accomplishments, among them the Bruces’ complete dissociation from the rest of black America. On the Bruce plantation in Mississippi, black sharecroppers lived in “flimsy wooden shacks” (113) and labored in the same oppressive conditions as on white-owned estates. Roscoe Bruce, Sr. found the exuberant mode of worship of lower-class Tuskegee students “disgusting.” (220)
That Roscoe Bruce worked at Tuskegee is not coincidental, for the family shared its founder Booker T. Washington’s philosophy of accommodation and his reliance on connections with wealthy white patrons. Blanche Bruce said little in the Senate as white violence stripped his people of their rights. While attending Harvard, his son spied for Washington on Boston’s “anti-Bookerite” black radicals. Even though he had received an elite academic education, Roscoe Bruce tried to introduce Washington’s philosophy of industrial training in the District of Columbia’s black schools, causing an uproar among black parents proud of their children’s educational attainments. When a scandal erupted because Bruce allowed a white man to take nude photographs of black high school students, allegedly as part of a study of physical differences between the races, he was forced to resign.
Only when it came to their own family did the Bruces turn militant. In 1923, Harvard President A. Lawrence Lowell barred the college’s six black freshmen, including Roscoe, Jr., from living in freshman dormitories. Roscoe, Sr. organized a national campaign that forced Lowell to rescind his order.
An indefatigable researcher in primary sources, Graham sometimes seems unaware of current scholarship. The opening chapters present a confusing picture of Reconstruction politics because Graham uses the word “liberal” in its modern sense of racial egalitarianism rather than its nineteenth-century meaning of belief in limited government and laissez-faire economics. (2, 41, 56, 58) Contrary to his account, those who called themselves liberal Republicans opposed Reconstruction.
Nonetheless, “The Senator and the Socialite” offers a compelling portrait of the family’s rise, inner dynamics, and downfall. In 1936, Roscoe, Sr. lost his job when Rockefeller sold the Dunbar apartments. His children lacked the drive and self-discipline of their forbears. The younger Clara failed to complete her studies at Radcliffe and eloped with a black actor. Roscoe, Jr., embezzled money from an apartment complex he managed in New Jersey and then arranged a phony burglary to explain the absence of funds. He served eighteen months in prison. The legal costs bankrupted the family.
Problems in the third generation of privileged families are standard grist for gossip columnists. But the black elite faced greater obstacles to recovery and had fewer resources and connections to fall back on than their white counterparts. No New York law firm would hire a black female attorney like Clara Bruce. In their hour of need, the elite whites the Bruces had cultivated for decades abandoned them, refusing repeated requests for assistance. Roscoe, Sr. and his wife were reduced to living for a time on welfare. Many of their relatives, including the younger Clara and her actor husband, avoided racism by passing for white. Today, Graham reports, most descendants of Senator Bruce live as white persons – an ironic but in some ways understandable end to a black dynasty to which Jim Crow America never truly offered a secure place.