DU BOIS, JUNETEENTH AND THE SOUL OF AMERICA

At the dawn of the century, 123 years ago, W. E. B. Du Bois published a remarkable book, titled The Souls of Black Folk. Drawing back the veil that separated black and white Americans, he portrayed in lyrical prose a people of separate and unequal status.

Born in Great Barrington, Massachusetts, just three years after the Civil War, Du Bois studied at Fisk University, then became the first African American to earn a doctorate at Harvard. Sociologist, teacher, activist and author, he fought a resurgent racism that relegated African Americans to the lowest rung of society, denied them voting, and terrorized them with violence.

In his introduction, Du Bois wrote: “The problem of the Twentieth Century is the problem of the color-line.”  I submit that it is still true today.

W. E. B. Du Bois

Tomorrow, as we celebrate Juneteenth, the day enslaved folk in Texas finally learned they were free, we must look again at race as the defining marker in President Trump’s campaign to remove millions of black and brown people from America.

In the 21st century, as in Du Bois’ time, we are witness to the orchestrated dehumanization of people of color. Consider the slander coming out of the White House against Haitians, Mexicans and Somalis. Consider the targeting of minority officials, judges and politicians. Consider the redistricting of voting maps to exclude African Americans.

Consider the daily arrests of our immigrant neighbors—the vast majority who are black or brown. Taken from their families, they are flown to detention prisons to await deportation.

The Brookings Institute reports that in Trump’s second term, well over 100,000 children have been separated from their parents. (Remember the outcry in 2018 when about 5,500 children were removed from their parents?)

There are now some 70,000 immigrants held in 371 detention centers in the United States, and the Trump administration wants more. An estimated 290,000 have already been flown to other countries, the most going to Mexico. But not all are sent to their countries of origin. The New York Times reports plans to send 1,100 Afghan refugees, who aided the United States during the war, to the Congo.

At the same time President Trump has opened the door to 10,000 white South Africans to re-settle in America.

Some 13 million of our neighbors are still vulnerable to deportation, either because they are undocumented or have had their temporary protective status (TPS) removed. Besides revoking their TPS, Trump is now targeting immigrants applying for Green Cards. He is also targeting Dreamers, young adults who came here as small children. As he said in his campaign rallies, he wants them all gone.

A detainee’s wife holds a photo of her husband, held in detention in New Jersey, and their two children.

Under the guise of immigration enforcement, the federal government is waging what can only be described as ethnic cleansing, the term used when a country systematically attempts to remove residents of a certain race, ethnicity or religion. This is a crime.

In his landmark book, Du Bois hoped white folk would come to know black folk, that they would take to heart their essential humanity and intrinsic value as full members of the American community. The same is true about the millions of immigrants, the majority black and brown, who want nothing more than freedom to live in safety, raise their families, work and be a part of the American dream.

America needs immigrants, families, hard workers, builders, care providers, entrepreneurs. But more than that, we need to know the Soul of Immigrants and affirm their humanity. As in 1903, America needs a change of heart.

Happy Juneteenth, Mr. Cephas

June 19, 2025

Dear Mr. Cephas,

You came north after the Civil War, a Black man from Norfolk, Virginia, looking for a place to work and raise a family. You chose us, Stoneham, Massachusetts, a shoe-factory town of about 3,500 people just north of Boston.

I could find no record confirming you were enslaved in Virginia. The fact that you couldn’t read or write suggests you were. What is on record is that in 1864, one year after the Emancipation Proclamation, you enlisted in the Union Navy and served aboard the USS Ohio until the war was over. The Ohio was used to blockade Confederate ships along the Carolinas and in Europe.

The USS Ohio

In 1867, two years later, your name comes up in the vital records of Stoneham. On August 13 you appeared before the Justice of the Peace in Stoneham with your bride, Sarah Cecelia Hill, from Brooklyn. You were 23 and she was 18. With her you would raise five children, three sons and two daughters.

Cabinet card portraits of African Americans from the David V. Tinder Collection of Michigan Photography. Left: Man with Pipe, circa 1887. Right: Woman in Silk Dress, circa 1888. William L. Clements Library

I don’t know if you were tall or short. I do know you were strong. I found this ad in an old Stoneham Independent: “The services of Charles Cephas stone mason can now be had. He tends to laying pipes, sinking wells, digging cesspools and blasting. ‘He thoroughly understands his business.’”

Remember that summer when people were praying for rain, you made the news when you dug and lined a 35-foot-deep well, a record in Woburn.

Business must have been good, because in 1876 you bought a house on Hancock Street, then moved it over to Albion Avenue on the northwest side of town.

Lining a hand-dug well

For you and the few other African American families, Stoneham was a good place to put down roots. But the soil was rocky, in more ways than one. Getting along in an overwhelmingly white community sometimes meant conflict. Sometimes you were the target. In 1878, as reported in the Independent, five men attacked and beat you and your friend Thomas Shanks.

Another time, when you were walking by the Cogan and Sons shoe factory, from the upstairs window, someone dumped a bucket of white wash on your head. Furious, you stormed into the building demanding to know who the culprit was.

You raised such a fuss that the police were called. But instead of helping to find the offender, the police arrested you and charged you with disturbing the peace.

Another time, faced with arrest after a domestic dispute, you threatened to blow up the police station with dynamite you had in your work bag. Appearing in court the next day you stated you couldn’t remember making such a threat, but if you did, you were sorry. You were fined $10.

1870 U. S. Census showing Charles Cephas, his wife, Sarah, his mother-in-law and two children.

Were there good times? Did you and Sarah get together with other families after church for dinner? Your children would have gone to school in town. 

In 1902 the Independent reported the wedding of your son, George, to Carrie Yancey. It was “a very pretty home wedding, performed in the presence of a large company of friends.”

Another time we learn of your son, Ernest, playing hockey on Spot Pond. Earnest would later go to sea, serving in the U.S. Navy during the Spanish American War.

There were painful losses, as the loss of your firstborn son, Charles H. Cephas, age one. Infant deaths were also recorded in 1874 and 1883.

At some point the stresses of life must have crossed over to your marriage. In 1895, after 28 years, your wife petitioned the Middlesex Court for divorce, and it was granted.

Sometime after this, you moved to Chelsea and started working as a stone mason at the Charleston Navy Yard. I couldn’t find any more about you until 1908, when I found this in the Stoneham Independent:

Charles Cephas, colored, passed away Wednesday evening of last week, at the Chelsea Marine hospital, as the result of injuries received by being assaulted as he was coming out of the Charlestown Navy Yard.

The reporter speculated that your killers must have been after your pension money.

Although there was no mention in the Boston papers, I did find a copy of the coroner’s report. It stated the cause of death as “acute fibrinous pneumonia consequent on hemorrhage and laceration of the brain sustained under circumstances unknown, probably those of an accidental fall.” Accidental fall? Really?

After a funeral in Chelsea, they brought you back to Stoneham for burial in the Civil War military section. Was there an honor guard? On Memorial Day I stopped by Lindenwood to pay my respects.

Sometimes I wonder what you would make of our town today. Of our nation. Some things are better. Some not.

Charles Cephas stone in Lindenwood Cemetery in Stoneham

There’s so much that would amaze you. So many stories of African Americans who paved the way in education, music, science, law enforcement, athletics, and business, not only on the national stage, but in our own town, some of them your descendants.

If I tell you about the achievements, however, I also have to mention the set-backs. I have to tell you about George Floyd.

But here’s something to celebrate. Did you know we now celebrate Juneteenth, the date in 1865 when enslaved folk in Texas finally found out they were free?

Mr. Cephas, when I think of you, I think of a man digging wells so families can have water. I think of a stone mason, his hands rough with callouses. I think of a man who had a temper, but who wanted, above all, a safe place to live, work and raise a family. A man who lived and loved, laughed and fought. A man who deserved more respect than he got.

Happy Juneteenth, Mr. Cephas.

Ben Jacques

Stoneham