5 Lessons from America's First Black Congressmen That History Books Left Out
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Introduction: The Forgotten Trailblazers
Long before Congressman Jim Clyburn became a household name, South Carolina sent eight trailblazing African American men to the U.S. Congress. They served during the brief, hopeful, and turbulent era of Reconstruction, a period that saw Black men gain the right to vote in 1870 and immediately use that power to elect representatives. These men are not historical footnotes; they are sources of powerful, surprising, and urgent lessons for today. As told by their modern-day successor, Congressman Clyburn, their stories reveal a more complex and inspiring picture of American history than the one we were taught. Here are five of the most impactful takeaways from their lives and careers.
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1. A Self-Taught War Hero Helped Win the Civil War—Then He Won a Seat in Congress.
A Civil War hero's daring escape convinced Lincoln to change the war's trajectory.
Robert Smalls was born into slavery in Beaufort, South Carolina. While working on the Charleston waterfront, he was assigned to the Confederate ship, the Planter. On a Friday night in 1862, he put a daring plan into action. Donning the captain’s hat as a disguise, Smalls and his fellow enslaved crewmen commandeered the vessel, expertly navigating it past five Confederate sentry points. A guard at Fort Sumter, fooled by the ruse, even yelled out, "Go blow those yankees to hell." Once clear of the harbor's guns, Smalls’ wife raised a white bedsheet as a flag of surrender, and they delivered the ship and its military cargo to the Union forces, winning freedom for everyone aboard.
But his courage was tested again. In a fierce battle, the Union captain of the Planter lost his nerve and ordered Smalls to surrender the ship. Smalls refused. After a heated altercation, he locked the terrified captain in the pilot’s house, took command himself, and won the battle. The Union army promptly fired the captain and made Smalls the new one.
His celebrity from these events led to a meeting with President Abraham Lincoln, where Smalls successfully argued that the Union needed Black manpower to win the war. Lincoln, who had been adhering to a law preventing their service, was convinced. Smalls was authorized to recruit 5,000 African American soldiers, a number that grew to 40,000. As Lincoln himself would later conclude:
"were it not for this manpower the union would not have prevailed"
In Clyburn’s words, Smalls was a "genuine civil war hero." His character was further revealed after the war when he bought the house he had been enslaved in and allowed his former master's widowed wife to live there until her death. His courage was not just physical and political, but deeply personal.
2. The First Black Man Elected to Congress Was an International Entrepreneur.
The path to Congress for the nation's first elected Black representative ran through Bermuda.
Joseph Rainey holds the distinction of being the first African American elected to the U.S. House of Representatives. His story defies the typical narrative of post-emancipation politics. Born enslaved in Georgetown, South Carolina, his father, a successful barber, earned enough money to purchase the family's freedom.
When the Civil War began, Rainey was conscripted to work for the Confederacy. He and his wife refused this fate and escaped—not north, but by ship to Bermuda. There, they became successful international entrepreneurs. Rainey set up a barbering business, and his wife opened a dress shop. The couple earned "tremendous wealth" and rode out the war abroad.
After the war, they returned to South Carolina, where Rainey’s economic independence positioned him for leadership. He won a regular election to Congress, but his term wasn't set to begin until March 1871. In the meantime, the sitting congressman was kicked out for selling appointments to the service academy, triggering a special election. Rainey won it, allowing him to be sworn in on December 12, 1870, three months ahead of the other newly elected Black representatives. His path to power was paved not just with political savvy, but with entrepreneurial grit and a global perspective that gave him a unique foundation for public service.
3. Their Work Went Beyond Washington; They Were Building Communities from the Ground Up.
These leaders focused on building wealth and institutions for their communities.
For these congressmen, political power was not an end in itself but a tool for community building. No one embodied this better than Richard Cain. A minister from the A.M.E. Church, Cain was sent to Charleston after the war with a specific mission: to rebuild the historic Emanuel A.M.E. Church, which had been burned down after Denmark Vesey’s planned uprising in 1822.
Cain was so successful that the congregation grew to over 4,000 members, forcing him to establish a second church, Morris Brown A.M.E. But his most enduring legacy lies just outside of Summerville. Cain founded the town of Lincolnville with the explicit purpose of providing housing for Black families, which he saw as the "quickest route to wealth building."
This work demonstrates that these leaders saw their mission as far more than legislation. They were architects of Black civil society, creating the churches, towns, and economic opportunities that were essential for their communities to not only survive but thrive in the wake of emancipation.
4. Their Political Power Was Dismantled by Weaponizing the Justice System.
It wasn't just violence that ended their careers, but the misuse of the law.
While violent intimidation from white supremacist groups was a constant threat, a more insidious tactic was used to systematically remove these men from office: weaponizing the law. Rather than simply being defeated at the polls, several of these congressmen found themselves indicted on politically motivated charges.
Robert Smalls was indicted and imprisoned before eventually being pardoned. Richard Cain, the community builder who founded Lincolnville, was accused of mortgage fraud. The goal was not just to remove them from power, but to discredit them and the entire project of Black political leadership. As Congressman Clyburn observes, the architects of this strategy were acutely aware of what they were doing:
"They were really embarrassed that they were using the law, using the judiciary, to get these people out of office. Imagine that."
This chilling history, in which the justice system itself was turned into a political weapon to dismantle Black power, resonates deeply today. It is a tactic, Clyburn warns, that is "about as current as anything" in the morning newspapers.
5. The Entire Era of Progress Was Officially Ended by a Single Vote.
A backroom deal following a contested presidential election erased a decade of progress.
The promise of Reconstruction was dismantled not in one fell swoop, but by two pivotal moments decided by a single vote. The first came after President Lincoln’s assassination, when his successor, the white supremacist Andrew Johnson, actively worked to undo everything Lincoln had accomplished. Congress impeached him, but when the vote came to the Senate, they failed to convict him and remove him from office—by one vote.
That single vote saved a presidency hostile to civil rights. A few years later, another single vote would seal Reconstruction’s fate.
The presidential election of 1876 was fiercely contested. Samuel Tilden had 184 electoral votes to Rutherford B. Hayes’s 165, with 185 needed to win. The outcome hinged on 20 disputed electoral votes from three Southern states: Florida, South Carolina, and Louisiana. A 15-member committee was formed to resolve the crisis. After negotiations, the committee voted 8-7—a difference of just one vote—to award all 20 electors to Hayes.
As part of the deal, Hayes became president, and in April 1877, he kept his promise to his Southern allies. He ordered the removal of all remaining federal troops from the South. With that act, Reconstruction was officially over. A decade of progress was first imperiled when one vote failed to remove a hostile president, and then officially ended when one vote installed a complicit one.
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Conclusion: Does History Repeat Itself?
The stories of South Carolina's first eight Black congressmen are more than just forgotten history. They are a living lesson about the courage required to break barriers, the fragility of democracy, and the powerful forces that have long sought to undermine progress. Their triumphs were monumental, but the end of their era serves as a stark reminder of how quickly hard-won gains can be lost.
As Congressman Clyburn reminds us, the philosopher George Santayana famously wrote that those who fail to learn from the past are condemned to repeat it. The question these stories leave us with is not whether history repeats itself, but whether we can learn its lessons well enough to ensure the results do not have to be the same.
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