Base Colonies in the Western Hemisphere, 1940-1967 (Studies of the Americas)

STUDIES OF THE A MERICAS edited by

James Dunkerley Institute for the Study of the Americas University of London School of Advanced Study Titles in this series are multi-disciplinary studies of aspects of the societies of the hemisphere, particularly in the areas of politics, economics, history, anthropology, sociology, and the environment. The series covers a comparative perspective across the Americas, including Canada and the Caribbean as well as the United States and Latin America. Titles in this series published by Palgrave Macmillan: Cuba’s Military 1990–2005: Revolutionary Soldiers during Counter-Revolutionary Times By Hal Klepak The Judicialization of Politics in Latin America Edited by Rachel Sieder, Line Schjolden, and Alan Angell Latin America: A New Interpretation By Laurence Whitehead Appropriation as Practice: Art and Identity in Argentina By Arnd Schneider America and Enlightenment Constitutionalism Edited by Gary L. McDowell and Johnathan O’Neill Vargas and Brazil: New Perspectives Edited by Jens R. Hentschke When Was Latin America Modern? Edited by Nicola Miller and Stephen Hart Debating Cuban Exceptionalism Edited by Bert Hoffman and Laurence Whitehead Caribbean Land and Development Revisited Edited by Jean Besson and Janet Momsen Cultures of the Lusophone Black Atlantic Edited by Nancy Priscilla Naro, Roger Sansi-Roca and David H. Treece Democratization, Development, and Legality: Chile, 1831–1973 By Julio Faundez The Hispanic World and American Intellectual Life, 1820–1880 By Iván Jaksic´ The Role of Mexico’s Plural in Latin American Literary and Political Culture: From Tlatelolco to the “Philanthropic Ogre” By John King

Faith and Impiety in Revolutionary Mexico Edited by Matthew Butler Reinventing Modernity in Latin America: Intellectuals Imagine the Future, 1900–1930 By Nicola Miller The Republican Party and Immigration Politics: From Proposition 187 to George W. Bush By Andrew Wroe The Political Economy of Hemispheric Integration: Responding to Globalization in the Americas Edited by Diego Sánchez-Ancochea and Kenneth C. Shadlen Ronald Reagan and the 1980s: Perceptions, Policies, Legacies Edited by Cheryl Hudson and Gareth Bryn Davies Wellbeing and Development in Peru: Local and Universal Views Confronted Edited by James Copestake The Federal Nation: Perspectives on American Federalism Edited by Iwan W. Morgan and Philip J. Davies Base Colonies in the Western Hemisphere, 1940–1967 By Steven High Beyond Neoliberalism in Latin America? Societies and Politics at the Crossroads Edited by John Burdick, Philip Oxhorn, and Kenneth M. Roberts

Base Colonies in the Western Hemisphere, 1940–1967 Steven High

BASE COLONIES IN THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE,

1940–1967

Copyright © Steven High, 2009. All rights reserved. First published in 2009 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN® in the United States—a division of St. Martin’s Press LLC, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010. Where this book is distributed in the UK, Europe and the rest of the world, this is by Palgrave Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited, registered in England, company number 785998, of Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS. Palgrave Macmillan is the global academic imprint of the above companies and has companies and representatives throughout the world. Palgrave® and Macmillan® are registered trademarks in the United States, the United Kingdom, Europe and other countries. ISBN-13: 978–0–230–60943–3 ISBN-10: 0–230–60943–0 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available from the Library of Congress. A catalogue record of the book is available from the British Library. Design by Newgen Imaging Systems (P) Ltd., Chennai, India. First edition: January 2009 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Printed in the United States of America.

Contents

List of Figures

vii

List of Tables

ix

Acknowledgments

xi

Introduction

1

1 The United States and Hemispheric Defense

17

2 The Tourism Politics of Base Location in Bermuda

43

3 Working for Uncle Sam in Newfoundland

67

4 “You Can’t Eat Dignity”: Race and Labor in the British Caribbean

93

5 Building Bases on a Jim Crow Island

117

6 The American Occupation of Stephenville, Newfoundland

137

7 The Racial Politics of Criminal Jurisdiction

157

8

175

From Slavery to Chaguaramas

Conclusion: Stepping Stones to New Empires

199

Notes

205

Bibliography

271

Index

281

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Figures

0.1 “Navy Property.” 1.1 Map of St. Lucia with Base Locations. 2.1 Index Map. U.S. Corps of Engineers. Bermuda Air Base, Bermuda Islands. Parcel Index Map. Leased Area— St. David’s Island. March 15, 1941. 2.2 Map. U.S. Corps of Engineers. Bermuda Air Base, Bermuda Islands. Parcel Index Map. Leased Area—St. David’s Island. March 15, 1941. 2.3 Detail in U.S. Corps of Engineers. Bermuda Air Base, Bermuda Islands. Parcel Index Map. Leased Area—St. David’s Island. March 15, 1941. 3.1 Photograph. Naval Air Station. Argentia, Newfoundland. Views of Existing Docks. Looking North from S.S. Richard Peck. March 1, 1941. 3.2 Photograph. Naval Air Station. Argentia, Newfoundland. Bulldozer Sunk in Bog. February 12, 1941. 3.3 Photograph. Naval Air Station. Argentia, Newfoundland. Unloading Material from Freighter. Looking East from Railroad Station. February 12, 1941. 3.4 Photograph. Naval Air Station. Argentia, Newfoundland. Newfoundland Barracks, Unit #4. May 24, 1941. 3.5 Photograph. Naval Air Station. Argentia, Newfoundland. Cigarettes Unloaded from the S.S. Torungen. June 12, 1941. 3.6 Photograph. Naval Air Station. Argentia, Newfoundland. Cutting Off Plank for Dock Extension. June 11, 1941. 3.7 Photograph. Naval Air Station. Argentia, Newfoundland. Sheet Piling #1 to 423 at the Seaplane Parking Area. September 12, 1941.

7 35

50

51

52

70 71

73 75

77 79

83

viii

FIGURES

3.8

Photograph. Naval Air Station. Argentia, Newfoundland. Temporary Laundry. Preparing Sheets for the Dryer. May 14, 1942. 4.1 Map of Chaguaramas Naval Base. 6.1 Vicinity Map. Philip Bruton, “Stephenville Staging Field—Boundary Lines and Property Ownership.” 6.2 Detail. Philip Bruton, “Stephenville Staging Field—Boundary Lines and Property Ownership.” 6.3 Detail. Philip Bruton, “Harmon Field. Revised Boundary Line and Property Ownership,” September 17, 1941.

89 110 138 139 139

Tables

1.1 Strengths of Army-Navy Bases in Suggested Itinerary of Eleanor Roosevelt’s March 1944 Tour (Selected) 2.1 Drawing Comparisons between St. David’s Island Case Files, 1941–43 2.2 Motor Vehicles in Bermuda, 1939–43 3.1 The Number of Newfoundland Men Employed on Canadian and American Bases, 1942–45 3.2 Wages Proposed for Selected Occupations at U.S. Army and Navy Bases in Relation to Other Major Employers, February 1941 (Cents per Hour) 3.3 Changes in Hourly Wages for Local Employees of Newfoundland Base Command (United States) and Its Contractors, 1941–45 4.1 Population and Geographic Area of Caribbean Base Colonies 4.2 Comparative Wage Rates in Occupations Common to the Sugar Industry, Colonial Government, and the U.S. Bases, Trinidad, 1944 5.1 Local Employees of U.S. Army in Bermuda by Sex and Race, August 1943 6.1 Classification of Stephenville Farm Lands Subject to Expropriation (Acres) 6.2 Composite Monthly Rates of Venereal Disease Infection at Harmon Field, April 1943–March 1944 (per 1000, with Actual Number in Parenthesis) 6.3 Selected Amounts Claimed and Awarded for Property in Stephenville, 1943–44 7.1 Jurisdiction over Criminal Offences, Article 4, Bases Agreement

41 60 64 69

81

84 97

112 126 144

150 154 158

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Acknowledgments

T

his book originates in a postdoctoral fellowship at Memorial University in St. John’s, Newfoundland. I went to Newfoundland to study the closing of the U.S. Army and Navy bases in the 1960s and 1970s. This was a natural topic for me as my doctoral dissertation (and first book, Industrial Sunset: The Making of North America’s Rust Belt) examined mill and factory closings in North America. One of my chief frustrations in this first project was my inability to gain access to corporate archives. Why did companies close plants? How did they go about doing it? Did politics figure into the decisionmaking process? Not surprisingly, I discovered that corporations closing mills and factories were not enthusiastic about my subject of inquiry and I was limited to sifting through corporate records that had found their way into the public realm. In doing so, however, I discovered an extensive paper trail on how the U.S. government handled base closings. As a historian of North America whose work took a cross-national comparative perspective, the thought of studying the network of U.S. bases in Newfoundland appealed to me. It would also give me the chance to work with Greg Kealey, one of Canada’s leading labor historians. Within two or three months of beginning my archival research in Newfoundland, I found myself shifting my attention back in time to when the U.S. bases were established in the Second World War—part of the famous “destroyers-for-bases” deal that saw fifty old U.S. destroyers traded for base locations. The base openings were moments of transformative social and economic change. To tell this story, however, I found that I had to look beyond Newfoundland to the seven other British “possessions” that hosted U.S. bases in the Western Hemisphere. Only then, I soon realized, could the story be told. As is always true in comparative research, this took longer to do. Not only did I now need to conduct research in the United States, Great Britain, and Canada—I had to do research in Bermuda and Trinidad as well. This shifting focus required that I immerse myself in the histories of the British Caribbean and Bermuda. Whole new literatures opened up to me. The first thank you goes out to all of the archivists and librarians who helped me along the way. The book relies heavily on the military and diplomatic records held at the National Archives and Records Administration, the Library of Congress, the Naval Historical Centre at the Washington

xii

ACK NOW LEDGMENT S

Navy Yard, and the Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library in Hyde Park, New York. The extensive Colonial Office documentation found at the Public Records Office in Kew Garden proved useful as did the extensive archival collections uncovered in Bermuda, Newfoundland, and Trinidad. The archivists and staff at the Bermuda Archives, the Centre for Newfoundland Studies, the Public Archives of Newfoundland and Labrador, the Maritime History Archives, and the Archives of Trinidad and Tobago were wonderful. I also conducted research at Canada’s national library and archives in Ottawa. I would like to thank the many people in St. John’s, Newfoundland, who made our two years in the city such an inspiring experience. Special thanks go out to Linda and Greg Kealey, Sean Cadigan, Jeff Webb, Miriam Wright, and Jerry Bannister. I also have cause to thank Kees Boterbloem, Larry Patriquin, Dana Murphy, and Kristen O’Hare Sean Graham at Nipissing University as well as Donna Whittaker at Concordia University. In 2004– 2005, I taught an honors seminar at Nipissing University on the “United States Army and Navy Abroad” that examined the social history of U.S. imperialism from the 1890s until the present. Over the term, we read works relating to the U.S. military occupation, friendly or otherwise, of the Philippines, Cuba, Puerto Rico, Panama, Haiti, Trinidad, Canada, Australia, Great Britain, Germany, Austria, Korea, and Okinawa. These passionate discussions helped me immeasurably. The book was pushed to completion in summer 2007 thanks to a Guest Professorship at the JFK Institute of the Free University of Berlin. I would like to thank Petra Dolata-Kreutzkamp for her tremendous generosity. John Walsh, John Bonnett, Jeff Webb, and Sean Cadigan commented on parts of the manuscript. Thanks also goes out to Martin Boyne for the index. Various parts of the book were presented at conferences and earlier versions of three chapters have appeared in print in Newfoundland Studies (chapter 6), Acadiensis (chapter 3), and the Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History (chapter 7). Funding for this project came from a postdoctoral fellowship from Canada’s Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council and from an internal research grant from Nipissing University. Sean Cadigan and the Public Policy Research Centre at Memorial University gave me an office during the early stages of writing. The Canada Research Chairs program and Concordia University provided indirect financial support in the final stages. Finally, I would like to thank my partner Barbara Lorenzkowski and our two children Sebastian and Leanna for all their love. This book is dedicated to my parents, Carolyn and Gerald High of Thunder Bay, Ontario. I am proud to be their son.

Introduction

T

he big troopship Edmund B. Alexander arrived in Newfoundland waters on January 25, 1941 where it waited for weather conditions to improve before entering St. John’s harbor. It squeezed through the narrows four days later, with only fifteen feet to spare on either side and dropped anchor opposite its pier on the Southside. The city was be-flagged in welcome, whistles blasted from other vessels, and crowds gathered along the harbor front and on the surrounding hills to watch this historic moment. The 21,329-ton vessel, said to be the largest ship to ever enter the port, carried one thousand U.S. soldiers. Colonel Welty, the officer in command of the arriving troops, expressed his happiness to serve in Newfoundland: “We consider it a signal honour to be the first American troops to garrison one of the newly acquired bases granted to the United States by his Majesty’s Government.”1 For the next four months, the vessel would become a familiar sight in St. John’s as it acted as a floating barracks during the initial phase of base construction.2 If the arrival of the Edmund B. Alexander marked the beginning of the “friendly invasion” of Newfoundland by the United States in the Second World War, its earlier departure from Brooklyn, New York, was viewed as a historic moment of another kind.3 When the former German-liner Amerika, seized in Boston in 1917, steamed down the East River carrying the first U.S. soldiers to embark, en masse, for one of the British territories hosting new U.S. bases, “there opened a new and momentous chapter in our history whose future none can foresee.”4 The Anglo-American “destroyers-for-bases” deal, sealed in a diplomatic exchange of notes on September 2, 1940, saw fifty aged U.S. destroyers exchanged for extensive base locations leased for ninety-nine years in Newfoundland, Bermuda, and Trinidad as well as smaller ones in British Guiana (Guyana), Jamaica, Antigua, St. Lucia, and the Bahamas. In the voyage of the Edmund B. Alexander, we find two competing historical narratives about the importance of the destroyers-for-bases deal. First, like the story that accompanied its departure, the agreement marked a decisive political break from America’s isolationism. Great Britain received material support from the United States for the first time in its fight for survival against Nazi Germany. The diplomatic importance of the deal is

2

BASE COLONIES IN T HE W EST ERN HEMISPHERE

naturally emphasized. However, like the Edmund B. Alexander’s arrival in St. John’s, the agreement triggered far-reaching changes in the eight imperial outposts that hosted military bases. The second narrative, which has rarely been heard outside the host territories themselves, is the focus of this book. The U.S. bases brought economic prosperity and social dislocation, raising nettlesome questions. What were the varied effects of these “friendly invasions” and how did they compare? The first part of the title of the book, “Base Colonies,” is taken from the correspondence of Anglo-American diplomats and military officers during the Second World War who used it as a kind of short-hand to refer to those British territories in the Western Hemisphere that were hosting United States leased bases. If the usage of base colonies served the everyday purpose of distinguishing these places from others, the phrase does suggest a deeper meaning. The coupling together of these two words indicates something more and something less, simultaneously. On the one hand, these were colonies with bases. On the other, these were U.S. bases in British colonies. Their existence made British control seem conditional, even partial. Sir Henry Watlington of Bermuda grasped this ambiguity in November 1940 when he told the other members of the colonial House of Assembly that “two kings cannot live in an area of 19 square miles.”5 Taken from the perspective of the colonized peoples of the Caribbean, however, another meaning of base colonies reveals itself—colonies as bases. In this reading, best articulated by Eric Williams in his landmark “From Slavery to Chaguaramas” speech, delivered in July 1959, the Anglo-American destroyers-for-bases deal was rooted in a long history of colonialism in the Americas. “We in the West Indies,” Williams told his audience, “begin our association with modern world economy as naval and military bases, attacked, defended, captured, retaken, repossessed, etc., traded, donated, any word you like, the result is the same. That is the beginning of our connection with the modern world and international economy.”6 For Williams, a historian and Trinidad’s first minister at the time, this was as true in the twentieth century as it had been 300 years earlier. “We never consented to be sold for scrap,” he wrote in his memoirs.7 While colonialism was monolithic in Williams’ rhetoric, an omnipresent system of exploitation, recent scholarship associated with the “new imperial history” has emphasized the fractured nature of empires: divided by different agendas, interests, strategies, and ideologies.8 Europe’s colonies were never “empty spaces to be made over in Europe’s image or fashioned in its interests” but rather were shaped in struggle. Maintaining colonialism, according to Frederick Cooper and Ann Laura Stoler, “required coercive and administrative work and cultural work—to define hierarchies and police social boundaries. Such work was always subject to contestation.” 9 This work, of course, was put into further doubt in 1940 when Great Britain agreed to U.S. Army and Navy bases in its possessions. If we consider the differences between empires as well as their lack of internal homogeneity, the “base colonies” label reveals a final meaning: the

INTRODUCTION

3

different strategies adopted by the United States and Great Britain to overseas expansion. Great Britain expanded through formal empire, whereas the United States (with some notable exceptions to be sure) favored expansion through informal empire.10 One nation established colonies, whereas the other built army and navy bases and declared “zones” of influence and of exclusion. With the destroyers-for-bases deal, these formal and informal empires converged in the base colonies. The leased bases therefore constituted not only “a point of direct and continuous contact between the American and British Administrations, entailing considerable possibilities of friction” but also a contact zone between colonized peoples and these two friendly rivals.11 The insertion of U.S. bases in British territories internalized what had hitherto been external. The United States received much more than real estate. In the Leased Bases Agreement of March 1941, the United States was accorded considerable powers within and without the leased areas. The coming of U.S. servicemen was therefore likened to an “invasion” or an “occupation.”12 If colonies were “laboratories in modernity,” as some have suggested, the base colonies were also showcases of U.S. and British brands of imperialism. The inhabitants of Newfoundland, Bermuda, Trinidad, and the other base colonies could not help but draw comparisons. In this regard, the British came out as the poor cousins of the Americans. The depression years had thrown British colonialism into crisis: falling commodity prices produced widespread misery and no new investments were made in colonial development by the “home” government. Talk of Britain’s “slum Empire” followed the wave of labor protest and riot that swept the West Indies and Africa during the 1930s.13 “The West Indies, are to some considerable extent,” wrote Sir John Campbell, Economic and Financial Advisor to the Colonial Office, “the British shop-window for the USA. I am afraid it is not a very striking exhibit.”14 U.S. criticism of British colonialism during the war was a source of friction between the two countries. Winston Churchill, for example, famously objected to the United States “coming to school-marm us into proper behaviour.”15 The destroyers-for-bases deal, it was feared in London, invited the United States inside the shop for a closer look. Base Colonies is centrally concerned with social and economic history. In this regard, the project shares much in common with the burgeoning literature on other “friendly invasions” of foreign lands by the U.S. armed forces. Issues of race and gender are central to the path-breaking work of Sonya Rose, Marilyn Lake, David Reynolds, Kay Saunders, and others. One of the best studies of the “alchemy” of race and sex in wartime is Beth Bailey and David Farber’s fascinating book on Hawaii, The First Strange Place.16 Albeit part of the United States, the islands’ race relations were unfamiliar to incoming soldiers and sailors. Virtually all of these authors indicate that moral discourses take on new power in times of national crisis. “Good times” seemed incompatible with the heroic self-sacrifice that was demanded.17 Venereal disease was likewise blamed on local women who were deemed the “source” of the problem. Immorality was situated in U.S.

4

BASE COLONIES IN T HE W EST ERN HEMISPHERE

Army and Navy records as a local, external threat to the bases and the men stationed there. If women usually took the brunt of moral panic, Harvey Neptune has shown that black men also proved vulnerable. In his 2007 book Caliban and the Yankees, Neptune shows how Trinidad’s elite fretted over “hooliganism” and poor black men “making style” with zoot suits and other African American attire. Indeed, “subordinated people often found in Americans’ presence effective means of opposing or mitigating the injustices of the colonial status quo.”18 Sexual relations, calypso music, and base labor provide Neptune with the other points of entry into this rich subject. In wartime Trinidad, the coming of the Americans destabilized the colonial order, creating opportunities for young Creole men and women. For Neptune, Trinidad “seethed with subaltern subversion.” “Contact zones” and “colonial encounters” (Neptune calls wartime Trinidad a “triangular encounter”) have thus shaped recent scholarship. Inspired by postcolonial critiques of nationalism, many of these authors have turned away from an older historiography that emphasized the exploitive impact of U.S. military imperialism. Yet in focusing on local contests, scholars such as Neptune end up treating U.S. servicemen as liberators rather than as occupiers. This revisionist impulse leads them to overlook other fields of contestation where the exploitive impact of the United States is clearer such as in the removal of inhabitants, base location, criminal jurisdiction, and Jim Crow racism. Base Colonies therefore offers a broader economic and political perspective that attempts to find middle ground between the political and diplomatic scholarship of the 1980s and more recent works of cultural history. Although there are a handful of studies that focus on wartime Newfoundland19 or the British Caribbean, 20 none deal with Bermuda in any depth. There are likewise only a few studies, virtually all of them diplomatic and military histories, that look at more than one of these three regions. The strategic value of the leased bases for the Western Hemisphere is examined in The Framework of Hemispheric Defense and Guarding the United States and Its Outposts, two official U.S. Army histories of the war.21 Historian Charlie Whitham has since written about the hard negotiations that brought about the deal and the Leased Bases Agreement that followed in March 1941.22 Despite the existence of these hemispheric or transatlantic studies, the scholarship to date has been divided along regional or national lines and has sadly failed to speak to each other. Base Colonies is therefore the first book-length study to examine the base colonies in comparative perspective and the first to interrogate the wartime experience of Bermuda. The comparative framework enables us to discern similarities and differences and to grapple with their meaning. As a result, it places at the center what would otherwise be at the margins. Studies of Newfoundland, for example, never acknowledge the importance of race. In placing this history into a wider context we see that this white settler Dominion was, in fact, treated differently by the United States and Great Britain. Yet striking

INTRODUCTION

5

similarities emerged at other times that transcended race. The myth of the “lazy native” was one such instance. Locally recruited construction labor in Newfoundland, Bermuda, and Trinidad were treated with the same condescension no matter the race. This cross-regional framework is balanced with several local case studies that help “ground” the discussion in the everyday lives of ordinary people. Unlike most studies, Base Colonies pays particular close attention to rural areas that often bore the brunt of the friendly invasion. Taking its cue from Eric Williams, the book is also a contribution to the history of U.S. imperialism, more generally. The often-brutal U.S. occupation of Haiti and the Philippines as well as the creation of the exclusionary Panama Canal Zone shaped U.S. actions in Trinidad, Bermuda and, yes, even Newfoundland. U.S. Army and Navy officers stationed in the base colonies had frequently spent years in these other places. It was only natural then that these men would attempt to re-produce what they had known in the Canal Zone or the Philippines. This impulse, as we will see, was particularly evident in matters of race and labor. The occupation, any occupation, as Mary Renda notes in Taking Haiti, is a “structure of power.”23 This power structure took spatial form in the Americanized landscape of the Panama Canal Zone. During the 1930s, the United States created a “sanitized zone” in the enclave, a domesticated landscape that differed from the surrounding natural and built environment. In the name of mosquito control, the jungle was controlled and indigenous people were removed from a 450-square-mile area. An Americanized landscape thus meant a racialized landscape where Panamanians were excluded and imported West Indian labor was confined to segregated (and overcrowded) towns.24 For geographer Stephen Frenkel, the Zone’s geography reflected “the power and beliefs of their principle designers.”25 The same point can and will be made about army and navy bases in the British Caribbean, Bermuda, and Newfoundland. With the exception of the 99th Anti-Aircraft Artillery unit that was deployed in Trinidad in 1942, all of the army and navy units sent to the base colonies from the continental United States were white.26 African Americans were also barred from employment on the base construction sites. In this way, as in others, the Americanized landscape of the leased areas was one of exclusion.27 The decision to lease bases to the United States raised a number of administrative and legal issues such as security, criminal jurisdiction, customs and other duties, base location, health measures, port fees, surveys, and even postal service. Agreement needed to be reached on each of these points. The United States and Great Britain, along with delegations from Newfoundland, Bermuda, and Trinidad, the governors of Jamaica and the Leeward Islands as well as a team of observers from Canada, negotiated the Leased Bases Agreement in London in February and March 1941.28 Negotiations were often contentious with the United States refusing to compromise on many issues. There was some fear that colonial officials might refuse to implement the agreement—placing Britain in a tough situation as British prime minister

6

BASE COLONIES IN T HE W EST ERN HEMISPHERE

Winston Churchill had already declared in the House of Commons that no action would be taken without the approval of the colony concerned.29 At several points, the talks almost ruptured.30 British and colonial officials expressed dismay at the inability of the American delegation to make effective decisions. Everything had to be referred back to Washington with sometimes uncomfortable results. On several occasions, the American delegates had to revisit points that had been hitherto agreed to.31 It would take seven weeks of acrimonious negotiations to arrive at a settlement, and only then, after Winston Churchill directed the British delegation to accede to U.S. demands on customs duties and criminal jurisdiction. The Leased Bases Agreement provided a legal framework for the friendly invasion of the base colonies. In Article 1, the general description of rights, the United States was accorded wide-ranging powers within the leased areas as well as in adjacent lands and waters. The twenty-nine articles that followed reveal the extent of the powers won by the American negotiators. For starters, U.S. servicemen and civilian construction workers would be freed from the obligation of paying taxes, customs duties or harbour fees. They could even post their letters at the U.S. Post Office in leased areas. Crimes committed within the leased areas were under the exclusive jurisdiction of the United States. Those crimes committed by U.S. servicemen outside the leased areas, but not of a military nature, were under the concurrent jurisdiction of the civilian and military authorities. How this worked in practice, we shall see, had everything to do with race. In addition to the nearly complete control that the United States acquired within the leased areas, it won extensive powers off-base. In Article 20, on health measures, the United States won the right to respond to perceived health threats in areas adjoining the leased bases. Legal procedures for the removal of inhabitants and the lease of additional lands were also provided for. The United States was hence free to “occupy” and “control” the leased areas and was accorded considerable powers outside these areas. The new U.S. ambassador to Great Britain, John G. Winant, was evidently pleased by the Bases Agreement. It contained everything that the United States had hoped for: The rights and powers it conveys are far-reaching, probably more far-reaching than any the British Government has ever given anyone over British territory before. They are not used to giving such concessions and on certain points they have fought every inch of the way. While they have intended all along to give us everything we really needed—they could do no less and had no desire to do less—it was a real struggle for them to break habits of three hundred years. The Prime Minister has been generous throughout.32

The full text of the Bases Agreement was published in dozens of newspapers around the world including the major daily newspapers in the base colonies themselves. To ensure colonial support, Winston Churchill issued an open letter to the people of each base colony thanking them for their sacrifice.

INTRODUCTION

7

With the signing of the Agreement on March 27, 1941, the legal framework for the occupation was complete, though a great deal of jurisdictional ambiguity remained. The subsequent occupation of the leased areas by the United States was accompanied by pomp and ceremony. Commissioning and naming ceremonies, the arrival of troopships and visits by American dignitaries or experts provided dramatic occasions where Anglo-American cooperation could be performed and where the American “invasion”—as it was so termed throughout the base colonies—could be marked and its meaning declared. Speaking at the commissioning of the naval air station in Bermuda, for example, Governor Sir Denis Bernard said: “This act of cutting the first sod begins a new association between our two great nations. It is a symbol of a historic pact. I think you will agree with me when I say that this friendly little gathering today shows how the firm friendship of our two great nations will be the best insurance for the future peace and happiness of the world.”33 The flag-raising and sod-turning ceremonies that accompanied the building of the leased bases made it appear that there was “no conflict, only harmony, no disorder, only order, that if danger threatens, safe solutions are at hand, that political unity is immediate and real because it is celebrated.”34 Sally F. Moore and Barbara G. Myerhoff indicate that ceremonies and rituals often lend authority and legitimacy to what is “most in doubt.”35 In 1940–41, the degree to which the United States would lend a hand to Great Britain was very much in doubt. These public performances invited people to visualize Anglo-American cooperation.

Figure 0.1

“Navy Property.”

Source: Centre for Newfoundland Studies Archives. MF 20364. Photograph 20128.

8

BASE COLONIES IN T HE W EST ERN HEMISPHERE

Each of these ritualized moments provided an occasion for news editors and journalists in the base colonies to reflect on the meaning of the friendly invasion. I would like to offer a typical flag-raising ceremony in the Caribbean region as an example, this one at the U.S. base at Portland Bight, Jamaica, in April 1941. The colony’s main newspaper, the Daily Gleaner, noted that the hoisting of the Star Spangled Banner “over the territory leased to Washington” and the ceremony that accompanied it was “brief, simple and symbolic.”36 Continuing, Symbols have a deep significance, and the raising of the Stars and Stripes over any portion of British territory must have a solemn signification for the people of the country in which it takes place. Yet it is impossible for Britishers to regard America as a foreign nation, and she has been no more so regarded by them than the people of one part of the British Empire look upon the inhabitants of another part as foreigners merely. It is impossible to forget that America was once a part of the British Empire, and if it be said that America fought to win her independence of England, the comment upon this is that there have been civil wars in England herself for the establishing of new rights and new freedoms.37

Here, again, the local press emphasized their shared heritage and language and their shared regard for democratic principles and ideals: “It is therefore not as a foreign nation, but as one aligned by blood and tradition, by speech and by social and political aspirations to England that we Jamaicans look upon the United States of America today.” One of the remarkable things about these assertions of sociocultural and historical commonality is what is not stated: they assume a shared whiteness. In effect, wrote the Daily Gleaner: Friendship, co-operation, the mixing up of American and British affairs in certain respects, for beneficial and benignant purposes and ends, are symbolized by the hoisting of the American flag at Portland Bight in the afternoon of yesterday. America is with us in this war, with us in act and not merely in sympathetic words. Of this we are all appreciative, for this we are grateful, and British West Indians feel that they do play some part in this standing together of the two democracies. We remain British; at the same time we are on friendlier terms than ever before with the people of the United States . . . . The war is terrible, but we can see its soul of goodness in this closer drawing together of England and America, in this strengthening of the foundations of friendship upon which both great nations stand.38

There were dozens of similar ceremonies across the region throughout 1941—marking the ritual transfer of base sites to the United States. Flags were unfurled, bands played, troops inspected, general salutes sounded, toasts proposed, and speeches made. Later in the war it became common for British governors to review marching U.S. troops in full battle dress from reviewing stands as formations of American fighters flew overhead dipping their wings in salute.39

INTRODUCTION

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The imposition of U.S. control over the leased areas occurred gradually over a period of months as inhabitants were removed and American servicemen and construction workers poured in. This liminal moment is recorded in the many photographs and eyewitness reports of Newfoundland’s Argentia peninsula. Once home to 500 people, Argentia was leased to the Americans for a naval base. Residents refused to leave, however, until they were adequately compensated for their lost property and livelihood. As a result, the town and the base coexisted uneasily for a period of time. Oral interviews conducted with uprooted residents during the 1970s and 1980s tell of people living in a vast construction site.40 We are fortunate to have access to several dozen letters home from Jerome E. Gilpatrick, a U.S. civilian engineer, who helped build the Argentia base in 1941–42. His “Dear Wife” letters provide us with an eyewitness account of the transformation underway. When he heard that his wife had acquired a map of Newfoundland, he wrote to her on April 20, 1941 that “the town occupied the whole peninsula. Well this base is the town now—as the town has gone out of existence. The base covers the whole peninsula. There are about 2 square miles . . . of land devoted to this base and soon there will not be a native here.” Gilpatrick’s use of “native” was no isolated incident. Decades later, white Newfoundlanders continued to remember with frustration the American propensity to refer to them as natives—a word that had hitherto been used to label nonwhites.41 The shifting authority at Argentia was also evident in the reports of the Newfoundland constables stationed there. In June 1941, it was reported that it was “getting a bit stricter here at the Naval Area.” Indeed, “to get through the gate the person must be a workman with a badge or have a pass from the registration office this leads to quite a bit of delay in some cases.”42 The constabulary’s passes were revoked in October.43 Henceforth, the Newfoundland constables were merely “visiting guests” when crossing into the Argentia naval base. The United States regularly declared war on the anopheles mosquito, unsanitary conditions, and venereal disease. Inevitably, the source of disease and danger was linked to residents.44 Two members of the health division of the U.S. Corps of Engineers, for example, conducted surveys in the Cumuta area of Trinidad in September 1942. Early morning searches were conducted in “native” houses and stables.45 As a result, the United States created a “sanitized zone” in the name of mosquito control—a domesticated landscape that differed from the surrounding natural and built environment.46 Most of the base colonies amended their venereal disease control laws giving medical authorities the right to compel medical examination and treatment in a “lock hospital.”47 Though U.S. soldiers in Trinidad were inspected monthly, and prophylactic stations were set up to treat soldiers after “exposure,” local women were identified as the source of the problem. These changes were frequently referred to as “new” and “modern” codes and colonial officials sought to learn the “most modern methods” of dealing with the problem.48

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The completed bases were total environments that were visibly distinct, separated as they were from adjoining areas by fences and armed guards. Because the bases were built in peacetime (the United States did not enter the war until the bombing of Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941), the U.S. government stopped at nothing to ensure the security and comfort of its citizens. The association of the U.S. bases with “the modern” was everywhere apparent. The bases were equipped with indoor plumbing, cafeterias, cinemas, golf courses, and other recreational facilities, social clubs, hospitals, and even radio stations. In time, the bases became arch-typical American landscapes—self-contained, suburban, sanitized, and segregated. In fact, white Americans inscribed their racialized identities on the bases. The proximity of the leased bases to population centers in the host territories and the constant comings and goings put into sharp relief the economic disparities between “natives” and newcomers. Civilians visiting the bases were in awe of the power and wealth that these bases displayed. Many visitors had never seen anything like it. A security officer in British Guiana noted that “a [U.S.] [b]ase is in effect a [U.S.] [c]olony, an off-shoot of its own country, run upon lines peculiar to and dictated by the Government of that country.” In fact, the “pinch of economic laws is entirely absent; there are no neglected houses or roads and every person within the borders is employed, well-clad and well-fed. It provided, in fact, an unintended but seductive advertisement for the [U.S.] way of life and organization which can and does lead the undiscriminating into error.”49 Other colonial assessments of the impact of the U.S. bases echoed these sentiments. Humphrey Walwyn, the governor of Newfoundland, for example, reported that the leased bases were models in modernity: The permanent buildings are admirably built, efficient in operation and attractive in appearance; and, while they are built on a scale and of materials beyond the reach of the average citizen, they do present models at first hand for him to aspire to and copy. Already the effect upon Newfoundland building and architecture, heretofore stereotyped and ugly, is discernible in new civilian building and housing schemes. Up to date methods in healing and plumbing, applied on the Bases, are being adopted widely; for example central heating by oil burners is spreading rapidly.50

There had even been “good object lessons” in terms of landscape gardening and town planning. For Walwyn, the U.S. bases had done much toward the “modernization” of Newfoundland building, architecture, communication and “the art of better and more comfortable living generally.”51 Americans, too, saw the bases as powerful symbols of U.S. might and prosperity. An article appearing in the newsletter of Bermuda Base Command in 1943 called the U.S. Army base a thing of beauty: “Here is America at its best, building on a huge scale with efficiency, power, and magnificent blending new buildings into an ancient landscape, new buildings equipped with every modern convenience. The American trademark, symbol of the new world.”52 Like their bases, American GIs viewed themselves as “living

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examples” of America’s “abundance and its way of life.”53 While American construction workers brought to the base colonies were paid fully twenty per cent more than the going rate on the mainland, U.S. servicemen received substantially higher wages than their British and Canadian counterparts. It is for this reason that historian David Reynolds called his book on the American occupation of England in the Second World War, “Rich Relations.” To be sure, the social distance between U.S. servicemen and their hosts in the base colonies was far greater than in England. Just as the bases created a visual landscape that sharpened the class and racial divide, so too did the throngs of U.S. servicemen on liberty in the towns and cities of the base colonies. Passage through the main gates into the leased area was as much a cultural crossing as it was a physical one. In Newfoundland, for example, automobiles entering or leaving the bases had to cross to the other side of the road (as Newfoundlanders continued to drive on the left side until war’s end). In Bermuda, motor vehicles were supposed to be prohibited altogether—at least outside the leased areas. The gates also became a flash point for racial confrontation and violence. Many of the shootings of “native” civilians in the Caribbean occurred at these access points. Relations deteriorated to such an extent that the U.S. Navy turned to civilian (nonwhite) guards in the region. The leased bases thus created a distinctive topography, the visual identity of which contrasted sharply with the surrounding areas.54 Given the urgency of the moment, the leased bases were built at a breathtaking speed. U.S. experts catalogued the progress made in base construction: millions of cubic meters of fill, capacity of oil and gasoline storage tanks, length of pier, miles of road. A thousand people in attendance at a September 1942 concert and dance at the Chaguaramas naval base in Trinidad, for example, were treated to a slide show. The fourteen projected images included eight views of Chaguaramas before base construction began and six of the area as it was then. As each image was shown, U.S. commander Zola “explained them.”55 The evening featured a wide assortment of American and Trinidadian musicians, including the final number by “Destroyer” who sang a special calypso about Mr. Sweeney, the operations manager of the James Stewart construction company. Wartime visitors to the Caribbean got a “grandstand seat from which one can watch history being made.”56 For the many American journalists who descended onto the base colonies, time seemed to accelerate once you passed through the main gate into the leased areas. They frequently juxtaposed picturesque British colonial outposts with the hyper-modernity of the U.S. bases. Outside the bases, the glories were in the distant past: a time of pirates, privateers and “old forts of empire” that lie “in various stages of preservation or abandonment to jungle growth, all ‘picturesquely situated.’ ”57 Inside the bases, the U.S. Army and Navy were clearing the land in a few short months and building airports, modern docks, and gun emplacements. The speed of the work was everywhere emphasized.58 Their moment of glory was now. In the words of one wag, the isles of play had become the isles of work.

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The contrasting representations of time structured the many reports written by visiting experts of one kind or another. “Busy Americans” were contrasted to “lazy natives” in Anglo-American correspondence and news reports during the war.59 American engineers under orders to proceed as quickly as possible sometimes indicated their frustration at the “easy going ways” of Newfoundlanders, Bermudians and West Indians.60 The perceived slow rhythm of life in the base colonies was encapsulated in a widely reported incident that accompanied the arrival of the U.S. engineers in Bermuda. On November 18, 1940 the House of Assembly passed a bill giving the engineers the right to enter upon private property for their surveys. The bill could not go to the Legislative Council, however, until the speaker of the House could be found to sign it. He had gone fishing.61 The story was told and re-told, even appearing in the New York Times.62 One of the best examples of the U.S. bases acting as a catalyst for positive social change is in the field of food standards. The U.S. Army and Navy applied their food quality standards to all local businesses wishing to sell goods or services to American nationals. The case of Newfoundland is particularly telling. Before the war, there were a variety of manufacturing plants in St. John’s producing beverages, biscuits, boots and shoes, butter, workmen’s clothing, confectionary, cordage, nails, paints, stoves, and tobacco products. There were also scattered farms producing fresh vegetables, meat, poultry, and milk.63 For all of these producers, the visiting forces represented a significant new market. Yet if they were going to engage in the “American trade,” as it came to be known, they would have to satisfy U.S. Army and Navy health inspectors. In February 1941, the United States issued the results of their sanitary survey of bars and restaurants in St. John’s: only thirteen restaurants in the city were deemed worthy of American patronage. Sixteen cafés and thirteen beer shops were thereafter declared off-limits to U.S. servicemen. In the case of several beer shops, the prohibition was justified on the basis that the alcohol served led to “temporary insanity.”64 Although the city council objected to the wholesale condemnation of St. John’s eateries, officials in Newfoundland’s Department of Public Health and Welfare lauded the U.S. move. In fact, there was remarkably little public criticism of the blacklisting of the establishments.65 To the contrary, public criticism was directed at the Newfoundland Commission of Government and the City Council for permitting these unsanitary conditions to exist in the first place. In the months that followed, U.S. health inspectors fanned out across St. John’s and other towns and cities to inspect bottling concerns, butcher shops, meat markets, fish markets, dairies and milk companies.66 In each instance, the investigating officer recommended approval or disapproval of the business as a source of goods or service. Of seven bottling plants, for example, only four were approved. Two of these, however, only passed muster after investing substantial capital into improving their operations. To engage in the American trade, bottlers purchased new and more efficient bottle washing machines, installed stainless steel syrup tanks and built new water

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treatment plants.67 Employees were even required to wear uniforms for the first time. Dairy producers also struggled to exploit the new American market at their doorstep. Milk was supplied to licensed milk vendors in St. John’s from dairy farms in the area.68 There were also residents who owned a cow or two and supplied their neighbors with milk. In November 1940, U.S. public health officers estimated that unregulated “yard milk” supplied 400 of the 2,000 gallons consumed each day in the city. Less than half of the milk sold through recognized milk dealers, however, was pasteurized. More troubling, still, was the fact that there was no tuberculin testing program in effect among Newfoundland’s dairy herds, contributing to the high rate of tuberculosis among infants. Two milk-borne outbreaks of scarlet fever occurred in the city shortly before the outset of war. As a result, U.S. servicemen were ordered to drink only imported canned milk.69 Not wanting to lose this new market for fresh milk, the Newfoundland government implemented a compulsory testing and barn inspection program in 1941. Those cows found to have tuberculosis were destroyed and replaced by healthy cows brought in from the mainland.70 The integrity of the new system was ensured by U.S. Army veterinarians who made regular inspections of farms. Outside of St. John’s, the U.S. Navy took an even more interventionist approach—testing hundreds of milk cows and supervising the construction of a new dairy and pasteurizing plant.71 These efforts culminated in the creation of a new grade of milk known as “Newfoundland Mark Milk” that was identical to U.S. Army standards. The U.S. Consul General in Newfoundland was therefore able to report in 1941 that the new regulations drafted under the Fishery and Agriculture Produce (Grading and Marking) Act met the exacting standards of the U.S. Army and offered to the public a “grade of milk that carries a Government guarantee to have been drawn from cows free from Bangs disease and tuberculosis.”72 There were seven registered producers of National Mark raw milk and two processors of Grade A pasteurized milk. In effect, U.S. health standards became the de facto standard in Newfoundland, at least for those who could afford to purchase the new but more expensive standard.73 It is little wonder, then, that the wartime arrival of U.S. servicemen to Newfoundland has been remembered fondly. The eight chapters that follow explore the socioeconomic and political dimensions of the friendly invasions of Newfoundland, Bermuda, Trinidad, British Guiana, Antigua, St. Lucia, Jamaica, and the Bahamas. In chapter 1, “The United States and Hemispheric Defense,” we see the acquisition of the leased bases from the vantage point of the United States. The Atlantic world looked to the eight territories in the days, weeks, and months that followed the destroyers-for-bases deal. Newspaper readers were told the importance of the bases to hemispheric defense and were shown their strategic location in the many maps published that fall and winter. The chapter examines the process by which the United States located, demarcated and occupied the ninety-nine-year leased areas in the Second World War.

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Chapter 2, “The Tourism Politics of Base Location,” finds that tourism interests determined Bermuda’s ferocious opposition to the initial proposed base location. The colony’s merchant elite thought that the U.S. base was incompatible with the “Bermuda Aesthetic” cultivated throughout the colony, but most especially in the vicinity of the Great Sound. In defending its substantial investment in tourism facilities, the government proposed an alternative location in the colony’s east end. The base location controversy was only resolved when the United States reluctantly agreed to re-locate its proposed base to St. David’s Island. It was no coincidence that this island had yet to be transformed into a tourist haven and that St. David’s Islanders had a reputation for not being entirely “white.” In this Jim Crow colony, black Bermudians lived segregated lives and they were barred from a number of jobs including the civil service. The chapter then explores how the tourist aesthetic underpinned notions of property value and, in so doing, largely determined the nature and level of compensation for those displaced. A competing settler discourse of lost income and disturbance could not compete. The coming of the Americans to wartime Bermuda likewise triggered debates about the present and future identity of the colony, including the island’s ban on motorized transportation. The next three chapters examine the labor and economic history of the base colonies. Chapter 3, “Working for Uncle Sam in Newfoundland,” interrogates the efforts of the Newfoundland Commission of Government to control the labor supply. The United States built four sprawling bases in Newfoundland and employed 20,000 residents at the height of base construction. To minimize the disruption to the Dominion’s fishing, logging, and mining industries, the British and Newfoundland governments quietly lobbied the United States to pay the depression era rates already prevailing in the country. The Commission of Government also urged fishers and loggers working at the bases to return to their seasonal jobs in 1941 and 1942 under false pretenses. These efforts proved partially successful, but the high rate of labor turnover was interpreted by the Americans as an absentee problem that was rooted in a flaw in the Newfoundland character. The chapter holds that the comings and goings of base construction workers should not be attributed to loafing or laziness. Wages paid to base workers proved too low to keep them on these work sites year round, but they were high enough to keep them coming back. Chapter 4, “You Can’t Eat Dignity,” examines the interrelated issues of race and labor in the Caribbean. As true elsewhere, the base building boom generated employment and rising expectations. It also caused racial and class conflict. The chapter will examine the growing militancy of West Indian laborers in their fight for higher wages and better working conditions and the issue of Jim Crow racism. Did the bases contribute to the rise of West Indian nationalism? How was their labor represented and controlled? At the heart of the chapter is the supposed choice facing prospective workers at the U.S. bases in the region: would they choose to work for the Americans (“money”) or the British (“dignity”).

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Chapter 5, “Building Bases on a Jim Crow Island,” looks at the most ambitious attempt to control labor. Alone among the base colonies, Bermuda created a powerful Labour Board modeled on the system of labor control prevailing in the Panama Canal Zone. The Board was composed of all the major employers on the island, military and civilian, without any labor representation. The results were predictable. On the one hand, wartime labor control resulted in the growing solidarity of the biracial elite. On the other hand, an indigenous black union movement emerged to protest Bermuda’s wartime labor policies that curtailed wage increases, restricted worker mobility, and insisted on the continuation of the fifty-four-hour work week (despite U.S. appeals for a shorter forty-eight-hour work week) even as rents were left unregulated and income and property taxes were negligible or nonexistent. The war represented a watershed moment in class and racial politics in Bermuda. Chapter 6, “The American Occupation of Stephenville,” next offers a case study of the process of dispossession and uncontrolled growth in Stephenville, a small coastal community of farmers on Newfoundland’s isolated west coast. Because base construction commenced in Newfoundland before the other base colonies, a mechanism for compensating property owners had to be agreed to. It would later be used in whole or in part in the other base colonies. Controversy over how to valuate property, specifically different national notions of worth, animated the process. The appearance of an unsanitary shack town on the edge of the Stephenville air base complicated matters further. The U.S. occupation may have been friendly, but it was not orderly. The final two chapters examine the racial politics of the American occupation and the anti-colonial challenge to the bases after the war. Chapter 7, “The Racial Politics of Criminal Jurisdiction,” examines the recurring questions over jurisdictions of criminal cases. Racial considerations proved pivotal in how these ambiguities were resolved. What happened to an American soldier charged with committing a crime against person or property? Would he be tried by a service court or by a civilian court in the host society? Article 4 of the Bases Agreement stated that the United States enjoyed exclusive jurisdiction in criminal cases occurring within the leased areas. The United States also had the right to try and punish offenses of a “military nature,” no matter where they occurred. What constituted such an offense, however, was not entirely clear. The Americans also enjoyed concurrent jurisdiction for offenses of any other crime that were alleged to have been committed off-base by service personnel. In reality, the United States insisted on trying its own no matter where the alleged crime took place. Only in Newfoundland did the United States submit to civilian judgment from time to time. The final chapter, “From Slavery to Chaguaramas,” examines the postwar struggle over the Chaguaramas naval base in Trinidad. The decision to locate the U.S. Naval Operating Base on Trinidad’s North West Peninsula proved controversial from the very beginning. Located a short distance from Port of Spain, the peninsula had been the chief recreational and bathing area for

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urban residents—rich and poor alike. This chapter focuses on the emergence of Chaguaramas as a potent political symbol in the 1950s and 1960s. When the emerging West Indian Federation voted in 1957 to locate its new capital in Chaguaramas, matters came to a head. For the next three years, chief minister Eric Williams almost single-handedly transformed Chaguaramas into a hated symbol of British and American imperialism. Under intense pressure from Williams, and unsure about its legal claim to the leased areas after West Indian independence, the United States agreed in December 1960 to immediately withdraw from part of the peninsula and to vacate the entire leased area within twenty-five years. From this struggle, Chaguaramas came to mean far more than a geographic place name. It became a place where the collective heritage of Trinidad crystallized, marking the coming of age of the Trinidad nation. Just as the storming of the Bastille has marked the birth of the French Republic, Eric Williams’ campaign to have Chaguaramas returned—epitomized by the famous April 1960 “march in the rain”—represents the moment of national birth in Trinidad. In victory, however, the symbolic meaning of Chaguaramas underwent revision. When the People’s National Movement government efforts to redevelop the site “for the people” failed, it tarnished the image of this mythic site of national memory. For some Trinidadians, Chaguaramas came to symbolize the failures of the postcolonial era. The Anglo-American destroyers-for-bases deal had far-reaching consequences for Newfoundland, Bermuda, and Trinidad. To this day, the coming of the Americans is remembered as a watershed moment in the economic, social, cultural and political history of these strategic islands. The U.S. bases in Antigua and St. Lucia, albeit smaller establishments, nonetheless caused a comparable change at least during the war years. The effect on Jamaica, British Guiana, and the Bahamas was less dramatic, though of symbolic importance in the decolonization era. The American occupation thus provides us with a unique opportunity to undertake a comparative study of places that are rarely thought of together.

Chapter 1

The United States and Hemispheric Defense

Some future painter of historical canvases, some Trumbull or Carpenter or Constantino Brumidi, seeking to record the epochal in the American story, may find worthy of his brush the press conference at which President Roosevelt read his Congressional message on the Anglo-American exchange of destroyers for air and naval bases. The scene was informal—the sitting room of a railway car, the President in suit of blue, his cigarette in the familiar ivory holder, the reporters around him, some sitting at his feet—yet present were the very stuff and drama of the historic moment. Whether for good or ill, the message revealed the isolationism that had dominated American thinking for two decades had been discarded, and the United States in the name of national defense had turned down a road that, whatever its ruts, bog holes or thank-you-mams, pointed toward greater influence and greater power. Other generations would probably have called it the road of destiny, “manifest destiny.” Francis Brown, The New York Times (September 15, 1940)1

President Franklin D. Roosevelt read his message to Congress inside his rail

car only after it pulled out of Charleston, West Virginia, and rolled along the Kanawha River on September 3, 1940. He waited for the newspapermen traveling with him to file into his small sitting room that normally sat seven or eight comfortably but now had to accommodate twenty. By all accounts, the air was thick with expectation and the U.S. president reveled in the history of the moment. His first words were to say that he was about to announce the most important event in the defense of the United States since Thomas Jefferson’s purchase of Louisiana. He grinned at his captive audience—“flourishing his ivory cigaret [sic] holder, professorial, relishing the historicity of the scene”—and told those gathered that the United States would send fifty aged destroyers to embattled Britain in exchange for base sites in the Western Hemisphere.2 The House of Representatives would, he said, be informed of the deal in twenty-two minutes time. As no appropriations were necessary, the president maintained that he did not need Congressional approval. “What electrified the crowded roomful of correspondents,” Time Magazine reported, “was the audacity with which

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the deal was consummated: it would be presented to Congress for approval. A Congressional veto was out of the question. Congress was being told about it as a fait accompli.”3 President Roosevelt’s deal was destined to be historic. In his message to Congress, Roosevelt declared that the Anglo-American agreement was an “epochal and far-reaching act of preparation for continental defence in the face of grave danger.” Further, he indicated that it was the “most important action in the reinforcement of our national defence that has been taken since the Louisiana Purchase. Then, as now, considerations of safety from overseas attack were fundamental.”4 Although the comparison seems an unlikely one today, as the ninety-nine-year leased bases did not play a prominent role in the subsequent fighting, few Americans would have disagreed with Roosevelt’s comparison in September 1940. France had fallen to the Nazis three months earlier and Great Britain was fighting for its very survival. Should Great Britain succumb as well, a prospect that the president’s advisors thought likely that summer, there was little to protect the eastern seaboard of the United States from attack. The U.S. Navy was still a one-ocean navy and its surface vessels were concentrated almost entirely in the Pacific. Though it was never publicly admitted, the United States had long relied on the Royal Navy’s control of the Atlantic for security.5 In the age of the long-distance air bomber and German submarines that could operate almost anywhere in the Atlantic Ocean and even into the Caribbean, the security of the United States and the Western Hemisphere were treated as one and the same. The strategic value of a chain of leased base locations stretching from Newfoundland in the North to Trinidad in the South was therefore obvious to everyone gathered in the president’s rail car. For Roosevelt, The value [to] the Western Hemisphere of these outposts of security is beyond calculation. Their need has long been recognized by our country and especially by those primarily charged with the duty of charting and organizing our own naval and military defence. They are essential to the protection of the Panama Canal, Central America, the northern portion of South America, the Antilles, Canada, Mexico and our own Eastern and Gulf seaboards. Their consequent importance in hemispheric defence is obvious.

The U.S. president now believed that his nation’s security depended on “the protection of the whole American Hemisphere against invasion or control or domination by non-American nations.”6 With war raging in Europe and Asia, hemispheric defense became the by-word of strategic thinking in the United States. The Western Hemisphere and the Bases Deal In and of itself, the concept of hemispheric defense was nothing new. In his 1823 Presidential Message to Congress, James Monroe declared that the Americas were “henceforth not to be considered as subjects for future

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colonization by any European powers.”7 In barring European powers from intruding on the Western Hemisphere, the Monroe Doctrine assumed an opposition between the “New” and “Old” Worlds. The Western Hemisphere was deemed to be, in Gretchen Murphy’s words, “democratic space,” and fully within the U.S. sphere of influence.8 President Theodore Roosevelt’s 1904 “corollary” to the Monroe Doctrine, made in the aftermath of the Spanish-American War, took it a step further. The United States now claimed the right to intervene anywhere in the Hemisphere to maintain economic stability and democracy. The Monroe Doctrine thus loomed large in U.S. strategic thinking in 1940. According to the New York Times, “to the United States, under the Monroe Doctrine, fell the role of protecting the Western Hemisphere from foreign invasion. To Britain, with Washington’s tacit consent, fell the task of guarding the Atlantic.” 9 Yet, in spite of this long history, hemispheric defense as a coherent military strategy, was “as new as the divebombing plane and the flame-throwing tank.”10 In 1939–40, the United States was ill-equipped for war. The regular army consisted of only five divisions, or 80,000 troops. Most of these units were stationed in four widely scattered departments outside the continental mainland: the Panama Canal (with a garrison of 14,451), Puerto Rico (with a small garrison of 1,000), Hawaii (with 21,475 soldiers), and the Philippines (with 10,920).11 Worse still, the Army Air Corps had a meager 160 pursuit planes and 52 heavy bombers.12 Even the U.S. Navy, the most favored of the armed services, remained a “one-ocean” force that was concentrated in the Pacific. The Atlantic approaches to the United States were therefore left virtually undefended. In their prescient analysis of the evolution of the hemispheric policy of the United States, army historians Stetson Conn, Rose C. Engelman, and Byron Fairchild wrote that on the eve of war “the concept of collective security or hemispheric defense, had not yet been translated into firm international undertakings. The underlying threat was relatively clear-cut. Only if a hostile power acquired military bases within the Western Hemisphere could the United States be seriously threatened.”13 The defense of the Western Hemisphere was predicated on building a vast network of air and sea bases. Only with these bases could the United States prevent an overseas enemy (Germany) from establishing bases within striking distance of the Panama Canal or the eastern seaboard of the United States. Unlike the Pacific where the U.S. Navy had established bases at Hawaii and other outlying islands, the United States had no mid-ocean line of defense in the Atlantic. The concentration of naval bases in the Pacific was no accident. The commanders of the U.S. Navy had long focused their attention on the Pacific. The outbreak of full-scale war between Japan and China in 1937 reinforced this one ocean orientation. That year, the only naval vessels stationed in the Atlantic belonged to the “training squadron.”14 This longstanding reality “pointed to an implicit understanding that in the Atlantic the British fleet guarded American interests as well as its own.”15 Should the strategic situation change, it was presumed, the U.S. fleet could sail through the

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Panama Canal to the Caribbean and to the Atlantic beyond. The canal therefore acted as a strategic pivot for this one-ocean navy.16 It was, in the words of Time Magazine in July 1940, “the only insurance the US has against leaving one of its coasts undefended against attack.”17 Should the canal be blocked or captured, that insurance would no longer exist. Given the canal’s unequalled strategic and tactical importance, the United States sought to secure its approaches from surface raiders. Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, a prize of the Spanish American War, and thus the oldest outlying base, guarded one of the most traveled approaches into the Caribbean between Cuba and Haiti. The sheltered harbor was said to be among the best in the West Indies, big enough to hold the entire U.S. fleet. Puerto Rico, another prize from 1898, and now heralded as the “Gilbraltar of the West Indies,” was host to a greatly expanded army and navy complex. Finally, the seaplane base in “Uncle Sam’s Virgin Islands” controlled the Anegada Passage.18 This network of bases, however, was incomplete. There were still gaping holes in the defensive perimeter: the southern Caribbean being the single biggest obsession of U.S. strategists. With the fall of Western Europe to the Nazis, the Atlantic and Caribbean took on new importance for U.S. Army and Navy planners. This shift in strategic thinking began in 1938 when the Czech crisis took Europe to the brink of war. One lesson that Franklin Roosevelt drew personally from the crisis was the growing importance of air power. France and England capitulated out of fear of the German Air Force.19 In response, Roosevelt announced on November 14, 1938 his goal of an Army Air Force equipped with 10,000 modern airplanes. He also sought to greatly expand the nation’s industrial capacity to build warplanes. Roosevelt redeployed part of the U.S. fleet to the Atlantic with the creation of the Atlantic Squadron in January 1939. In a secret agreement later that year, Great Britain granted the U.S.-leased seaplane base locations in Trinidad, Bermuda and St. Lucia.20 With the temporary ebb of global tensions during the “phoney war,” the United States decided not to exercise the base options. The 1939 agreement nonetheless acted as the antecedent to the September 1940 destroyers-for-bases deal. By then, however, the United States wanted to build far more than seaplane bases.21 Before Munich, the United States had confined its war planning principally to a possible attack by one belligerent nation.22 The deteriorating situation in Europe and Asia made most of the old plans obsolete. As a result, the Joint Planning Committee was directed in December 1938 to prepare new war plans in the event that Germany, Italy, and Japan joined in an alliance. The resulting report, filed on April 21, 1939, indicated that the U.S. Navy was not equipped to face all three countries at once. The planners recommended that the United States complete its installations on Hawaii and the Panama Canal, improve security on the Canal, develop its Alaskan and Puerto Rican defenses, develop its Pacific bases, and rapidly expand America’s naval strength.23 Five “Rainbow” plans were developed in the months that followed. Rainbow 1, 3, and 4 assumed that the United States had no significant allies

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against the German-Italian assault. Rainbows 2 and 5 presumed that the United States would be allied with Britain and France. Rainbow 1 (the basic plan) was premised on a defense of North America only (above 10 degrees north latitude) with a strategic defense of Alaska, Hawaii, and Panama. No reinforcements would be sent to the Philippines. Rainbow 3 provided for the defense of North America as well as “vital” U.S. interests in the Western Pacific. In this instance, the Philippines would be reinforced. Rainbow 4 provided for the defense of the entire Western Hemisphere from the North Pole to the South Pole.24 Should the United States be allied with Great Britain and France it was envisioned that the United States would mount an offensive in the Western Pacific (Rainbow 2) or a defensive posture in the same region (Rainbow 5). While the army favored a continental or hemispheric defensive strategy, the navy wanted a continued commitment to its possessions in the Western Pacific.25 With the collapse of France and the hurried evacuation of the British Army at Dunkirk, the strategic picture had changed beyond recognition. The United States could no longer count on British naval control of the Atlantic. Worse still, the Royal Navy might fall into German hands. This was the nightmare scenario for U.S. strategists. For historian John Major, “the cataclysm of May–June 1940 ushered in nothing less than a revolution in United States defense policy. The tacit assumption that Britain and France would hold Western Europe against Germany had been destroyed.”26 The perceived threat to the U.S. homeland was twofold: a Nazi-inspired revolution in Latin America or (with the fall of Western Europe) the transfer of a Dutch, Danish, or French colony to Germany. In either scenario, the Germans could use the acquired territory as a launching pad for aircraft. The shift in strategic thinking away from the Pacific and toward the Atlantic was complete by May 1940. The sense of imminent British defeat led the formerly isolationist Congress to endorse the measures. Rainbow 4, the plan that envisioned the United States fighting alone in the Pacific and in the Atlantic, now became America’s top priority. The U.S. Army and Navy scrambled to secure its Atlantic and Caribbean frontiers. In June and July 1940, the United States launched a massive rearmament drive. Roosevelt proposed a two-ocean navy by 1947. The proposal entailed a whopping 70 percent increase in tonnage at a cost of four billion dollars. The Atlantic Fleet, as an administrative body, was created on February 1, 1941. The Atlantic fleet under construction, however, would need bases. Some U.S. politicians had long coveted the Caribbean possessions of the British, Dutch, and French. Public calls for their purchase had been a recurring phenomenon in the interwar decades. A June 1940 Gallup Poll found that fully 81 percent of the American people favored buying these lands outright.27 That month, Prescott Childs, a U.S. diplomat stationed in Barbados, advised his superiors that the United States should annex oil-rich Trinidad and Curacao-Aruba: “However, should there be a ‘block booking’ system as in the cinema industry—all or none—then I suppose we would

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have to take the bad [small islands] with the good.”28 Only then, he reasoned, could the United States ensure that no new European power could use the smaller islands to open a “wedge” in the Monroe Doctrine. Alternatively, Childs suggested that the Canadians might be persuaded to “have these islands” as America’s northern neighbor produced no sugar cane and had substantial business dealings in the region.29 Territorial expansion has been an “American habit” ever since the first white settlers landed at Jamestown.30 The history of American imperial expansion began with the young Republic’s determined drive westward on the North American continent. Native peoples and the Spanish were swept aside at the point of a gun. With the Spanish-American War of 1898, the United States acquired a “nucleus of empire” in Cuba, Puerto Rico, and the Philippines.31 U.S. officers schooled in the unforgiving tactics employed in the Western Plains brought the same to the Philippines to savagely put down nationalist resistance to the occupation. Similar atrocities occurred in Haiti during the nineteen-year occupation of the black republic from 1915 to 1934.32 Through occupation and purchase the United States expanded from sea to sea and “burst the continental boundaries to stake out a colonial empire as an aftermath of the war with Spain. Then came a halt.” Were the leased bases a return to an era of empire building? Times journalist Francis Brown thought not. For him, the modern United States “appears to be more the guide and protector than the old-fashioned ‘Colossus of the North’ feared and hated by all the nations south of the Rio Grande.”33 America’s new role, he concluded, was that of “trustee” for the “Pax Americana.” It was America’s destiny to become the undisputed caretaker of the hemisphere. Yet, in spite of such examples of “formal empire,” the United States generally pursued a policy of “informal empire,” of bases and leased “zones” rather than colonies. U.S. architects of imperialism were not interested in governing large populated areas of nonwhite people as the British had done, but rather in “pinpoint, strategically located colonies.”34 All too aware of the long history of American “gunboat diplomacy” in the region, Franklin Roosevelt committed the United States to a “Good Neighbors Policy” in the hemisphere. The Havana meeting of foreign ministers in July 1940, of which the United States was front and center, expressly declared that the “peoples of this continent have the right to freely to determine their own destinies.”35 The final declaration of the Havana Conference prohibited the “sale, transfer, mandate or trusteeship” of any European possession in the Americas. Given this public commitment, the option of leasing base sites in Newfoundland, Bermuda, and the British Caribbean for ninety-nine years, when it came up, appealed to U.S. lawmakers. As Charles A. Petioni, chairman of the Caribbean Union, later complained, the Havana declaration did not explicitly prohibit the “gift” or “lease” of base locations.36 In a famous comment, Roosevelt asked why the United States would want the “million headaches” that would accompany outright possession when its interests were served by leased bases.37

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The Making of the Deal With the Battle of Britain raging in the skies overhead, and Great Britain’s survival hanging in the balance, Prime Minister Winston Churchill appealed to Roosevelt for destroyers as early as May 15. But to no avail. Admiral Stark took the position that even the oldest destroyers were still needed. The British were desperate to bring the United States into the war on its side. This being unlikely, they sought material and moral support. It was at this critical juncture that Churchill proposed a swap. In exchange for fifty aged American destroyers, the United States would receive leased base sites in eight British territories scattered across the Western Hemisphere. Great Britain also promised not to scuttle or surrender its navy should Britain fall to the Nazis. For the British, the proposed destroyers-for-bases deal therefore promised much more than fifty obsolete destroyers—it would signal to the British people that they were not alone. It was also hoped that the Anglo-American agreement would open the doors to further material support and, eventually, to U.S. entry into the war. In early August, Roosevelt’s cabinet held a long discussion over the proposed sale of the destroyers to Great Britain. In a memorandum, the U.S. president indicated that the general opinion around the table “without any dissenting voice” was that the very survival of Great Britain might depend on it receiving these destroyers. At the same time, “it was agreed that such legislation if asked for by me without any preliminaries would meet with defeat or interminable delay in reaching a vote” in Congress.38 An outright sale or transfer of the destroyers was a political impossibility. Only a lop-sided public exchange of destroyers for base sites would appease Congressional opinion. In the meantime, news that Great Britain had offered leased base locations for destroyers leaked into the U.S. media. An August announcement that President Roosevelt was indeed negotiating with the British for the acquisition of base sites was defended on the grounds that the Panama Canal and the eastern seaboard of the United States needed protection. Admiral William D. Leahy, governor of Puerto Rico and former chief of naval operations, stated publicly that a U.S. base in Trinidad would greatly improve the defense of South America and the Caribbean. Leahy also noted that leaseholds would be as effective as outright ownership.39 Retired rear admiral Yates Stirling, Jr., agreed, writing in the New York Times that Winston Churchill’s offer of ninety-nine-year leased bases on British territories would go some way in rectifying the lack of naval and air bases in the Atlantic and Caribbean. There were, however, strong voices that cautioned against such a deal. On August 15, 1940, U.S. ambassador to Great Britain, Joseph Kennedy, warned his superiors in Washington that the British promise to send its fleet to Canada was not to be trusted. He referred to the “French debacle” wherein the French premier at the time and Admiral Darlan had similarly agreed that if France was defeated, the fleet would be handed over to the British. This did not happen: Now Churchill, in his agreement with us, promises a good deal less than that . . . it would be well to consider that if the occasion arose here where a

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surrender was imminent, it is not at all unlikely that the entire Churchill Government would be thrown out and another government come in that would make peace and, in that event, it is too much to imagine that the new government might very well consider itself bound by promises of Churchill and dispose of the fleet to its own best advantage? I therefore think it might be well to decide how we can protect ourselves in this event.40

Yet the archival records preserved at the Roosevelt Presidential Library in Hyde Park, New York, make clear that the president and his advisors wanted to help Britain, they just needed to find a politically viable means of doing so. The idea of a direct destroyers-for-bases exchange was therefore developed out of political necessity: the isolationist U.S. Congress had tied the President’s hands. The proposed deal allowed Franklin Roosevelt to side-step U.S. neutrality laws and the power of the Congress. It also allowed Roosevelt to wrap himself in the Stars and Stripes flag: it was a good deal for America. The leasing of base locations was an easier sell to the American public than the acquisition of entire colonies. The latter option, though popular in some quarters, would offend anti-imperialist sentiment in the United States and Latin America as well as British pride. U.S. senator William H. King submitted a lengthy memorandum that attempted to answer possible critics of the exchange taking shape: It must be borne in mind that these islands and territories are of vital importance to us for national defense, which makes their value as great, if not greater, than the Virgin Islands were to us at the time they were acquired . . . . If we were to pay 25 million dollars for each new military base acquired, it would be money well spent. While it is true, for this sum the United States obtained sovereignty over the Virgin Islands as well as a base, nevertheless these islands have been a liability rather than an asset. It is only the military base which gives this territory any value to us. To all practical purposes, a 99 year lease would give us as much rights as we have over our base in the Virgin Islands.41

Back in London, however, the British War Cabinet was having second thoughts about the optics of the proposed exchange. It was felt by some that it would be viewed as a desperate act, a sign of weakness. The Cabinet preferred to offer the air and naval bases independent of the destroyers. The risk of a public exchange of letters was that “people will contrast on each side what is given and received. The money value of the armaments would be computed and set against the facilities and some would think one thing about it and some another.” Ambassador Kennedy reported on August 29 that the British War Cabinet was advising its representative in Washington, Lord Lothian, to tell the president that “while they accept his proposition they want the right to announce that they offered these bases as part of reservations and that they are making the deal this way because of legal and constitutional difficulties in the United States.”42 The British foreign

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minister, Lord Halifax, however, wanted the deal done any way that the U.S. president wished, believing that the “idea of the England–United States tie-up on anything is of more value than either bases or destroyers.” The British nonetheless took the view that this should not be a “cold commercial” deal, but rather one of transatlantic gift-giving. This idea was quickly shot down in Washington as the U.S. president had no authority to make a gift of public property to anyone—be they a foreign government or a citizen of the United States. The president insisted that an exchange was necessary. In a confidential memorandum of conversation, Cordell Hull complained that the British high commissioner in London had to be told this three times (the third time at a meeting on August 25 attended by the president himself) before this political reality sunk in.43 After this last meeting, Lord Lothian sent Hull a lengthy telegram to this effect. Lothian feared that Washington and London risked “getting at loggerheads” on “this awkward destroyer question.”44 The president had to satisfy congressional opinion that the United States was getting something meaningful in return for the destroyers. In this regard, Lothian thought that the base locations were “clearly of greater advantage to the security of the United States than the fifty destroyers.”45 He reminded his superiors that Admiral Stark had to be convinced to certify that the destroyers were no longer essential to national defense. Yet Lothian was cognizant that Churchill believed that British public opinion would not support a one-sided “bargain” of this kind. To this, he wrote: “Is not the way out of this dilemma to abandon altogether the idea that the transaction is in any way a bargain in which the consideration has to be defined on both sides? In point of fact there is and can be no parallel between the two halves of the transaction, and to try to make it a bargain is to spoil what would otherwise be a demonstration of mutual good-will between our two countries. . . .”46 A compromise was reached at the last moment that saw the ninety-nine-year leased bases in Newfoundland and Bermuda given as gifts to the United States and the bases in the Caribbean given in exchange for the destroyers. On September 2, Lord Lothian called on Cordell Hull’s apartment at seven o’clock in the evening where both men signed and exchanged notes regarding the destroyers-for-bases agreement. The president delivered his message to Congress the following morning. In his statement, Franklin D. Roosevelt hailed the exchange of diplomatic notes between Secretary of State Cordell Hull and the British ambassador, the Marquess of Lothian. The fifty destroyers were traded for bases in Newfoundland, Bermuda, Trinidad, Antigua, St. Lucia, Jamaica, British Guiana, and the Bahamas. Though the leased base sites in Newfoundland and Bermuda were officially “gifts— generously given and gladly received” and the “other bases mentioned have been acquired in exchange for fifty of our over-age destroyers,” this lastminute distinction was little more than rhetoric.47 In reality, all eight of the “base colonies” would be governed by the same political and legal framework agreed to.48

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The World’s Reaction to the Deal To be sure, the bases deal was headline news around the world.49 The president received thousands of letters, filling four archival boxes in his presidential library, in support of the bases deal. They spoke of “courage” and “noble service” and invoked words such as “farsighted” and “splendid,” many thanked the president.50 The media reaction in the United States was equally effusive. Time Magazine called the leased bases the equivalent to “five new battleships.”51 Within a week, Hanson W. Baldwin wrote two substantial articles in the New York Times on the deal. In the first article, he observed that the agreement not only implied a “far closer rapprochement” between the United States and Great Britain but it “also connotes a marked strengthening of the United States’ strategic position in the AtlanticCaribbean area.”52 In effect, the “American frontier” had been extended “to the Amazon River and the Grand Banks off Newfoundland.” The United States, Baldwin wrote, will “exercise virtually unchallengeable domination of the Caribbean area, and our outer bastions of defense will be emplaced in blue water 700 to 1,000 miles to the east of our position.”53 Baldwin expanded on these themes in the second article, going so far as to suggest that a “new chapter of world history was written last week— perhaps the most important chapter of our time.”54 The deal “sealed what in effect was an unofficial alliance between the English-speaking nations and brought the United States far closer than ever before to entry into the war.”55 The new bases, he added, altered the strategic situation in the Atlantic and the Caribbean. The United States had now secured all the Atlantic approaches to the Panama Canal. Above all, the deal gave the United States “mid-ocean Atlantic bastions similar to those we already possessed in the Pacific in Hawaii and its outlying islands.”56 This was no “mid-ocean Maginot Line,” however, “with its illusions of safety.” Rather, these bases made possible an “aggressive defense” of the Western Hemisphere. The singular importance of the destroyers-for-bases deal, as it was seen at this critical juncture, was evident in Roosevelt’s message to Congress. In it, he hailed the deal as the most important since the Louisiana Purchase.57 As noted already, this reference to Thomas Jefferson’s purchase of Louisiana from Napoleon Bonaparte in 1803 was quoted extensively in the press. Louisiana is one of history’s great real-estate transactions. What did this comparison suggest and why did it resonate? Once again I turn to the pages of the New York Times for an answer: The comparison had some point. In 1803, as today, the United States felt itself threatened by a European conqueror. President Thomas Jefferson, after hearing that Napoleon had forced Spain to concede to France the vast but undefined region of Louisiana, with its control of the economically important mouth of the Mississippi, wrote to the American Minister in Paris: “The day that France takes possession of new Orleans . . . seals the union of the two nations who in conjunction can maintain exclusive possession of the ocean. From that moment we must marry ourselves to the British fleet and nation.”58

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For the author of this article, the deal effectively married the United States to the “British fleet and nation.” Until Roosevelt’s “two ocean navy” could be built, there was no other option. The new network of bases promised to secure the eastern seaboard of the United States and the Caribbean approaches to the Panama Canal.59 To no one’s surprise, the British press hailed the deal as the dawn of a new day in Anglo-American relations. It was welcomed by the London Times as the “most conspicuous demonstration” yet of the American desire to help Great Britain.60 The conservative Daily Telegraph reported that the deal represented nothing less than “the most signal evidence yet manifested” by the United States of its resolve to “render every practical aid short of war.”61 The newspaper’s editors concluded that the deal furthered the interests of Great Britain and the United States. Indeed, it could be seen as the “seal and symbol of a mutual friendship” between the two. The Daily Mail, for its part, suggested that while the United States was not yet a belligerent in the war, that “no act of belligerency could cause Hitler more concern than this gesture. It is a sign that the United States means to help us to the limit. It is a portent of the final defeat of the Axis powers.”62 Other, more liberal, British newspapers agreed with the editors of the Manchester Guardian when they wrote that the deal was “one of the most important events in the history of the two countries.” The Liberal News Chronicle likewise saw the agreement as “perhaps, the greatest single step which has yet been taken toward a close, a developing and—in the end—a planet-changing cooperation between the British Empire and America.”63 The Daily Herald, the Labour Party’s organ, called the exchange a “gain of colossal magnitude.” In welcoming the agreement, British newspapers were careful to point out that the British Empire was not for sale. According to the Times, “there is no transfer of sovereignty, any more than there is when a West Indian landlord leases a house to an American tourist for the holiday season.”64 Thus the deal was hailed in Great Britain as a ray of sunlight in an otherwise dark time. Not every letter-writer or newspaper article was as enthusiastic, however. The New York-based West Indian Council, for example, took the position that the destroyers-for-bases deal was “violative of the rights of the inhabitants and contrary to the spirit of the Act of Havana.”65 Its president, W.A. Domingo, wanted an assurance that the United States would not introduce Jim Crow segregation in the islands, as it had in the Panama Canal Zone. The Inter-Caribbean Labor Party also weighed in to say that the deal was unlawful in that the colonies were bartered away for warships.66 Residents of the base colonies would have noted the frequent reference to the Caribbean as an “American lake” in press reports and the early comparison to the Louisiana Purchase would have likely reinforced fears that the deal was a prelude to the outright transfer of the colonies.67 Years later, Eric Williams, historian and future prime minister of Trinidad, said that the deal was done without the consent of the people of the West Indies.68 Noting that no Trinidad representative would have agreed to this arrangement, he said that “We never consented to be sold for scrap.”69

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How would Britain’s enemies react? Would they view this as a provocation, even as an act of war? It appears not. The German and Italian press emphasized instead that the deal was a lop-sided one in favor of the United States.70 So great was the imbalance, readers were told, that it represented nothing less than a humiliation for Great Britain. It sacrificed important parts of its empire and what remained of its international reputation for obsolete destroyers that were of little more value than scrap.71 Italy’s Giornale D’Italia, for example, adopted a tone of aggrieved contempt for what it labeled an undignified action of a once great world power that effectively sold its “imperial birthright” for “scrap iron.” German and Italian newspapers, like their American counterparts, published maps showing the strategic gains made by the United States. For its part, the Boersen Zeitung editorialized that the destroyers were warships and that America’s talk of neutrality was demonstrably false.72 On the whole, however, the military value of the destroyers was minimized in news coverage and there was speculation that the United States would negotiate additional bases in Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, the Falkland Islands, and in the Pacific (Singapore).73 Despite the triumphant tone of these articles, the German and Italian governments were deeply concerned. In September, German foreign minister Von Ribbentrop reportedly went to Italy to discuss the Anglo-American agreement.74 Through its diplomatic missions in the region, the U.S. State Department closely monitored the Latin American reaction to the Anglo-American deal. These consular reports were consolidated into a single memorandum dated September 10. According to U.S. consular staff, area governments generally approved the deal: The degree of approbation has varied from [a] non-committal indication of understanding to enthusiastic support. The latter attitude is best illustrated by the case of Argentina, where the Secretary of Foreign Affairs, the Minister of Finance, and other prominent persons in official positions “have expressed their admiration of the step in strong and unguarded terms.”75

Only in Ecuador and Bolivia did governmental officials reveal themselves to be “completely reserved in commenting upon the move.” The president of Guatemala, for his part, regretted that his country’s long-standing quarrel with British-controlled Belize was not included in the deal. Official opinion in Cuba, Haiti, and the Dominican Republic were all said to be highly favorable. Public opinion in Latin America, more generally, was deemed quite favorable to the deal. Extensive press coverage in the region, as elsewhere, accompanied the announcement. Editorial comment was divided into two categories by U.S. diplomatic observers. In the first were grouped prestigious metropolitan newspapers with large circulations who favored the deal with certain reservations. El Tiempo in Colombia, owned by the country’s president, welcomed the deal as the “most important event resulting from

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war for the entire Western Hemisphere.”76 Newspapers in the Caribbean islands were also reported to be favorable to the move. La Opinion of Ciudad Trujillo, for example, referred to the bases as a “semi-circle of fire and steel.”77 The second category of press reaction comprised smaller papers that favored the Nazi cause or were described as “communist organs.” It is hardly surprising that these newspapers denounced the agreement as an act of territorial aggression.78 Yet these oppositional voices were “drowned out by the generally favorable press reaction.”79 What then was the reaction to the deal in the British territories being called on to host U.S. bases? It is clear from the archival research conducted in Newfoundland, Bermuda, and Trinidad, as well as from the diplomatic correspondence held at the Public Record Office (PRO) and NAR A, and local press coverage, that the immediate reaction was mixed. To be sure, there was considerable pride in seeing their territories making world news. The Anglo-American agreement placed them on “the map,” so to speak, and confirmed their strategic value. Bermuda’s Royal Gazette and Colonist Daily, for example, noted on September 11 that the announcement brought the island “into the forefront of the news in America.”80 The news headlines were a welcome change. Hitherto, most of these territories were viewed as colonial backwaters or “imperial slums.” Yet there was considerable concern about the extent of U.S. demands for land, the location of the leased bases, and the likelihood of Jim Crow racism. What this meant for the territories was an open question. Several territories, particularly Newfoundland and Bermuda, were concerned by the lack of consultation. Like other colonial newspapers, the St. John’s Telegram reprinted stories first published in international newspapers and magazines. In February 1941, for example, soon after the arrival of U.S. troops in Newfoundland, a story written by Stanley Truman Brooks for the Christian Science Monitor appeared. It discussed the strategic importance of the new U.S. bases in Newfoundland. By preventing a European aggressor from exploiting this “vulnerable approach” to the east coast of North America, the bases guaranteed the security of the eastern seaboard of the United States.81 Only 1,000 miles, he noted, separated St. John’s from Boston. New York could be reached in just three hours in a “modern bomber.”82 The leased bases were invariably described in early media reports as forming a “crescent,” a “shield,” or even a “curving cutlass.”83 For America, the horizons widened with the Anglo-American destroyersfor-bases agreement. The bases formed a “zigzag line” that stretched 2,700 miles from St. John’s, Newfoundland to British Guiana “as the bomber flies.” The meaning of the new American bases was apparent “from the most cursory glance at the map. In terms of land warfare, these are outposts, set 700 to 1,000 miles east of our own territory. Look at the map and you will see that they supplement and complete the ring of fortifications and bases which the United States has patiently been building up for a generation to protect the Panama Canal, the keystone of our naval strategy.”84 The new defensive line would serve as important “stepping stones” in hemispheric defense.85

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The Greenslade Board and Hemispheric Defense U.S. defensive planning was coordinated by the Joint Planning Committee (JPC). On August 20, 1940, the JPC was directed to study the British possessions of Newfoundland, Bermuda, Bahamas, Jamaica, St. Lucia, Trinidad, and British Guiana (Antigua was added later) “with a view to determining the base facilities for both the Army and Navy of the United States which are required in each possession.”86 Specifically, the JPC was asked to recommend sites to be leased from the British government. Rainbow 4 was to frame this preliminary study in important respects. It was quickly decided that Newfoundland, Bermuda, and Trinidad would host major army, navy and air bases to defend the surrounding waters as well as to defend these strategic islands against possible attack. The other colonies would host smaller army garrisons, airfields, and navy seaplane bases. While Bermuda and Newfoundland “commanded” the air and sea approaches to the United States in the North and Central Atlantic respectively, Trinidad controlled access to the Southern Caribbean. British Guiana was useful primarily as a stepping stone to South America.87 The smaller bases in Antigua, St. Lucia, Jamaica, and the Bahamas were of secondary value (though the United States initially envisaged a larger establishment in Jamaica). The specific locations of the bases were not specified in the 2 September exchange of notes, but left to “common agreement.”88 To that end, President Roosevelt named a Board of Experts to survey suitable base locations.89 Chaired by Rear Admiral John W. Greenslade, the Board visited each of the base colonies during the months of September and October 1940. As the former head of the battleship division of the U.S. Navy, Greenslade brought a great deal of experience to the job.90 The senior member of the War Department on the Board of Experts was Brigadier General Jacob L. Devers, a former chief of staff of the Panama Canal Department.91 There were eleven members and advisors in all.92 The Board of Experts’ “Report on Adequacy and Future Development of the Naval Shore Establishment,” filed on January 6, 1941, noted that hemispheric defense required that the United States “render inviolate” against successful military attack the continents of North and South America, and protect the lines of communication between the countries of the Western Hemisphere.93 Rear Admiral Greenslade conceived of homeland defense in terms of geographic frontiers, beginning in the North Atlantic and rotating clockwise through the Middle Atlantic, South Atlantic, Caribbean, and so on.94 Naval operational needs required facilities for offensive and defensive operations “to be projected from groups of mutually supporting bases rather than from single positions.” The Board therefore recommended a string of army and navy bases anchored by Newfoundland in the north, Bermuda in the mid-Atlantic, and Trinidad in the south. All three sites would have naval operating bases, the latter two equipped to support carriers, patrol aircraft, cruisers, destroyers, anti-submarine forces, and submarines. The other base locations, which constituted a string of land and sea plane bases, would be

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used to patrol the vital Caribbean sea lanes that brought British Guianan bauxite as well as Venezuelan and Trinidadian oil to the United States and Great Britain. These bases would also act as a shield against any attack on the Panama Canal itself. The final report provided the basic blueprint for all base development outside the continental United States in the Western Hemisphere. Its plan for the defense of each of these possessions was premised on a centrally located and highly mobile force large enough to protect installations.95 This included both anti-aircraft guns and six-inch coastal gun batteries. How the Greenslade Board came to these conclusions was not a straightforward or simple affair. It involved visits to each of the base colonies and sometimes difficult negotiations with colonial authorities. The specific location of leased areas within individual British territories was a matter of some controversy. The British War Cabinet, for example, wanted to prevent the granting of leases within, or adjacent to, capital cities or principal towns: “To do so would almost certainly lead to political trouble and it seems possible that the U.S. authorities themselves may prefer to avoid sites in or near big centres of population.” 96 U.S. bases should likewise not interfere with Trinidad oil fields or cut rail and road links between the Bermuda capital and the naval Dockyard. The Newfoundland and Canadian governments, meanwhile, attempted to exclude the United States from Conception Bay (just northwest of the capital city of St. John’s) and the vital iron ore mines on Bell Island. Tension was greatest, however, in Bermuda and Trinidad where full-blown base location controversies raged. These stories will be explored in some detail in chapters two and eight. What this chapter will do now, is provide a short overview of the U.S. bases in each host territory before turning to the pressing security issues of unity of command and troop deployment. The Board of Experts did not waste any time in “sweeping into action.” 97 On September 3, 1940, the Board assembled aboard the cruiser St. Louis and set sail for Bermuda.98 This island colony, standing alone in the midAtlantic, held enormous strategic value as an air and naval base. Patrol planes based in the colony would be able to reach as far east as the Azores. The Greenslade Board concluded that a naval base at Bermuda was needed to guard against strategic surprise in the mid-Atlantic. The navy wanted shore facilities to support aircraft carriers, cruisers, destroyers, aircraft and submarines. According to Greenslade, “to get an idea of the importance of Bermuda in the defense of America in these times of long-range airplanes and warships, it is only necessary to appraise its geographical position. Bermuda is a natural American outpost.” 99 In other words, it was as simple as looking at a map. The British governor of Bermuda understood that the sheer magnitude of the American plan was predicated on a scale of attack “only possible if the British Fleet had been destroyed; in fact they aim at transforming Bermuda into a first class fortress.”100 Rear Admiral Greenslade and the other members of the Board of Experts faced stiff opposition to his base location proposals in Bermuda. The proposed

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army-navy base in the central part of Bermuda alongside the Great Sound provoked great passions, particularly among the island’s white elite whose livelihood was based on the tourist trade with rich Americans. This “surge of opposition” brought a return visit of the Board to Bermuda on October 24 to consider Bermuda’s proposal that the bases should be relocated to the Eastern End of the island chain.101 Although Greenslade reluctantly agreed to the new location, the U.S. Navy subsequently shifted its operations back to the Great Sound. Luckily, the next stop on the Board’s tour would prove to be one of the least controversial. In preparation for their journey to Newfoundland, Board members conferred with the newly formed United States-Canada Permanent Joint Board of Defence (PJBD) as well as the secretary of state and British ambassador in Washington. Newfoundland was seen as “ideally placed to defend this hemisphere from any attack by way of northern waters.”102 The Board of Experts arrived in St. John’s aboard the cruiser USS St. Louis in the early morning hours of Monday, September 16, 1940.103 The archival record of the Board’s visit to Newfoundland is instructive. Upon their arrival in St. John’s, the American experts sought to gather as much information as possible about local weather conditions and to obtain local maps. Rear Admiral Greenslade and other Board members met with the governor and the commissioners of government (Newfoundland, though a Dominion, was governed by an unelected commission of six men appointed by London), while two other members of the Board made an aerial reconnaissance of the area. Greenslade promised the governor that the United States had no desire to “interfere with local life and interests in our establishments in Newfoundland.”104 He likewise told them that the United States wished to locate a naval air base either on the southern coast or on the Avalon Peninsula (including a light naval operating base for berthing, replenishing and repairing destroyers and submarines); army garrisons to defend the naval facilities as well as for the defense of the St. John’s area. He also expressed an interest in a small staging field for land planes in the vicinity of Port aux Basques on the island’s west coast. The subsequent question period saw a government commissioner ask if it was possible to combine their naval and army bases. To this, Greenslade replied that the Americans hoped to use St. John’s harbor for their naval operations. The idea of using St. John’s harbor, already teaming with merchant vessels and convoy escorts, was not a popular one. Governor Walwyn urged Greenslade to look elsewhere: “We believe Placentia and Argentia are preferable for naval bases because St. John’s is so crowded.” Greenslade admitted that he had other places in mind. The United States eventually settled on building its naval base at Argentia on Placentia Bay, across the Avalon Peninsula from St. John’s. The location of the army garrison was a matter of some negotiation. The United States intended to station one reinforced infantry battalion of 2,200 men somewhere on the Avalon Peninsula. Greenslade indicated that he remained open-minded as to where this base would be located, only requiring

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that it had to be on the railway line and have its own harbor. The Board debated whether to place the entire battalion of troops on the outskirts of St. John’s or at Argentia, resolving to place troops in both locations. The members of the Board inspected the St. John’s waterfront and determined that the minimum U.S. requirements would be 1,200 feet of water frontage, to supply the army base. On September 19, an aerial reconnaissance of much of the area was undertaken and the U.S. team conferred with the Canadians at Gander, Newfoundland’s one aerodrome. By this time, the Board had resolved on Argentia. For a time, the location of the St. John’s army base remained up in the air with the United States preferring a 160-acre area South of St. John’s. On day five, September 20, the Board prepared a memorandum to Newfoundland’s governor detailing the base requirements. The United States indicated that it intended to build a combined army-navy base at Argentia, an Army base and docks at St. John’s, and a staging field on the West Coast. General Devers then left by airplane for the West Coast to inspect the proposed site at Stephenville. On the sixth and final day of the Newfoundland visit, a final meeting between Governor Walwyn and the U.S. experts was held at Government House. When it became clear that the United States still sought to locate their dock on the busy southwest arm of St. John’s harbor and the army base south of the city, the governor urged the Board to select a site at Pleasantville alongside Quidi Vidi Lake and build its supply docks on the northeast side of the harbor where “The Battery” fishing village stood. At this point, Lieutenant Colonel Arthur, a member of the Board, passed Greenslade a note which he then read aloud: “By all means ask for one hundred sixty acres more or less generally along north side of Quidi Vidi Lake, extending back to, but not including, golf course. Many advantages, few houses only affected and little farmed.” With this concession, the locations of the army and navy bases in Newfoundland were fixed. Departing Newfoundland, the Greenslade Board set out for the British Caribbean. It conducted a one-day aerial inspection of the Bahamas on October 1 with one stop at Nassau to meet the governor. That night they boarded the St. Louis at Guantanamo Bay and sailed for Jamaica. The Board arrived in Kingston, Jamaica on the morning of October 4 and stayed in the vicinity until October 7 when the ship set sail for Trinidad. The vessel arrived in Port of Spain on October 10 before bringing the Board members to British Guiana. The St. Louis proceeded to St Lucia on October 17 and then to Antigua (one day each). On October 24 the Board returned to Bermuda to consider an alternative site proposed by the island’s government. The tour ended on October 27 with their return to Washington. As already noted, Trinidad’s geographic location commanding the southern gateway to the Caribbean was vital to U.S. strategists. When the St. Louis arrived in Trinidad, Rear Admiral Greenslade communicated to Governor H.W. Young that the United States required a fleet anchorage of twelve square miles, an adjacent fleet base with dry docks for battleships,

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fleet supply depot, seaplane base, a landing field, as well as areas for the defense of the island.105 Upon touring the island, he recommended that a twelve square mile area encompassing the Northwest Peninsula, bounded by the Gulf of Paria and Caribbean Sea, be leased for the proposed naval operating base and naval air station.106 The proposed area would therefore be sided on three sides by water and a chain of jungle clad hills to the east. The army bases were to be located in the island’s central interior and an auxiliary landing field would be built nearby at Chaguanas.107 In Port of Spain itself, the United States requested 1,200 feet of wharfage and two transit sheds. The Gulf of Paria provided ample fleet anchorage with excellent seaplane bases. The colonial governor of Trinidad, Sir Hubert Winthrop Young, supported by his Executive Council, strongly objected to the proposed location of the naval base and urged the United States to locate its proposed army and navy bases in the Caroni Swamp to the south of Port of Spain.108 The North West Peninsula could not be surrendered, he argued, because of its prized bathing beaches—the only ones within easy reach of Port of Spain. This was no trivial matter as the loss of these “health-giving amenities,” enjoyed by the population for generations, was a potential threat to public health.109 Even the British secretary of state for the colonies felt that the Trinidadians had a legitimate grievance. Further, he made it clear that Greenslade was “somewhat brusque and tactless” in presenting his views.110 The U.S. government nonetheless refused to consider the Caroni Swamp, arguing that the time and money required to reclaim the area would be prohibitive. The “protracted and somewhat acrimonious negotiations” between the two over the location of the naval base delayed its construction.111 Despite these delays, base construction advanced rapidly once started. With the anti-submarine war in the Caribbean intensifying in early 1942, the United States decided to expand the naval base by another 3,800 acres (from the original 7,940). The U.S. Army and Navy’s presence in Trinidad grew accordingly. In April 1943, there were over 6,800 sailors and 14,000 soldiers stationed on the island.112 The Trinidad bases, which provided facilities for escorts, air reconnaissance, convoy assembly, fleet anchorage, and air transport—played a key role in anti-submarine warfare in the Caribbean. By 1945, the naval facilities had cost a staggering $45,704,394 to construct.113 It is therefore no surprise that Admiral Greenslade called Trinidad the “southern keystone” of hemispheric defense.114 If Trinidad was one of the “keystones” of U.S. defense, the other Caribbean bases were more like stepping stones. The U.S. Navy established a string of naval air stations (capable of servicing twelve seaplanes each) to patrol the strategically important sea lanes in the vicinity of Antigua, St. Lucia, British Guiana, Great Exuma Island in the Bahamas, and Little Goat Island just off the coast of Jamaica.115 At the height of submarine activity in the Caribbean Sea in 1942–43, each of these modest facilities had a complement of only a few hundred marines and naval personnel. The seaplane base at St. Lucia also had the important job of aerial surveillance over the Vichy French fleet at

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neighboring Martinique. Admiral Robert commanded a cruiser, an aircraft carrier and other French vessels. The strategic importance of British Guiana, meanwhile, was three-fold. Like the others, it provided a base for patrol planes in anti-submarine operations. In addition, it could be used as a base of operations should Germany establish itself in French or Dutch Guiana and represented a stepping stone to South America. The changing situation in

Figure 1.1

Map of St. Lucia with Base Locations.

Source: File: PSF. Navy: Destroyers and Naval Bases, 1940 part II. Box 62. Franklin D. Roosevelt Library.

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Europe and North Africa, however, resulted in it being reduced to care and maintenance status by 1944. In addition to the seaplane bases, the U.S. Army built landing fields and facilities for a small garrison in each base colony. Initially, Greenslade envisioned a Fleet Anchorage at Jamaica’s Portland Bight, and other expansive facilities, but the United States abandoned these plans. A patrol plane (sea) base and an airfield were built in St. Lucia at opposite ends of the island—as there was only one place on the island available for each function. The main defense forces were to be located at the navy seaplane base on 120 acres of land on Gros Islet Bay in the North West corner of the island “because of its more healthful location.” Antigua would host a seaplane base and an airfield on Parham Sound. These were small establishments capable of expansion if the need arose.116 The U.S. naval air station in British Guiana was located near the mouth of the Essequibo River; whereas the army built a landing field up the Demerara River at Hyde Park. Between 1940 and 1945, the U.S. Navy’s Bureau of Yards and Docks supervised the building of more than 400 advanced bases at a total cost of over two billion dollars (U.S.).117 Of the eighteen naval bases located on foreign soil, only six did not have to be captured from the enemy. Three of these six were the ninety-nine-year bases in Newfoundland, Bermuda, and Trinidad. The Politics of Command and Deployment The nature of the military threat in the Atlantic Ocean and Caribbean Sea in the Second World War was limited to surface raiders, submarines and, as a remote possibility, aircraft. While the threat of invasion, such as it was, had passed by December 1940, two problems arose almost immediately. The first related to “unity of command,” namely, who was in charge, militarily. The bases agreement gave the visiting U.S. forces the right to defend the bases, but what of the colonies themselves? Under the British colonial system, the governor acted as commander in chief.118 The matter was further complicated by the fact that the United States was not at war until December 1941. The second issue that arose related to troop deployment. As the U.S. Army and Navy remained segregated, would they station “white” or “colored” units in the leased areas? Later in the war, the issue centered on the use of Puerto Rican troops—who were treated as “white” by the U.S. Army, but whose presence raised political questions in Trinidad and elsewhere in the British Caribbean. The base colonies were only lightly defended before the coming of the Americans. Unwilling to raise a West Indian Regiment as it had in the First World War, the British depended on local militia units and the police. The local police in the Bahamas, for example, were equipped with rifles and a few machine guns, but had no anti-aircraft guns or coastal guns of any kind.119 The same situation prevailed in British Guiana and St. Lucia.120 In Trinidad, a local force of two hundred men armed with rifles, a few machine guns, two anti-aircraft guns, and one searchlight were deployed in the oil fields

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(the single major source of petroleum for Great Britain). Only in Jamaica, where Canada provided a battalion of troops, 600 strong, was there a significant military presence.121 While the troops were there to guard against civil unrest, Kingston harbor was nonetheless equipped with an examination ship, four coastal batteries and a searchlight but no anti-submarine nets or booms. The Canadians, at war since September 1939, stationed thousands of soldiers, sailors and airmen in Newfoundland. The Royal Canadian Air Force, for example, turned the Newfoundland Airport at Gander into an air base and took over operation of the seaplane base at Botwood. Canada also decided to construct new aerodromes at St. John’s and Goose Bay, Labrador. A massive naval complex was likewise built in St. John’s harbor to serve the needs of Canada’s convoy escorts. Canadian infantry units (first Englishspeaking units and then French-speaking ones) were also deployed on the island. Yet in September 1940 there was still a critical shortage of anti-aircraft guns and coastal batteries.122 Much the same situation prevailed in Bermuda where the armed services of Canada and Great Britain had a modest presence. With the coming of the U.S. Army and Navy, the matter of unity of command took on new urgency. In September 1940, a British Joint Staff Mission met with their U.S. counterparts to discuss defense arrangements in the base colonies. The negotiations were heated on several points: The refusal of the United States naval authorities to consider placing Naval Aviation under the operational control of an officer of another Service on the one hand, and the reluctance on the part of the U.S. Army authorities to place the Army Air Corps under the operational control of the Royal Air Force on the other, made it impossible to reach agreement on the question of unified command of air forces.123

The agreement created “Local Combined Defence Committees” in each territory to coordinate defense plans. While it was the responsibility of the British authorities to maintain internal security, in the event of civil disturbance, the armed forces of the United States could be prevailed upon. Overall command of combined local defense forces in any given place would be assumed by the nation with numerical superiority in personnel. This policy meant that the ranking U.S. officer commanded everywhere in the Caribbean, except in Jamaica where the troop strength of British forces remained above American levels.124 The command relation in Jamaica proved to be controversial as the United States did not want to take orders from the ranking British officer. The U.S. Navy only reluctantly agreed to British leadership in view of the present strategic position in the Atlantic and the local political situation in Jamaica. Their agreement applied to Bermuda and the British Caribbean; the command situation in Newfoundland would be resolved by the U.S.-Canada Permanent Joint Board of Defence.

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The question of command was complicated in Newfoundland by the presence of a large contingent of Canadian servicemen and by Canada’s claim to a special interest in the defense of the island. In September 1940, General Devers conferred with various officials in the Newfoundland Commission of Government as well as the naval officer in charge of St. John’s and the officer commanding the Newfoundland militia during the visit of the Greenslade Board. In doing so, he noted that there was an understanding between Canada and the United States that they would be guided by the defense plans developed by the PJBD vis-à-vis Newfoundland. Yet Devers admitted that “the question of Command will arise and is not settled.” The Anglo-American leased bases agreement of March 1941 therefore included a protocol (#6) that clarified the command structure in Newfoundland. According to the protocol, the United States and Great Britain recognized that the defense of Newfoundland was an “integral feature of the Canadian scheme of defence” and indicated that Canadian defense interests would be respected. Another thorny issue was that of troop deployment. It was still the policy of the U.S. War Department to racially segregate its Army units. Assistant secretary of war, Robert P. Patterson, told President Roosevelt on October 8, 1940 that this policy had “proven satisfactory over a long period of years and to make changes would produce situations destructive to morale and detrimental to the preparation for national defense.”125 It was agreed that African Americans could command newly created units, but preexisting “Colored” units would continue to be commanded by white officers. The U.S. Army faced a great deal of resistance whenever it stationed African American troops in allied countries. According to Ulysses Lee, the army historian who authored The Employment of Negro Troops, the governors of the base colonies were “especially apprehensive lest the balance of colonial authority be disturbed by the arrival of well-paid and well-clothed American Negro troops.”126 Lee noted that a delegation from Bermuda raised the issue during its September 1940 visit to Washington, DC. British colonial governments made it abundantly clear that they did not want African American servicemen or nonwhite civilian workers brought in.127 No less of an authority as General Dwight D. Eisenhower noted that British authorities in Trinidad were strongly opposed to the assignment of blacks to the island.128 The reasons for this exclusionary policy varied. In the Caribbean, colonial authorities worried about local reaction to seeing well paid and uniformed African American men. A few officials cited the inevitable contest for women. Despite official protests, the 99th Coastal Artillery (colored) unit was stationed in Trinidad until a series of unfortunate incidents, including a shooting, resulted in its early redeployment out of the region.129 Trinidad Governor Clifford had opposed their deployment in April 1942 and used the “Basilon Street” brawl to demand their removal.130 The African American troops were blamed by the island’s white elite for everything from crime to social disruption. In truth, they complicated race relations in the West Indies. Bermuda proved to be equally adamant. In the white Dominion of

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Newfoundland, officials worried instead about racial mixing. As late as 1949, the American consul general reported that Newfoundland authorities had “indicated unofficially their objections to having Negro Armed Forces personnel stationed here.”131 The racial politics of troop deployment, in the context of Anglo-American relations, was at its most obvious in 1943 when the U.S. Army decided to rotate white units from the Continental United States out of the Caribbean and replace them with Puerto Rican troops. In response to this news and the continued presence of African American troops in Trinidad, the British ambassador submitted an Aide Memoire to the U.S. Department of State, dated July 14, 1943, that questioned this policy. Upon receipt of the Aide Memoire, Foster Dulles referred the matter to the War Department that subsequently advised that given the “delicacy of the subject” the matter was not appropriate for discussion in diplomatic channels. Dulles and Secretary Hull asked the President to informally request that the British withdraw the Aide Memoire “so that it should not be a part of any written record.”132 He warned of serious repercussions should the contents of the Aide Memoire be leaked. A written notation from the President on the top of the page read: “I agree with you.” In October 1943, Sir Ronald Campbell of the British Embassy in Washington met with A.A. Berle, Jr., from the State Department about the matter. Campbell hoped that African American troops would be withdrawn from Trinidad before the end of the year; and that future decisions to station either black or Puerto Rican troops in the British Caribbean would be subject to diplomatic consultation. To his surprise, Berle defended the use of Puerto Rican troops in the region, saying that they were “well liked” and would get along as well as “American troops.”133 In this context, “American” equaled white. Ignoring British objections, the United States implemented its policy to replace white American troops stationed in the Caribbean with Puerto Ricans. In accordance with this strategy to free up white troops to fight in 1943, the United States began to replace “continental units” with “Puerto Rican troops” at the garrisons in Panama, Trinidad, St. Lucia, British Guiana, Curacao, Aruba, and Surinam. Race loomed large, however: “The replacements selected for this purpose have been white, English-speaking Puerto Ricans with a good educational standard, who are fully capable of performing their military mission at those bases.”134 The United States also planned to undertake a similar rotation of small guard and service units in Antigua and Jamaica. The British strongly argued against the use of Puerto Rican troops in the leased areas. Despite its misgivings, the U.S. State Department acceded to the British request that the handling of the racial politics of troop deployment in the British Caribbean be a matter of diplomatic discussion and “not strictly Army discussion.”135 A senior U.S. Army officer noted that, “We have crawfished on this, indicating that experience might show that Puerto Rican troops were more satisfactory in many ways to the local populations than troops from the mainland. I think our first job is to convince the Army that

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this has to be discussed between Governments rather than between Army officers.”136 The British also demanded the transfer of the 99th Coastal Artillery unit out of Trinidad by the end of 1943. In November 1943, A.A. Berle met with Lt. General J.T. McNarney and Colonel Nelson to discuss the stationing of Puerto Rican troops in the British Caribbean. McNarney stated the position of the War Department “succinctly and with force.” He told Berle in no uncertain terms that “they were going to use Puerto Rican troops and that was all there was about it. This was war, and they did not propose to discuss whether or what troops should be used in fulfilling their responsibility for the defense of these bases. The Puerto Rican troops were available for this purpose, thereby releasing continental troops. Accordingly, they were going to be used and that was all there was to it.”137 Further, McNarney felt the “real animus” for this proposal came from the Colonial Office because the “Americans treated the Puerto Ricans as white equals. The British looked on them as ‘natives’ and disliked the effect of Puerto Rican troops being treated on terms of equality with the white population, rather than with the ‘native’ population of these islands.” To this, Berle responded that it had been agreed in the AngloAmerican Leased Bases Agreement that troop deployment was a matter of diplomatic negotiation. The General said this was fine in peacetime, but this was war and the troops would go where they were needed. In conclusion, Berle noted that black troops would be withdrawn from Trinidad in early 1944 when there was shipping available; Puerto Ricans would replace white American troops; and that any discussion of postwar troop deployment should be delayed. Upon receipt of this Memorandum of Conversation, Hickerson concluded that the State Department had no choice but to support the position of the War Department.138 A secret memorandum from Charles Taussig, chairman of the U.S. section of the Anglo-American Caribbean Commission, dated January 5, 1944, also conveyed British concern over the stationing of Puerto Rican troops in their colonies. Taussig met with Lt. General J.T. McNarney who reiterated the stand of the Army on this matter. The general again stated his belief that the British complaint was based on a “mistaken racial problem, and explained to me that Puerto Rican troops stationed in the Caribbean were white.”139 Taussig stated that certain British governors, particularly former governor Richards in Jamaica, feared that the Puerto Rican troops would “start political agitation.” Taussig asked if the War Department would remove any soldier found to have injected himself into a “local political situation.” The General was agreeable to this idea. Taussig felt that this concession would satisfy the new governor of Jamaica. The ongoing tensions surrounding race and troop deployment are taken up again in subsequent chapters, particularly in chapters four and seven. The race issue loomed over every issue, large and small, in the base colonies. By the time that Eleanor Roosevelt visited the region in March 1944, there were sizeable contingents of Puerto Rican soldiers stationed in the Caribbean base colonies. Table 1.1 of troop strengths compiled for her

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Table 1.1 Strengths of Army-Navy Bases in Suggested Itinerary of Eleanor Roosevelt’s March 1944 Tour (Selected) Station Panama Trinidad Georgetown St. Lucia Antigua Puerto Rico Jamaica

Continental Army

P.R. Army

Navy

Total

33,118 7,797 649 680 898 12,627 839

10,862 3,336 204 387 235 8,183 235

9,004 8,168 273 0 79 4,663 109

52,984 19,301 1,126 1,067 1,212 25,473 1,183

Source: “Strengths of Army-Navy Bases in Suggested Itinerary,” File: Itineraries, Box 2984, Eleanor Roosevelt Papers. FDR Library.

benefit showed that Puerto Ricans represented a large minority of U.S. servicemen stationed in Trinidad, St. Lucia, Antigua, British Guiana, and Jamaica. By all accounts, the Puerto Rican soldiers were far more successful than continental Americans in forging good relations with the residents of the base colonies. This move, combined with the introduction of civilian guards at the gates of the navy bases in the region, served to depoliticize the race issue in large part. The incoming Americans, stereotyped as exclusively white, except for an African American anti-aircraft unit stationed in Trinidad, thus represents only part of the story.140 Conclusion In December 1940, President Roosevelt conducted an eleven-day inspection tour of his new Caribbean possessions on board the cruiser Tuscaloosa, accompanied by two destroyers.141 At the press conference that followed, he likened the leased bases to “stepping-stones good for three things—namely, sea planes, land planes and ships.”142 The Board of Naval Experts, or the Greenslade Commission as it was known, recommended a string of army and navy bases anchored by Newfoundland in the north, Bermuda in the midAtlantic, and Trinidad in the south. The objective was to “render inviolate” against successful military attack the continents of North and South America and to protect the lines of communication between the countries of the Western Hemisphere. The bases agreement was hailed, at the time, as an important “milestone” in American history: In a defensive sense this country and this hemisphere may be said to lie behind the “moats” of the oceans; we occupy, strategically, much of the same place that Britain occupied in the nineteenth century. Moated by the seas, this hemisphere must today depend upon sea power—control of those seas and of what passes across them and above them for its primary security. But today sea power must be aided by air power. . . . In a war on a two-ocean front—an attack upon us by a combination of powers in Atlantic and Pacific—we would possess the advantage of operating from a center of a circle against enemies operating on the periphery. We would possess that advantage in a naval sense only as

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long as the Panama Canal was open to our fleet. To protect the canal, therefore, air and naval bases, in turn defended by great forces of men and guns, dot the Caribbean’s outer rim, while in the Pacific the Galapagos and Cocos Islands figure predominantly in war plans.143

The leased bases gave the United States a newfound sense of security. In the Atlantic, the oceanic moat is “most nearly bridged where Brazil shoulders out toward Africa. In the north, where Newfoundland reaches out toward Europe, with Greenland and Iceland providing Arctic stepping stones, is another narrow passage, while the central area, Bermuda, within flying distance of Portugal’s Azores, and the chain of islands stretching from Puerto Rico to British Guiana are natural sites for naval and air bases.”144 In the next chapter, we shift our perspective from the geopolitics of hemispheric defense to the controversy surrounding base location and removal in Bermuda.

Chapter 2

The Tourism Politics of Base Location in Bermuda

Days passed—and nights; and then the beautiful Bermudas rose out of the sea, we entered the tortuous channel, steamed hither and thither among the bright summer islands, and rested at last under the flag of England and were welcome . . . . A few days among the breezing groves, the flower gardens, the coral caves, and the lovely vistas of blue water that went curving in and out, disappearing and anon again appearing through jungle walls of brilliant foliage, restored the energies dulled by long drowsing on the ocean, and fitted us for our final cruise—our little run of a thousand miles to New York—America—Home. Mark Twain, The Innocents Abroad

Bermuda stands alone in the mid-Atlantic, 750 nautical miles southeast of

New York City. The “fish hook” shaped archipelago consists of a string of sixty small islands of coral formation fifteen miles long. The warm currents of the Gulf Stream have produced a subtropical climate rich in vegetation and fertile soil. Hilly and uneven, the entire land area of Bermuda was a mere 19.4 square miles before the building of the U.S. bases. First sighted by the Spanish in the early sixteenth century, the islands remained unoccupied for another century due to the surrounding coral reefs. Dozens of sailing ships met their end in these treacherous waters. It is fitting, therefore, that Bermuda’s history of human settlement began with the wreck of the Virginiabound Sea Venture in 1609. Due to its physical distance from North America and the Caribbean, and its status as a colony of Great Britain, few historians have incorporated Bermuda into their scholarship. One might say that Bermuda is the “lost colony” of the Atlantic World.1 Be it lost or found, Bermuda has undergone a series of fundamental shifts in its economic orientation since its accidental discovery. It began as an agricultural colony under charter to the Somers Island Company. During the company’s tenure, Bermuda became a major exporter of slave-produced tobacco. Its dissolution in 1684 sparked a maritime revolution. The resulting reorientation of Bermuda’s economy away from the land and towards the sea brought profound changes to the island’s landscape and society. In short

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order, tobacco fields were replaced by groves of cedar trees to supply the colony’s thriving shipbuilding industry. Fully 90 percent of the land was reforested, according to historian Michael Jarvis. A second wave of change swept over Bermuda in the wake of the American Revolution with the influx of Loyalist refugees and the militarization of the colony. In 1795, the Royal Navy established a dockyard—the largest outside of Great Britain—on Ireland Island at the western tip of the archipelago. It was at this critical juncture that the colony’s economic and political center of gravity shifted from the East End to the center and West End. In consequence, the island’s capital was moved from St. George’s to Hamilton on the Great Sound. The new town site was nothing like the old: laid out, as it was, in an orderly grid with fifty-foot wide streets. With the nineteenth century shift from sail to steam, the island’s shipbuilding industry fell into decline forcing many to return to agriculture. These were not the plantations of old; however, as slavery had been abolished in the 1830s, but mixed farming. Bermuda became the market garden of New York City and other cities on the U.S. eastern seaboard. Its strategic location and mild climate gave Bermudians a virtual monopoly on the selling of fruit, vegetables, and cut flowers in the spring months of April and May. Steam ships likewise made Bermuda more accessible than ever to American tourists. A trickle of nineteenth-century American travelers, such as Mark Twain, found their way to Bermuda in search of rest. They were not disappointed. “Chameleon-like,” historian Michael Jarvis concludes, “the tiny colony continued to flexibly reorganize its economic activities to suit conditions in the changing Atlantic world.”2 Yet Bermuda proved far less chameleon-like in the twentieth century. The colony’s nascent tourist industry crashed in 1914 with the outbreak of war in Europe. Its steamship lifeline to the North American continent was cut by submarine activity, leaving the island temporarily isolated. The interwar period saw Bermuda’s resurgent tourism industry supplant the troubled farm sector. First, Bermuda’s citrus fruit growers fell victim to the ravages of the Mediterranean fruit fly. Then, its vegetable producers fell to American protectionism in the form of the Hawley-Smoot Tariff of 1930. Only lily bulbs and cut flowers continued to be exported to the United States in quantity. As a result, the acreage under cultivation in Bermuda dropped precipitously from an estimated 5,000 acres to just 1,400.3 With the decline of Bermuda’s farm sector, the colony’s dependence on tourism revenue grew. The centrality of the island’s tourist industry proved to be pivotal in determining how the colonial government responded to the Second World War. While tourism transformed Bermuda’s economy, society, identity, and landscape during the interwar period, the colonial elite defended its huge investments in the tourist economy with verve during the war years. When the United States proposed to build a massive combined army-navy base adjacent to the Great Sound, in the heart of the tourist resort, Bermuda’s mercantile elite refused to “flexibly reorganize” its activities. To the contrary, it ferociously resisted this decision with all its might. The base location

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controversy was only resolved when the United States reluctantly agreed to relocate its proposed base to St. David’s Island, located at the east end of the colony. It was no coincidence that this island, which still relied on farming, had yet to be transformed into a tourist haven. It is likewise no coincidence that the island’s inhabitants had a reputation for not being entirely “white.” We will explore how the tourist aesthetic underpinned notions of property value and thus determined the nature and level of compensation to displaced persons. A competing settler discourse of lost income and disturbance did not stand a chance. The Making of an Island Resort The selling of the seaside was a serious and highly profitable business. Great hotels, strategically located at scenic locations, offered affluent tourists a variety of indoor and outdoor activities throughout the Atlantic World. The “social tone” of seaside resort towns in the United States, for example, varied considerably. Atlantic City dominated domestic tourism before the rise of Florida, California, and Las Vegas. More exclusive seaside settlements developed in Newport, Rhode Island and Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard, both in Massachusetts. Many elite families in the northeast decamped from the big cities during the hot summer months—in the manner of the British aristocracy—and went to their seaside cottage or resort.4 The building of railroads in the nineteenth century and highways for automobiles in the twentieth opened many seaside resorts to the masses. As elite tourism gave way to mass tourism, America’s wealthy went further afield. In addition to its sandy beaches and temperate year-round climate, Bermuda had the distinct advantage of being an island colony. Ordinary Americans could not hop into their cars and drive there. Bermuda therefore stood near the pinnacle of the resort hierarchy in the 1910s and 1920s. Mark Twain and Woodrow Wilson stayed there on a regular basis, as did Babe Ruth. The society pages of the New York Times were filled with stories about the American colony in Bermuda: marriages, sporting matches, and the usual comings and goings. The tourist sensibility was overwhelmingly a romantic one. It placed value on feeling, imagination and the search for “authentic” experience.5 The published travel narratives of American visitors to Bermuda therefore provide an opportunity to see what these visitors saw. “Everybody [here] is lazy,” wrote Julia Dorr in 1893. Yet it was a “very charming laziness.”6 Bermuda was a place of sleepy digressions, where “courtesy is the rule” and “everything is done gradually.” It was a “lovely, dreamy, restful land.” A place of palatial hotels, well kept grounds, and snow white stone homes of coral formation. If this account and others like it are to be believed, there was no squalor or want on display; no “tumble-down shanties” to ruin the view. Traveler accounts painted a similarly soft portrait of the island’s race relations. It was not unusual for visitors to comment approvingly on the apparent docility and contentedness of black Bermudians.7 It was a place

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where even Julia Dorr’s “daintily dressed” black washing woman had the “speech and carriage of a duchess.”8 Race segregation existed in Bermuda (see chapter 5), but without the signage that demarcated the color line in the southern United States. Some American visitors therefore likened race relations in Bermuda to those that were thought to once prevail in the Old South—when African Americans, presumably, knew their place. Class also mattered. Founded in the seventeenth century, Bermuda prided itself on having one of the oldest parliaments in the British Empire, second only to Westminster itself. It was not a Crown Colony and so enjoyed special status within the Empire. This virtually self-governing colony possessed an elected House of Assembly and an appointed Legislative Council.9 The thirty-six members of the House of Assembly were elected every five years from Bermuda’s nine parishes (four from each).10 The vote was limited, however, to a small number of qualifying male residents who had freehold property with a value of at least 60 pounds. The property qualification allowed the white minority to dominate elections in which only 8 percent of adults were eligible to vote. The vast majority of these voters were white, even though they accounted for only 40 percent of the population.11 Political power in Bermuda was therefore monopolized by a small group of white merchants, bankers and landowners. Scholars of tourism have noted that many social conventions become more stringently adhered to and policed in a hotel environment. In resort islands such as Bermuda, these social controls extended beyond hotel property to encompass many parts of the island.12 For example, motor vehicles were banned early on from the isles of rest. In a story that is stranger than fiction, author Mark Twain convinced future U.S. president Woodrow Wilson, both frequent sojourners in Bermuda, to draft a petition demanding that motor vehicles be banned in the colony. The petition, signed by over one hundred prominent American visitors, stated that allowing automobiles onto Bermuda roads was nothing short of an affront “to persons of taste and cultivation.” For Twain, Wilson, and the others: “This is one of the last refuges now left in the world to which one can come to escape such persons.”13 The petition had the desired effect: the Motor Car Bill of 1908 banned all motorized vehicles. The prohibition would only be repealed in 1946, as a direct result of the war and the growing number of U.S. military vehicles on the roads. Until then, Bermuda attempted to live up to its reputation as a refuge from the noise and bustle of modern life. In the ban on motorized vehicles, colonial elites demonstrated their willingness to use the power of the state to enforce what historian Duncan McDowall has called the “Bermuda Aesthetic.”14 Bermuda’s picturesque landscape, temperate climate, beautiful seascape, old-worldliness, and its recreational facilities were all selling points. To help disseminate its message, Bermuda’s merchants and the colonial state enlisted photographers, journalists, artists, and lecturers. The Bermuda government did not want just anyone, however. From the outset, Bermuda’s all-white Trade Development Board sought “quality” rather than “quantity.”15 Only wealthy

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white North Americans need come. No tourist hotel accepted African Americans in Bermuda and anti-Semitism was so bad in the 1920s and 1930s that American travel agents created a coding system to identify which hotels and guest houses accepted gentiles only (the oleander symbol) and those willing to take-in Jewish Americans (the hibiscus).16 The “aesthetic mission” of the Trade Development Board caused a profound transformation of Bermuda’s physical environment during the two inter-war decades. Large land areas were converted in the 1920s to tourist recreation, including golf courses at Riddell’s Bay and the Tucker’s Town development, a closed community for the exclusive use of expatriate Americans. The scheme saw the building of a golf course, a resort hotel, and a residential enclave; Mid-Ocean golf memberships were carefully screened and cost $2,500. Fully 510 acres were removed from public use at a time of rapid population growth.17 There was a strong racial dimension to these developments. In transferring a huge swathe of land to wealthy white foreigners, the Tucker’s Town scheme displaced 400 black Bermudians—fishermen, shipbuilders, and small farmers, mainly.18 When some residents resisted, tourist promoters such as Stanley Spurling were livid. In a fit of rage, Spurling said that the black residents of Tucker’s Town were “undoubtedly going backwards, the standard of morality, the standard of the people themselves was receding.”19 For the white members of the House of Assembly, anyone opposed to the development was against progress itself. Sadly, this would not be the last time that black Bermudians would be required to sacrifice their homes for the tourist economy. The Base Location Controversy The outbreak of war in 1939 devastated the tourist economy. The number of North American tourists venturing into the mid-Atlantic dropped from 80,000 visitors per year before the war to fewer than 1,000 a month in 1940. The great hotels stood empty, golf courses were virtually deserted and the high-end shops in Hamilton had a forlorn appearance. On the eve of the destroyers-for-bases deal, and in response to rumored U.S. defense needs, the Bermuda Assembly adopted a motion on September 2, 1940 that the colonial government would act to preserve Bermuda’s “natural beauty and amenities so that the substantial investment of local capital in hotels and other enterprises incidental to the Colony’s peace time pursuits may not be imperiled.” Could tourist hotels and bases co-exist? Bermuda’s tourist promoters and merchant elite did not think so. The Board of Experts headed by Rear Admiral John W. Greenslade, appointed by the U.S. president himself, boarded the cruiser St. Louis and set sail for Bermuda one day after the destroyers-for-bases deal was announced. The St. Louis arrived in Hamilton harbor on the morning of September 5 and docked at No. 1 shed before a crowd of 10,000. The American experts “dallied only long enough to pay and to receive formal calls” from the Governor, Lt. General Sir Denis Bernard, and the British naval commander.

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The massive scale and scope of American ambitions in Bermuda became clear when Greenslade read aloud an extensive list of requirements at the first meeting. The U.S. Navy wanted shore facilities to support aircraft carriers, cruisers, destroyers, aircraft, and submarines. The U.S. Army sought an aerodrome and a base of sufficient size to accommodate a sizeable garrison. The Bermudian officials in attendance were stunned into silence. According to one eye witness account: “As he slowly proceeded to read out item after item, unit after unit, squadron after squadron, in a gentle, unrelenting voice which rolled on and on like the benign and inexorable Mississippi, surprise and consternation spread from face to face of the British representatives.”20 Yet Greenslade had been well briefed. In his report on social and economic conditions, Rear Admiral Greenslade acknowledged that Bermuda “lives upon its visitors.” The entire economy, in his estimation, was built around the tourist trade. He reported that Bermuda’s tourist promoters sought “persons of above-average income because that business is more remunerative and leaders in the island feel that sufficient wealthy Americans and Canadians can be induced to come to Bermuda to utilize all of the limited facilities of the islands.”21 He nonetheless recommended the building of a combined army and navy base in the central part of Bermuda alongside the Great Sound, the very heart of the tourist area. The base location decision, though not made public, unleashed a political storm within official circles in Bermuda.22 The colonial government warned that the bases would destroy the peace and charm of this “old world” tourist resort and, in so doing, would demolish the tourist industry forever. The proposed bases would also split the colony in two, they warned. Indeed, the bases would “violently change” the “character of the Colony” by the introduction of “unsightly buildings, noise, bustle, restriction of movement in large areas, and extreme over-crowding.”23 To press its case, the Bermuda government refused to authorize American survey parties to enter private lands, until the matter had been resolved, a necessary first step in establishing the bases. The Bermuda Committee, a quasi-governmental body formed by the most prominent white citizens on the island, sent a lengthy memorandum to the U.S. government, encouraging it to rethink its decision.24 It argued that Greenslade’s proposals had, in their magnitude, gone far beyond anything the House of Assembly had envisioned. The committee warned that if left unchanged the bases would “give rise to the gravest economic, social and political dislocation of the life of the Colony.” It was also claimed that the livelihood of almost the entire population was derived from the tourist trade: The attraction of Bermuda as a resort are its beauty, peacefulness old-worldliness, facilities for outdoor recreation on land and water in pleasant surroundings, absence of mechanical transport, freedom of movement, etc, etc. In all these respects it is clear that the character of the Colony would be violently changed by the unsightly buildings, noise, bustle, restrictions of movement in large

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areas and extreme overcrowding which would inevitably result from the adoption of the present proposals. In addition the Colony, in spite of its proximity to the United States, has so far retained in marked degree British characteristics plus local characteristics and this has a peculiar attraction for American visitors who find in Bermuda their nearest foreign resort. Those characteristics would undoubtedly be submerged. We feel sure that, for the above mentioned reasons, the Colony as a pleasure resort and a pleasant place to abode would be ruined. Desirable tourists would go elsewhere and substantial American residents and many Bermudians would migrate.25

In this doomsday scenario, the proposed bases would result in declining real estate values, loss of business in high-end shops and hotels, unemployment, and loss of state revenue. The area to be leased was presented as the most attractive residential area in Bermuda, home to many influential families. “Valuable properties” owned by the colony’s “most desirable American residents” would be expropriated.26 Nearby waters in the Great Sound, used for yachting, would likewise become off-limits to pleasure seekers. In search of a solution, the Bermuda Committee proposed an alternative site for the bases when it traveled to Washington on October 2. Instead of locating the bases on the Great Sound, as Greenslade proposed, the Committee urged that the bases be built in the East End, preferably on St. David’s Island. “Less important” amenities, it argued, would be disturbed and fewer persons displaced as a result.27 Official resistance to the proposed location of the U.S. bases in Bermuda “stiffened” in early October 1940 and the U.S. consul general, William H. Beck, did not expect it to diminish any time soon.28 Unique among the base colonies, Bermuda’s government did not welcome the U.S. bases as a potential new employer. Bermuda was relatively well off. British prime minister Winston Churchill’s promise in the House of Commons not to impose its will on the colonies proved to be the turning point. The Greenslade Board returned to Bermuda on October 24, 1940, to confer again with colonial officials about viable alternatives. St. David’s Island was offered to the United States. Bermuda’s counterproposal was prepared by the British naval staff, under the direction of the Governor, in order to minimize the disturbance on “conditions which have made the high class tourist trade there so successful in the past.” Their efforts bore fruit with Greenslade’s reluctant recommendation to accept the alternate site.29 On November 18, 1940, the St. David’s base location was announced in the Bermuda House of Assembly. The Royal Gazette and Colonist Daily told its readers that the scene that unfolded that day “will rarely be rivaled for its historical significance and its effect on this Colony.” Members listened in “grave silence” as the Speaker reported that the United States had originally asked to lease part of the West End of the island, but were offered alternative locations by a local committee. As a direct result of these entreaties, the U.S. Board of Experts had returned to Bermuda and agreed to the new location: “Utter silence continued in the chamber after the message and memorandum had been read. The information conveyed was beyond doubt a complete

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Figure 2.1 Index Map. U.S. Corps of Engineers. Bermuda Air Base, Bermuda Islands. Parcel Index Map. Leased Area—St. David’s Island. March 15, 1941. Source: PA 91. Bermuda Archives.

revelation to a vast majority of the members.”30 A huge map of Bermuda, six feet broad and ten feet long, was then brought into the chamber and placed near the Speaker’s chair. Members “lost no time in examining it.” The New York Times reported that the members of the House of Assembly believed that Greenslade’s original proposal would have meant the “ruin of Bermuda.”31 The awed reaction of elected members was soon shared by the public as word spread that half of St. David’s Island and all of neighboring Long Bird Island, as well as several smaller islands, would be incorporated into the new base. A sizeable area of Castle Harbour would also be filled in to make a landing field. The move more than doubled the leased area. A tremendous “tide of change” soon swept across the East End. When completed, the base sprawled over 415 acres of land and 750 acres of dredged fill. In the end, the U.S. Navy managed to build its base in the West End, using a secret 1939 agreement to lease Morgan and Tucker’s Islands for a seaplane base.32 The navy’s decision provoked a second round of protest and for more than a month the British withheld their approval. When the United States refused to compromise, there was nothing Bermuda’s political and economic elite could do. They counted themselves lucky as the navy base was only a fraction of the size of the sprawling air base on St. David’s Island.

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St. David’s Island St. David’s is situated between Bermuda’s two early harbors: St. George’s, located just to the east, and Hamilton, far to the west. The Eastern half of St. David’s Island was originally set aside as public land, mostly for use of commanders in nearby forts.33 The Western end of the island, by contrast, was divided into forty lots of five acres each. These lands were awarded to the original shareholders of Hamilton Parish in 1619 to compensate them for the poor quality of their own land. These lots were subsequently leased or sold to St. David’s Islanders. The island was a hive of activity during the seventeenth century, with slave produced tobacco and livestock, and later, shipbuilding, fishing and whaling. Still, the island’s planters suffered economically when the political and economic center of the colony shifted from the town of St. George’s to Hamilton. In due course, St. David’s became more isolated and insular. In 1758, the public lands in the eastern half of St. David’s were auctioned off to the highest bidder. As only two of the twelve shares were purchased by existing lease holders, many people were turned off the lands or became tenants. Some of the new owners built substantial homes, whereas others purchased the land for its valuable cedar for shipbuilding. Many inhabitants returned to farming arrowroot, onions, and potatoes in the early nineteenth

Figure 2.2 Map. U.S. Corps of Engineers. Bermuda Air Base, Bermuda Islands. Parcel Index Map. Leased Area—St. David’s Island. March 15, 1941. Source: PA 91. Bermuda Archives.

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century. Lilies emerged as a major export crop in the early twentieth century. With the completion of the Severn Bridge in 1934, St. David’s Island became the last of the major islands to be connected to the rest of the colony. We might ask ourselves what made this island and its inhabitants expendable in 1940? The short answer to this question is economics and race. Because St. David’s Island had yet to be integrated into Bermuda’s tourist economy, the colony’s elite cast it as an undeveloped rural “backwater.”

Figure 2.3 Detail in U.S. Corps of Engineers. Bermuda Air Base, Bermuda Islands. Parcel Index Map. Leased Area—St. David’s Island. March 15, 1941. Source: PA 91. Bermuda Archives.

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Even the island’s substantial farmers had little political influence. But there was something more than economics going on here. St. David’s Island was a place apart. To visit the island in 1893, American tourist Julia Dorr hired a man to “ ‘row us o’er the ferry.’ ”34 This physical journey across the water represented a cultural crossing of sorts. St. David’s may have been separated from the rest of Bermuda by a “narrow stretch” of water until 1934, but it had “something alien in its atmosphere.” There were women on St. David’s, Dorr whispered, who never visited the port towns of St. George’s or Hamilton. It was once said that many St. David’s Islanders had “never seen a horse.”35 These stories continued to circulate in 1940. Race was also factor. Forty families—with overlapping kinship ties—lived on the island during the eighteenth century. These included descendants of American Indians exiled from mainland North America during the Pequot war of 1637 and other conflicts or captured during raids on the Spanish Caribbean.36 Enslaved Amerindians were joined by enslaved Africans who were brought to Bermuda to work in the early tobacco fields. Historians Kathleen Bragdon and Phillip Rabito-Wyppensenwah have shown that stories of the native ancestry of St. David’s islanders circulated throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. It was commonly believed, for example, that the Minors, Fox, Lamb, Burchall, and Pitcher families descended from American Indians.37 One can point to any number of references in the literary and archival record to the “distinctive Indian appearance” of many St. David’s islanders who were sometimes referred to as the “Mohawk.”38 Clearly, St. David’s Islanders were viewed as not quite “white” by Bermuda’s elite men and women. It therefore stands to reason that the racial reputation of St. David’s played a major part in the Bermuda Committee’s decision to offer up the island to the Americans. They were expendable. The locations of the U.S. bases were announced to the Bermuda public on Monday afternoon, November 18, 1940. The next morning, Governor Bernard went to St. David’s Island to meet with those most directly affected. At a large public meeting in Wesley Hall, the Governor explained that due to the necessities of the war, the effects “had unhappily fallen on them.”39 The Governor said he was “frightfully sorry for those who would be affected” and agreed that the “houses in which you have lived all your life, and which our ancestors lived in, is hard to leave.” He vowed that the property interests of those displaced would be looked after and “their welfare studied.” He went on to say that a “carefully selected committee” would be chosen to “get the best possible terms.” Nobody would be left in the lurch. The U.S. Board of Experts, he told the crowd, “thought that Castle Harbour and its islands were eminently suitable for the site. There was no empty place in Bermuda, and as bad luck would have it, Castle Harbour filled the bill.”40 As we now know, luck had nothing to do with it. The governor stood on the platform with the Colonial Secretary, Major Dutton, and the four members of the House representing St. George’s Parish, none of whom lived on St. David’s Island. S.S. Toddings, for his part,

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encouraged those gathered to look at the bright side: the bases would bring employment and prosperity to a part of the Bermudas that had not seen much of either. “ ‘This scheme, I believe, will do for St. George’s what the Dockyard has done for Somerset,” he continued. “There will be a wave of prosperity at this end that we cannot really imagine.”41 For good measure, the Governor again invoked duty to empire: “Demands are being made on all parts of the Empire, and this is their demand on us.” He then placed a large map on an easel and people crowded round “to inspect the projected site.”42 Those gathered recorded their “deep remorse” at losing their homes, but nonetheless agreed to make this sacrifice. The resolution that passed unanimously read as follows: RESOLVED, that this meeting of people vitally affected by the establishment of the United States defense base on St. David’s Island accord their deep sense of regret at losing their homes, in which their families have lived for centuries, but wish to express their loyalty to the British Empire by accepting the sacrifice in a spirit of support for the ultimate winning of the war against Germany and Italy.43

It was impossible “not to feel the utmost sympathy for these simple folk,” wrote the author of Bermuda’s unpublished history of the war.44 The elected members of Bermuda’s House of Assembly met the next day to hear the Governor’s report on his meeting with St. David’s Islanders. The newspaper reported sustained applause for his praise of their “loyalty and fortitude.” All those present believed that Bermuda was “now destined to play an important part in Western Hemisphere defense and by so doing, consolidate the ties now existing between The British Empire and the United States of America.”45 The representatives of the town of St. George’s were reported to be jubilant: “whereas St. George’s had not benefited from a tourist trade in the way the central districts had, and had not enjoyed the advantages of a dockyard as had the West End, they were at last going to gain kindred advantages.”46 Sir Stanley Spurling, an East End politician, tourist promoter and land speculator, called the bases a “valuable asset” for the area.47 There were a few half-hearted protests. One member, Sir Henry Watlington, who did not care for all of the secrecy surrounding the negotiations, suggested that the Bermuda Committee should have reported back to the House once the scale of U.S. plans became evident.48 Two members from Hamilton District likewise feared the impact of the bases in the East and questioned the change of location in the House. They wanted a more extensive explanation concerning the original U.S. land request and the changes that followed. S.S. Toddings replied that “[i]t was the case of killing an asset already a known quantity or choosing one which would be an advantage to Bermuda. The tourist trade would have been ruined by using the Great Sound site while the other was a ‘perfect scheme.’ ” A key member of the Bermuda Committee, Howard Trott, said that it was their only choice as

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1,500 people would have been dispossessed had the original plan went ahead: “I think the hon. Member for St. George’s Parish, Mr. Toddings, put his finger on the whole thing when he said that this change would benefit St. George’s considerably, or the East End of the Islands, and it would at least keep this end of the Island intact.”49 The building of the bases in the East End was therefore seen as a double-victory for Bermuda’s white merchants. On the one hand, it ensured that the tourist areas would remain “intact” and on the other it would provide an economic engine for what it considered to be the most backward part of the colony. The Tourist Aesthetic and Property Valuation The U.S. Army base required the expropriation of 118 privately owned properties, home to sixty-five families.50 Forty of these families, concentrated in the southeastern part of St. David’s, had “very modest incomes” according to the district engineer.51 Black St. David’s Islanders had small land-holdings on the eastern half of the island and relied for their livelihoods on the land (gardens, pigs, fruit trees) and waters (fish). White residents, by contrast, had larger land holdings, and were involved in tourist speculation in the West End.52 A color line thus divided the two ends of the island. The individual expropriation files compiled in 1940–41 contain detailed descriptions of the lands, buildings, and businesses being taken. We can use these case files to reconstruct the St. David’s that existed on the eve of the American occupation. Those residents being displaced were mainly fishers, farmers, and small business owners. In point of fact, St. David’s Island was a centre of commercial farming in Bermuda. Its three large lily farms, for example, produced half of the lilies grown in the colony. Howard E.D. Smith’s Longfield Farm, one of the finest in the colony, sprawled over nineteen acres. The farmer’s reputation was made when he won a gold medal at the Wembley Exhibition for his bulbs. He even seeded his own variety, the “Howardii Lily.”53 For his part, Archibald A. Fox, the largest grower of cassava in Bermuda, had spent twelve years building up stock only to see it lost in 1941.54 Despite these cases, St. David’s families lived on a combination of smallscale farming, fishing and piloting. In the east, residents either owned small plots or rented them. Grover Lamb supported his wife and three children from selling produce from his fruit trees and from fishing; whereas Marie Borden sold vegetables. Most claimants subsisted on their land. Testifying on Solomon Fox’s behalf, his wife indicated that they lived on five orange trees, fifty banana trees, four lime trees, and one grapevine.55 The minutes of public hearings before the Official Arbitrators reveal more about the soonto-be-displaced inhabitants of St. David’s Island. Because he lived beside Gilbert Lamb’s pig farm, the arbitrators playfully suggested that Jeremiah Pitcher should get a 25 percent reduction in his disturbance allowance as he would escape from the vicinity of the pigsties.56 Lamb had purchased his property at auction in 1938.

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There were three discursive lines about property value that surface in these archival records. Not surprisingly, the valuation of property was heavily influenced by the tourist industry. References to views, waterfront, potential building sites, and the suitability for subdivision abounded. The aesthetic value of the property proved to be paramount. The second line of valuation was that of the settlers’ trope of “home” and “improvement.” In these cases, residents spoke of the duration of their residency, physical improvements, replacement value and disruption to their lives. The third trope, “loss of earnings,” was invoked by the island’s lily farmers and fishers. As we will see, the Official Arbitrators strongly favored outside speculators and did not consider the replacement value of “negro shacks.” The language of land value in Bermuda was suffused with the tourist aesthetic. A property’s potential as a building site was based on its views of the ocean, its water frontage, possible building sites, or its overall potential for subdivision. As St. David’s Island had not yet developed into a tourist destination, the aesthetic value of these lands remained purely speculative in 1940–41. Yet many property owners asked to be compensated for the “aesthetic value” of the lost property. W.B. Smith, who owned seventeen acres on Long Bird Island, for example, relied heavily on the tourist potential of his land to support his claim of £25,000. He stated that he had gradually assembled the real estate between 1920 and 1939 as a “real estate development.”57 He noted that his two miles of waterfront was “particularly suited to cottage development, each cottage with its own waterfront. There is ample room for 40 cottages each with at least 200 feet of waterfront.” Virtually every landowner emphasized the fine views that their lands afforded. Sarah Ann Smith’s house, located on four acres of property, was thus described as a “beautiful site with a fine view of Castle Harbour.”58 Morris A. Gibbons for his part indicated that his “beautifully situated” property commanded “an excellent view of St. George’s Harbour, and vicinity.”59 Race and class exclusivity was openly invoked by some who hoped that the planned whitening of the island would increase their property values. Politician Sir Stanley Spurling, for example, intended to subdivide his waterfront lots (D-41) with “commanding views” of Castle Harbour and Dolly’s Bay into a racially exclusive real estate development: “No sale was being made except to persons approved by those who had already previously bought lots.”60 If speculators relied on the tourist aesthetic to establish property value, the longtime inhabitants of St. David’s Island often emphasized their longtime residency at the hearings. St. David’s was their home. This separate discursive line was shared by white and nonwhite property owners. When Solomon T.J. Fox rejected the American offer of $422 for his property, his wife expressed their concern that the visitors were not in a position to “know values as they do not know conditions here.” Further, “it does not seem fair to me, as they are putting me out of my home, where I have lived for years and have been satisfied.”61 Noting that her husband was disabled and unable to work, she indicated that it would be impossible to start a new life “under

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the conditions offered us by the American Government.” The couple therefore hoped that the arbitration board would give their claim fair consideration. “You all realized I am sure,” she said, “that in giving up this, we are giving up something that is a part of us.” The third discursive line, albeit connected with the second, related to the value of lost earnings and livelihood. Farmers and fishers who invoked this line of argument spoke in the language of business (“profit” and “new markets”) and of independent commodity producers (“loss of use”). The Official Arbitrators also considered claims for lost earnings: Howard Roy Higgs lost his dairy and egg business, whereas George Stanley Pitcher and Herbert Cleve Pitcher lost fishing earnings. The two Pitcher men now fished the North shore of St. David’s because the “dredging operations have killed or driven away large stocks of fish from Castle Harbour.” They were, the government concluded, the only fishermen who hitherto fished the South shore of St. David’s Island.62 Because no crops could be planted in the area in 1940–41, farmers asked for the full entitlement of 20 percent for lost earnings.63 The valuation of property in Bermuda thus differed from that of the United States in several respects. Whereas land values in the United States were determined strictly on the basis of fair market value, land valuation in Bermuda was heavily influenced by the tourist industry. Fishing, farming, and other uses took a back seat in these deliberations. Unlike Newfoundland (see chapter 6), there was no standard valuation for each acre of land in any given classified. The tourism potential of real estate made this difficult. The Bermuda government set the formula for determining land value on the basis of five criteria: basic land value, units of water frontage, land view, arable land, and home site (or improvements).64 Removing St. David’s Islanders A February 1941 dispatch from Neville Butler of the British embassy in Washington to the U.S. State Department outlined the proposed procedure (Newfoundland, we will see later, provided the model).65 Each colony would furnish the United States with information on seven points: the price which the owner paid for the property, the date of acquisition, the cost of any subsequent improvements, the assessed value of property for taxation purposes, the amount of property tax paid, an indication of local practice of usual local ratio between assessed property and current selling price, and evidence of real estate price. The colonies would be “invited to furnish the United States representatives so far as is possible with information on the seven points.” The initial offer would thus be based on the U.S. assessment of fair market value. If agreement could not be reached, the matter would be referred to a tribunal set up by the Colonial government. Should the U.S. government not concur with the arbitrators’ findings, the matter would be taken up by Great Britain and the United States.66 To move things along, the British government agreed to pay the difference between the Bermuda Arbitration award and the American offer.67

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To put these plans into effect, the government created a three-member tribunal to establish property titles on St. David’s Island. The tribunal examined the land titles for all the properties; and clarified many “cloudy titles.”68 The Board of Public Works appraised the properties to be acquired, received asking prices from the owners, and submitted these to the U.S. authorities. The time spent on each appraisal was directly related to the eventual valuation of the property. The Department of Public Works spent four days inspecting the properties of St. David’s and Long Bird Islands: “one day being devoted to an inspection of the two properties on Long Bird Island, 2 days to inspecting the west half of St. David’s Island (Parcels D-1 to 35 inclusive) and one day to inspecting the east half of St. David’s Island (Parcels D-36 to 113 inclusive).”69 It is hard to fathom how the Public Works team could have assessed seventy-seven claims in a single day, yet it claimed to have done so. In determining the value of improvements, little regard was given to the type of construction and the condition of buildings. The procedure adopted by the Bermuda government in most cases was to place a standard value of £500 ($2020) per acre and a cube unit value on the dwelling that equaled the “cubic unit costs estimated by their architects for new, modern, stone houses to be erected to house the dispossessed residents.” Compensating property owners for the tourist potential of their properties, however, complicated the valuation process. To this amount was added 10 to 20 percent for compulsory dispossession or disturbance. The department’s appraisal, however, was made independently of U.S. valuations.70 In fact, the practice was to forward the offer made by the United States to the property holder without mentioning Bermuda’s own valuation. The director of public works admitted that in “most cases” his department had arrived at appraisals that were higher, sometimes substantially higher, than those made by the United States. The U.S. district engineer noted “that the Board of Public Works figures exceed the U.S. offer in all but two of 108 properties. Their figures exceed the owner’s asking prices in 21 cases and are equal the owner’s asking prices in 9 cases. Awards have been made covering 37 properties upon which the Boards values were furnished. In 32 of the 37 cases the Board’s figures exceeded the amount of the award.”71 Yet property owners were left in the dark. Numerous meetings were held to reconcile these diverging property assessments. According to the U.S. Army’s district engineer, problems arose “due to different methods of approach to compensation payable by the owners” as “figures submitted frequently vary widely.”72 He considered Bermuda’s estimates to be “ultra-liberal” given the fact that their assessments often surpassed the actual claims submitted by the owners. “Practically no attempt has been made by the board to reach a compromise figure agreeable to owner and U.S. authorities,” he complained. Bermuda had no way of accurately estimating assessed value for purposes of taxation or taxes paid. Colonial tax assessment rolls were shockingly inadequate, with glaring irregularities that invalidated them as a useful source in determining values.

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In addition, the high demand for land caused by the U.S. bases had resulted in higher than normal sales. In response, American appraisals were based on the property values prevailing before the decision to locate the bases in Bermuda. This decision was unacceptable to most property owners. Only six people accepted the U.S. offer, the remaining 156 property owners took their cases to arbitration. The Official Arbitrators determined compensation in cases where the owner had refused the initial U.S. offer. This body was composed of five appointed members, all freeholders of substantial property, chaired by Sir Herbert Henniker-Heaton who was an Englishman residing in Bermuda, and included three native Bermudians and a U.S. citizen residing in Bermuda. According to the U.S. district engineer, “all are influential, successful men. None are real estate brokers or builders.”73 It went without saying that the entire board was white. In 1940, Bermuda’s civil service was all-white. In a virtually identical process to the one developed in Newfoundland, the arbitration board inspected the property and questioned landowners at a public hearing.74 Their decision was final. Most claimants were represented at these hearings by legal counsel or the St. David’s Committee (discussed below).75 In a report to his superiors, the district engineer complained that most discussion focused on: Awards covering rehabilitation costs are frequently high to cover the difference in the value of old, obsolete, wooden shacks to be acquired and the cost of new, stone dwellings equipped with modern conveniences that are being erected to house the dispossessed residents it being the decision of the Arbitrators that the owners are entitled to new, modern, stone homes equal in size to the homes they are being dispossessed of.76

Once the awards had been determined, payments to displaced families were supposed to be made within the week. But delays were inevitable as much of the award was payment “in kind,” in so far as families received new land allotments and new homes in lieu of cash. These took time. Inhabitants thus vacated their lands before receiving any compensation.77 There was also the matter of tenant farmers and other tenants whose leases were broken and dispossessed. They were due some consideration as the arbitrators considered not only the claims of fee-simple owners, “but any other person having any right, title or interest in the land.”78 Given the acute shortage of rental properties in wartime Bermuda, they had nowhere to go. To resolve the problem, the government decided to help them buy new homes on a deferred purchase scheme. Two hundred and forty monthly payments were required before the purchase of the property was complete.79 There would be no shack towns in Bermuda. The total cost of acquiring land in Bermuda, as of August 1943, was $2,850,000.80 This figure, provided by the chair of the Board of Auditors, Sir Herbert Henniker-Heaton, included 156 individual cases at the two U.S. bases. The property owners had claimed over $4 million dollars in compensation, whereas the United States offered only $1, 478,070 million.81

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Table 2.1

Drawing Comparisons between St. David’s Island Case Files, 1941–43

Case #

Acres

Owners Claim (U.S. dollars)

Bermuda Appraisal (U.S. dollars)

U.S. Appraisal (U.S. dollars)

Award Offer (U.S. dollars)

3 4 5 6 7

1.55 1.49 1.54 1.24 2.07

2,131 4,950 2,157 4,932 7,602

977 3,159 1,009 4,206 5,872

950 2,025 600 2,000 3,000

1,002 3,560 760 4,171 5,678

Source: Author’s tabulations from the data in the Bermuda Archives.

The U.S. Consular General calculated the difference in average asking price, offer and arbritration award as follows (taking the U.S. offer at 100): 234 owner’s price, 161 Board of Works estimate, 136 Arbitrators Award.82 In the end, claimants were said to have receive approximately two-thirds of the amount that they claimed for (see table 2.1). The total cost of base construction in Bermuda was an astounding 50 million dollars.83 Why were the Bermuda Board of Works’ assessments so much higher than those of the U.S. Army’s district engineer? A number of reasons present themselves. First, Bermuda—like other British colonies—included the loss of crops or businesses in its assessments, the United States did not. Bermuda’s Board of Works also provided a bonus of up to 20 percent for disturbance. Third, it took into account the replacement cost for building a new dwelling of better quality than the one taken. The arbitrators, however, refused to make awards covering the costs of new houses “in cases where they exceed the costs of constructing buildings equivalent to those vacated plus an allowance for adequate sanitary facilities.”84 Finally, the “Bermuda Aesthetic” profoundly shaped notions of land value. The Resettlement of Islanders Bermuda, alone among the base colonies, created a committee to assist those being displaced to build anew. The St. David’s Committee was responsible for the resettlement of uprooted landowners and leaseholders. The Committee, which consisted of a chairperson and four others, was empowered to pay money to “dispossessed persons,” the amount having been fixed by agreement between the owner and the Board of Works or by the Official Arbitrators.85 The St. David’s Committee met on December 13, 1940 and commenced collecting data on those being removed. Personal visits were made to every household and interviews were arranged with twenty-four families. At its second meeting held on Christmas Eve, the St. David’s Committee acknowledged the strong desire of residents to relocate to the northern half of St. David’s Island.86 How this might be accomplished was thoroughly discussed: A discussion ensued as to the necessity of adopting an attitude of paternalism in relation to the persons being dispossessed. On the one hand it was pointed

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out that if some of these people were granted monetary compensation that it would probably be spent foolishly and not used to rebuild themselves a proper house. On the other hand it was pointed out that if the Government built them houses they would probably not be satisfied and would feel that too much money had been spent on the house and not sufficient ready cash was left to them to spend.87

On January 10, the committee informed the Bermuda government of how it proposed to determine property titles and the allocation of new lots of land and houses. Instead of cash payments, the committee decided it was best for the state to use this money to build new homes for nonwhites. The committee indicated in confidential reports that the island’s black population could not be trusted with cash awards. Racial stereotypes yet again shaped the government’s response. Negotiations soon commenced to acquire property adjoining the leased area. To that end, the government purchased two blocks of land—the Sophia Hayward Estate in the northwestern portion of St. David’s and the estate of H.M. Fox in the northeast—and subdivided it. Mirroring the old social geography of St. David’s, these two subdivisions were racially segregated. While white families moved onto the Hayward Estate or further afield, nonwhites were moved to Texas. According to the committee’s final report, The first major problem that presented itself, was that there was a division of opinion among the St. David’s Islanders as to where they wished to be rehabilitated, some wanting to go to Smith’s Island and some wanting to remain on St. David’s Island. Eventually opinion consolidated and two properties were acquired by the Bermuda Government on the portion of St. David’s Island, outside the leased area.88

The Board of Public Works was assigned the task of building new homes on a twenty-eight-acre tract known locally as Texas. The Fox estate was subdivided into thirty-four lots. Each family approved the house plan (roughly equal in size to the lost one): “All are of native stone construction, pine flooring, framing and millwork, and are equipped with complete bath, running water, electricity, etc.”89 While the new homes were roughly equal in size to the lost ones, they were made of stone. This rehabilitation program was initiated “without the council or approval” of the U.S. authorities. The government justified it on the basis of the stated desire to ensure sanitary conditions in proximity to the base; and, the stated need to keep these families from spending their compensation unwisely and thus become public charges. The desire to maintain the Bermuda aesthetic was also a factor. The U.S. district engineer had his misgivings: “Just why it was necessary to rehouse these people adjacent to the lease area is unknown to this office. What disposition will be made of the homes after they are deeded to these people is also unknown to this office.”90 The cost of the house and land was thus deducted from individual awards. When the cost of the new house and land exceeded the amount awarded, the

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person got the benefit of the difference. Forty-two new homes, built to individual taste, were fitted with modern sanitary conveniences. These homes ranged from one-bedroom houses with a bathroom and dining room– kitchen to four-bedroom homes equipped with a living room as well. After some discussion, the committee decided not to shift the cost of building access roads to those moving there.91 The St. David’s Committee and the Official Arbitrators locked horns over the issue of “replacement value” with the former arguing that displaced land owners should get the full replacement value for their lost homes as the cost of living had risen sharply during the war. The arbitrators disagreed.92 In the face of wartime inflation, some claimants were afforded extra compensation for the additional cost of rehabilitation (labour and building materials). “Generally speaking,” the St. David’s Committee reported, “the results worked out equitably, since, in many cases the Official Arbitrators had allowed an amount for ‘Additional Cost of rehabilitation,’ it being recognized that building costs had a distinctly upward trend.”93 The compensation rate for disturbance ranged from 5 percent up to the maximum 20 percent allowable. Yet the Department of Public Works had difficulty finding sufficient labour and materials to build the homes. It had become clear by May 1941 that the new houses would not be ready for residents in time for the evacuation from the island. Residents therefore moved into temporary shelter for the interim: “Many of the displaced crowded onto the remaining half of the island.” 94 The St. David’s Committee secured four prefabricated barracks to house many of the families.95 On July 15, 1941, the Governor met with St. David’s Islanders about the delays in rehabilitation and compensation payments. The government officials on hand faced a storm of anger. According to an unpublished history of wartime Bermuda, “indignant citizens . . . jumped to their feet, one after another, to express in the strongest language . . . what they thought about the arrangements made for them.” 96 A list of grievances submitted to the government by the freeholders of St. David’s Island told of the delays in rehabilitation, the amount of compensation, and the demand that they vacate their property before the determination of their awards. There were also complaints of American soldiers and construction workers entering private lands, ruining crops. Mrs. Minors, widow of F.M. Minors, for example, noted that the United States had built a cook house and store room on her property and cut down trees for firewood without consulting her.97 Residents called on the Bermuda government to “honour its given word and see that St. David’s Islanders are given a square deal, and are paid reasonably for the forced loss of their homes and properties?” 98 Some St. David’s Islanders clearly resented being housed in barracks until their new homes were built. The Great Motor Car Debate The building of the U.S. bases brought multifarious changes to Bermuda society and landscape. Writing a century after Mark Twain wrote Innocents

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Abroad, Dolores Block recalled the wartime transformation of St. David’s Island: “Before long all the land south of the road became a scene of desolation as houses, trees, rolling fields and charming indented shore was churned into a sea of mutilation by massive engines . . . . This was upheaval, dismemberment, and desolation. The St. David’s Islanders watched it solidly, uncomprehendingly.” 99 St. David’s Islanders lost much more than their property. They lost their island—its landmarks, its shoreline, its history. Almost overnight, St. David’s had been rendered unrecognizable to residents. Old St. David’s may be gone but the U.S. Army followed “Bermudian style” architectural tastes in building the bases. A tour of the army base in 1943, for example, revealed “how they have stuck to the letter and spirit of this undertaking. The fort post office, for example, is patterned after the Bermuda homestead type of architecture, even to the interior trim of Bermuda bird’s-eye cedar woodwork.”100 The main gate was also said to be constructed of “solid Bermuda cedar.” There was even a blending of American and Bermudian in the naming of base roads. Despite the best efforts of Bermuda’s merchant class to contain the friendly invasion to the East End, the coming of the Americans triggered far-reaching changes throughout the colony. One of the most contentious of these changes was the introduction of motorized vehicles to Bermuda. Although the Bermuda Base Agreement, which governed the U.S. presence in the colony, indicated that the visiting forces would not use motorized vehicles outside the lease areas, this proved impossible to enforce.101 The location of the U.S. Army and Navy bases at opposite ends of the colony made this an impossibility. The sound of heavy lorries soon drowned out any protests from the island’s tourist promoters. There was a war to win. The presence of large numbers of military jeeps, trucks and other vehicles on the island’s narrow, winding roads presented a point of ongoing friction. Bermuda’s road system consisted of 58.5 miles of macadam road and another 29.5 miles of secondary dirt or clay roads. They were suitable for bicycles and horse drawn carriages, but not army trucks. By 1944, there was “little difference between them” as the Macadam was quickly chewed up by heavy military vehicles.102 The Bermuda government was forced to invest more money each year into their maintenance: an annual investment of 19,136 pounds in the 1930s became 51,684 pounds in 1943–44.103 In exchange for free access on Bermuda’s roads, the United States eventually agreed to asphalt the surface of eighteen miles of road between the two bases.104 The growing number of vehicles plying Bermuda’s roads is made clear in table 2.2. Fully two-thirds of the registered vehicles in Bermuda in 1941–43 were owned by the U.S. Army or Navy. Word that Bermuda had its first “motor speeding” case in March 1943 reached faraway Trinidad when the Guardian picked up the story. James Hutcheson, twenty-three, a West Indian, was found guilty of driving twenty-three miles per hour in a fifteen miles per hour area. While Hutcheson testified that he did not think his “antiquated” truck could go that fast, he did not have an odometer and took

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Table 2.2

Motor Vehicles in Bermuda, 1939–43

Year

Bermuda Government and Privately Owned

British Military

U.S. Military

1939 1940 1941 1942 1943

58 64 69 117 150

14 18 32 55 78

— — 213 615 747

Source: March 6, 1944. Chairman, Board of Public Works and Director of Public Works. “Memorandum on Road Damage in Bermuda.” File: Hamilton, Bermuda, 1944. RG 84. Foreign Service. Bermuda. Records re. Bases Leased by the United States in Bermuda, 1941, 1943–48. NAR A.

the police constable’s word for it. The “speed trap” effected by the constabulary was to measure 100 yards off with policemen at each end holding stopwatches. The drivers were clocked within this area. If found to be speeding, the policeman signalled a third officer located another 50 yards down the road to flag down the offending vehicle.105 The appearance of hundreds of U.S. Army and Navy vehicles on Bermuda’s roads, as well as those of the civilian contractors building the bases, reopened the debate about the place of the automobile in Bermuda. There had been a number of attempts since 1908 to secure amendments to the law, but without success.106 In 1939, there were just sixteen motor vehicles in use on public roads in Bermuda. All of them were owned by the colonial government or the municipalities for road repair work and sanitary services. The only privately owned motor vehicles were those restricted to private property: namely the tourist hotels and the Royal Navy dockyard.107 Not even the governor of Bermuda was permitted to operate one. It is said that one governor resigned in frustration. In the end, Bermuda’s influential tourist promoters were only partly successful in maintaining the famed “Bermuda aesthetic.” While the massive landplane base was built on the fringe of the tourist resort, the resulting activity caused Bermuda to abandon its treasured prohibition on motor vehicles. In 1943, the House of Assembly voted twenty-two to ten in favor of the general use of motor vehicles by private individuals (unlike Newfoundland it retained left-side driving).108 The motion was nevertheless side lined by the appointed Legislative Council. Yet the door to motorized transportation could not be shut and in 1946 Bermuda lifted the ban. Despite such setbacks, the fears expressed by the Bermuda Committee in 1940 would not be realized. The bases and tourist hotels coexisted after the war. In fact, the new airport made it considerably easier for tourists to visit. Conclusion The trickle of American tourists who continued to visit the summer islands in 1940–41 found “the same Bermuda and yet a different Bermuda. In terms

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of serenity and beauty, it holds all its much advertised attraction. It is, however, a more interesting Bermuda, with the fabric of its life spun from strands of a more diverse and colorful nature.” In June 1941, a headline in the New York Times announced that “Old Bermuda persists.” While cyclists “might occasionally pass an army truck on the hilly, flower-bordered roads,” Bermuda was still a “tourist resort.” Indeed, the “quiet tourist haunts” in many parishes were “just as serene as before.” The most disruptive aspects of the American invasion had been “shunted off to a quiet corner of the colony.”109 St. David’s Islanders, like the residents of Tucker’s Town twenty years earlier, were sacrificed for tourism. These two places—which once faced each other across Castle Harbour—shared much in common: both were farming and fishing communities that supposedly “lagged” behind the rest of the Colony and both were largely peopled by black Bermudians. In each case, white merchants and tourist operators were quick to call on others to sacrifice, but when they were themselves called to do so by Rear Admiral Greenslade in September 1940, they resisted with all their considerable might. The next three chapters examine one of the most troublesome issues raised by the U.S. bases: wage rates and the shortage of labor.

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Chapter 3

Working for Uncle Sam in Newfoundland

N

ewfoundland’s close proximity to North Atlantic shipping lanes and to the Great Circle route used for transatlantic aviation made it of tremendous strategic value to the United States and Canada. The United States built four sprawling bases in Newfoundland: Fort Pepperrell on the outskirts of the city of St. John’s; a second army post, Fort McAndrew, across the Avalon Peninsula at Argentia; the U.S. Navy’s operating base, also at Argentia; and an Army air base, Harmon Field, on Newfoundland’s west coast at Stephenville. These four sites were joined by the Canadian Air and Navy bases also being built in Newfoundland and Labrador. At the height of the construction boom in 1942, fully 20,000 Newfoundlanders found steady employment on these foreign bases.1 The onset of wartime prosperity was met with welcome relief by Newfoundland’s 300,000 residents, who had endured two decades of mass unemployment and widespread destitution. The collapse of the salt fish trade and government insolvency forced the people of Newfoundland to accept the suspension of democratic institutions in favor of a British appointed Commission of Government in 1934. Yet, the suffering continued unabated. The monthly economic and social reports filed by members of the Newfoundland Rangers, a rural police force formed in 1935, for example, observed many families sinking into debt. Another government study estimated that the average annual income from fishing in 1935 amounted to a meager $135.82.2 Hard times thus forced a large proportion of Newfoundland’s population onto the government dole of six cents per day.3 Widespread poverty, in turn, contributed to malnourishment and a rate of tuberculosis so high, reported one American doctor, that it accounted for one in six deaths on the island.4 Yet rural Newfoundlanders were a remarkably versatile and resilient group. They planted gardens, raised livestock, fished and hunted to feed their families. In the off-season, fishers worked in the woods for the paper companies or on the roads for the Newfoundland government. A large

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number of men also ventured to the mainland in search of higher wages and steady work. Indeed, residents had a long tradition of moving back and forth between wage labor and the often cashless fisheries. There were many fishermen-farmers, fishermen-miners and various combinations thereof.5 Occupational pluralism thus represented a fundamental feature of the Newfoundland labor market. With the arrival of thousands of highly paid American servicemen and civilian construction workers in 1941, problems arose. In Newfoundland in the North Atlantic World Peter Neary has sketched out the many points of friction or uncertainty that accompanied the “friendly invasion” of Newfoundland: the removal of hundreds of families to make way for the bases, confusion over criminal jurisdiction and customs duties, the spread of venereal disease and the usual brawls and rowdyism on Water Street in St. John’s. The most troublesome problem for the commission governing Newfoundland, however, proved to be the one involving wage rates and labor turnover. To minimize the disruption to Newfoundland fishing, logging and mining industries, the British and Newfoundland governments quietly lobbied the United States to pay the rates already prevailing in the country.6 The commission also urged fishers and loggers to return to their seasonal jobs in 1941 and again in 1942. These efforts proved partially successful; yet the resulting high rate of labor turnover on the base construction sites had some unforeseen consequences.7 Foreign officers and diplomats interpreted this high rate of turnover as an absentee problem, reporting to their superiors that Newfoundland men were lazy and idle. They were, one concluded, “as a group restless, and given to frequent changes in employment.”8 Canadian High Commissioner Charles Burchell likewise blamed this phenomenon on a general indisposition to do continuous work.9 Newfoundlanders, he stated confidently, were simply unused to modern work discipline. The U.S. consul general in Newfoundland, George D. Hopper, agreed with this assessment, reporting that the island’s male inhabitants had the habit of hibernating for two to ten weeks in the winter months. During this time, he added, they loafed at home until they ran out of money.10 These alarming and harsh judgments have found their way into the historical scholarship of the period. The U.S. Office of the Chief of Military History published a volume on North American cooperation that claimed that Newfoundlanders had a “proclivity for long week ends” and refusing to work during the harsh winter weather.11 These essentializing observations about Newfoundland character have been repeated ever since. Even historians of the caliber of Peter Neary have let these comments stand without comment.12 What is most disturbing about this historiographical trend is that in repeating these claims without questioning their validity or even asking why mainland observers drew these negative conclusions, historians have left the unmistakable impression that this collective portrait was an accurate one. This chapter holds that the comings and goings of base construction workers in Newfoundland should not be attributed to

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loafing or laziness. To the contrary, the high rate of labor turnover resulted, in large part, from the longstanding occupational pluralism of Newfoundland rural communities and from the Commission’s own efforts to convince fishers and loggers to combine base employment with their seasonal work. Wages paid to base workers thus proved too low to keep them on these construction sites year round, but they were high enough to keep them coming back. The Base Construction Boom The base construction boom quickly transformed Newfoundland’s labor surplus into a labor shortage, particularly in areas adjoining the major bases. As table 3.1 illustrates, a majority of the 20,000 workers employed on the foreign bases worked for the Americans. In September 1942, for example, the U.S. Army employed nearly 10,000 people and the U.S. Navy another 3,500. Fort Pepperrell employed the largest number of Newfoundland civilians, at more than 5,000, in November 1941. This was followed by the air and naval bases at Argentia, Harmon Field, and Fort McAndrew. In its annual economic and financial review of the island, the U.S. consul general’s office reported immediate results: the large influx of military personnel had resulted in “large disbursements of funds which modified, at least temporarily, the internal economy of Newfoundland.”13 Wages were high and the population was fully employed. Even at war’s end, the foreign bases continued to employ more than 5,000 residents on a semi-permanent basis. Newfoundlanders quite naturally gravitated to job sites closest to home. One of the results of this inclination was the development of five labor catchment areas around key construction sites. Two of these centered on bases being built for the Canadians. The inhabitants of Labrador and the Northern Peninsula of Newfoundland found jobs at the huge Canadian air base being constructed at Goose Bay. Those inhabiting Newfoundland’s north coast or living along the railroad line cutting through the island’s interior found

Table 3.1 The Number of Newfoundland Men Employed on Canadian and American Bases, 1942–45 Date June 1942 September 1942 December 1942 December 1943 March 1944 October 1944 August 1945

Canadian Forces

U.S. Army

U.S. Navy

Total

6,943 6,728 3,829 4,131 3,929 — —

6,930 9,524 6,866 3,519 2,565 3,208 3,724

3,472 3,500 2,600 1,150 982 1,050 1,612

17,345 19,752 13,295 8,800 7,476 — —

Source: Parsons, Labour Relations Officer (Acting) to Commissioner for Justice and Defence, September 29, 1945, File 19, “U.S. Effect of Agreements on Colonies,” Box 365, GN 13/1/B, PANL.

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Figure 3.1 Photograph. Naval Air Station. Argentia, Newfoundland. Views of Existing Docks. Looking North from S.S. Richard Peck. March 1, 1941. Source: Collection 302. CNS Archives.

work at the Canadian air bases at Gander and Botwood. Construction of the American airfield at Stephenville in turn drew workers from coastal communities in the southwest corner of the island and from the larger communities to the north such as Corner Brook. However, beginning in Harbour Breton, South Shore residents (particularly those from the Burin Peninsula) caught the coastal steamers east to the U.S. Army and Navy bases at Argentia. This massive construction site also attracted a large number of workers from the Avalon Peninsula. Finally, the Canadian and American bases in the vicinity of St. John’s employed people from the capital and from across the Avalon Peninsula.14 From the moment that the Americans arrived, Newfoundlanders were determined to find work at the bases. But poor winter working conditions, a lack of accommodation, and an oscillating demand for labor marred the first months of base construction. After having financed the journey by rail or steamship with credit from local merchants, many hopeful employees had to return home empty handed in early 1941.15 Joseph Hanrahan of Marystown on the Burin Peninsula, for example, had stayed in Argentia for a week in a fruitless search for work. Some nights he slept under an upturned dory on the beach and on other nights he joined almost 200 others in a coal shed. “There is no doubt about it,” reported one Newfoundland Ranger, “the men are keen to get at this work.”16 Each day men from the widely scattered

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communities along Newfoundland’s southern coast made their way to Argentia using “every available means, jackboat and steamer, and even motor boats.” As a result, one of the enduring images of construction at Argentia were the dozens of fishing boats moored off-shore. Base workers slept onboard these vessels, finding their way “back and forth to their temporary quarters in dories.”17 The physical transformation of Argentia from outport to naval base is recorded in a series of photographs taken by the U.S. Navy and held at the Centre for Newfoundland Studies in St. John’s. These images visualize the naval base taking shape: the unloading of equipment, men and women at work, buildings going up and the struggle against the elements. These images are almost never still, everything seemed in motion. To better communicate the intensity of the work underway, and the labor intensiveness of that work, I have incorporated a selection of these remarkable photographs into this chapter. Dozens of men are pictured unloading vessels, piling wood, building the skeleton of new barracks, preparing the dock or piles, or waiting patiently for treatment at the Aetna Hospital run by the construction contractor. Women are also shown at work in the base laundry and hospital. There are no photographs of leisure in this collection, only

Figure 3.2 Photograph. Naval Air Station. Argentia, Newfoundland. Bulldozer Sunk in Bog. February 12, 1941. Source: Collection 302. CNS Archives.

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work. No distinction between American and Newfoundland labor is made in the accompanying captions. This lack of distinction did not extend to the letters home of Jerome E. Gilpatrick, a U.S. engineer who came to Argentia to help build the base. Unlike the photographs, Gilpatrick’s letters focused on the daily routines in the off-hours, the weather, radio programming, and other entertainments. From time to time, however, he would mention local workmen. What he had to say was often devastating. The Newfoundland workmen who worked for him were almost never treated as individuals and, as a group, were treated without respect. He simply identified them as “natives” or “Newfies.” It was fully six months after his arrival that Gilpatrick finally named one of the local men working for him: Cyril Drake, a twenty-nine-year-old man from Marysville, who had been “my faithful stooge ever since I have been here.”18 Although class prejudice no doubt contributed to this social distance, other factors were at work. While Newfoundland workers were housed on-base, unlike anywhere else in the base colonies, they lived segregated lives. They slept in their own barracks, ate in their own mess halls, and had their own movie nights at the base cinema. Three evenings were reserved for American audiences and three for Newfoundland ones. The seventh night was dedicated to vaudeville or boxing. Commenting on the popularity of the cinema, J.E. Gilpatrick wrote that On Newfie night it is very well packed as most of the type of Newfies here have never seen pictures at all and consequently are in their glory. They are not allowed to attend on US night. The Newfies have different colored badges from US employees and can be detected very easily.19

Because U.S. construction workers and servicemen enjoyed duty-free goods and services, the Newfoundland Commission of Government insisted that local workmen be barred from the base store, laundry, and barber shop. Yet, as always, many base workers got around this rule by asking American co-workers to purchase a carton of cigarettes or another item for them. Gilpatrick complained that there was always someone hanging around outside the canteen asking for help. “Such is the penalty of having been born in Newfoundland,” he wrote.20 Despite these rules, the number of Newfoundlanders seeking to work at Argentia was so great that the limited number of coastal steamers plying Newfoundland’s isolated south coast proved unable to handle the increased demand. Steamers were filled beyond capacity, making men and women wait weeks or even months for passage. One 1941 report from Bay l’Argent proved typical: “When the S.S. Glencoe arrived here on March 3rd she was filled and could take no passengers, the same occurred again on March 28th when she was again full and had to leave 130 men behind in Fortune Bay. It will be another three weeks before there is another boat east and possibly the same thing will happen.”21 As a result, the time it took to travel between coastal

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Figure 3.3 Photograph. Naval Air Station. Argentia, Newfoundland. Unloading Material from Freighter. Looking East from Railroad Station. February 12, 1941. Source: Collection 302. CNS Archives.

communities and Argentia often depended on the availability and frequency of coastal steamers. The foreign bases offered outport residents relatively good wages, a long work week and a ready source of cash. It was thus widely reported that rural Newfoundland was emptied of men: “practically every able bodied man” (Lamaline), “most of the men” (Burin), and “practically everyone who could creep or crawl” (Harbour Breton) had gone to work at the bases.22 Women, young boys, and those with disabilities also found remunerative work at Argentia and other American bases. In 1942, eighty women were employed as stenographers, laundresses, and waitresses at the Argentia naval base and another 150 at the adjoining army base. The waitresses typically earned $12.50 per week and lived in special “Girls Barracks” where guards were posted to ensure that men did not enter.23 Once construction was underway, Newfoundland Rangers reported an infusion of currency into coastal communities that had hitherto functioned on credit. The large number of residents from Harbour Breton who found work at Argentia, for example, had “brought cash to the majority of families” in the town “who hardly knew before the real meaning of its use or sight.”24 This development, as seen in Flowers Cove, was a “novel innovation for the people, as wages or earnings were hereto entirely controlled by the local

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merchants.”25 The American invasion of Newfoundland thus triggered far-reaching social and economic changes. It was suggested by some contemporaries that Newfoundlanders were “dazzled” by the wealth of the Americans and, as a result, they squandered the money that they earned on “luxury” goods instead of investing their windfall into new fishing equipment.26 Monthly Ranger reports, however, paint a very different picture. People used their earnings to pay old debts, to make long-needed repairs to their homes and to purchase new fishing equipment. In fact, hundreds of homes in each district received badly needed repairs and a fresh coat of paint. Newfoundlanders also bought foodstuffs and consumer goods that had been beyond their means only a few months previously. An obviously pleased W.R.D. Bishop, a ranger stationed in Marystown, saw a young man “whose father had been on the relief lists for a number of years past, walk into a store and order a large grocery list, included in which was a sack of sugar. This, I imagine, was more sugar than the entire family had seen for the past number of years.”27 Long-suffering families in coastal communities thus attained a higher standard of living than they had been accustomed to over the previous two decades. While this new prosperity was derived in large part from the thousands of jobs created at the bases, wartime demand had also made fishing much more profitable than it had been for decades. The prices paid to Newfoundland fishers in 1943 were 30 percent above those paid in 1942 and three times those of the best interwar year.28 Rural families also benefited from multiple incomes. The exodus of adult men from coastal communities freed lower paying jobs for the very old, for the very young and for women. Ranger Bishop of Marystown noted that it had become a common sight during his patrols to see small children of “tender ages” on the flakes drying fish. Older men were similarly reported to be employed casting for capelin. For their part, women found increased work and higher wages on the bases and in their home communities. While women always had an important role to play in the family economy, the fact that they now earned wages proved significant. The U.S. consul general complained of the increased wages for “lower groups” such as domestics. An experienced housemaid, he lamented, “could be had two years ago for ten dollars per month, but at present one finds advertisements offering thirty dollars as a starter.”29 The same held true in smaller communities outside of St. John’s. In reviewing the reports of the Newfoundland Rangers it becomes clear that it is impossible to give an exact accounting of how many Newfoundlanders worked at the U.S. bases, as men and women were “coming and going” daily.30 Members of practically every outport family spent some time working at the bases during the war. Along the south coast, this meant that every steamer saw “a certain number of men going and each successive steamer brings a further number back.”31 Understanding the reasons for this constant movement to and fro requires an examination of the question of wages.

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Figure 3.4 Photograph. Naval Air Station. Argentia, Newfoundland. Newfoundland Barracks, Unit #4. May 24, 1941. Source: Collection 302. CNS Archives.

Fixing Wage Rates A deceptively simple question emerged over the winter of 1940–41: what should the wage rates be for local labor on the new American and Canadian bases? Many Newfoundlanders hoped that the Americans would agree to pay the higher wages common on the mainland. Newfoundland employers, however, insisted that local rates be respected. The wage question represented one of the most troublesome problems created by the friendly invasion. According to Newfoundland Governor Humphrey Walwyn, base contractors from the United States by paying higher wages threatened to “upset the whole labour system.”32 The government, he reported, was “alert to prevent this disturbance” and “succeeded in keeping rates of wages for unskilled workmen down to a reasonable level.” The government’s efforts proved so successful that the labor costs were just a fraction of what the United States had originally budgeted. According to the financial records of Newfoundland Base Command, the U.S. Army saved as much as two-thirds of its projected labor costs, or $18.5 million (U.S.), in the first sixteen months alone.33 In effect, the British and Newfoundland governments pressured the United States into lowering the wages it paid local labor. For their part, the British advised Washington of the “difficulties which might arise if the rates of pay to be paid by the United States authorities to the laborers employed in the construction of the bases were to be substantially in excess of the local

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market rates.”34 In January 1941, these efforts secured a verbal promise from the Americans to consult the colony or dominion before setting wages.35 The secretary of the navy, Frank Knox, directed that a prevailing wage clause be inserted into all construction contracts on January 28.36 But unbeknownst to the British, President Franklin D. Roosevelt quietly ordered the U.S. Army and Navy to pay “top scale” rather than “average scale” wages.37 That is to say that the American armed forces would pay local labor at a rate of pay comparable to the best local employers. The decision to pay slightly above the going rate was designed, perhaps, to make the Americans appear more generous than the British. It proved to be a brilliant strategy as it secured labor in a tight market and won the Americans considerable public approval. Having apparently induced the U.S. government to agree to a prevailing wage policy at the leased bases, the British government subsequently denied having anything to do with this decision.38 When questioned in the House of Commons, the British government publicly disavowed any responsibility. Officials in the Colonial Office knew otherwise. The “position of Great Britain and the United States,” one wrote, stemmed from a fear that “considerable labour trouble” might arise if the American bases paid more than the going rate.39 Arthur Creech-Jones, a Labour Party Member of Parliament, suggested that reactionary colonial governments had induced the United States to pay a prevailing rate that was far too low.40 He had a point. The wage rate policy, if vigorously enforced, had the effect of prolonging Depression-era wages in British territories hosting American bases. This was especially true given that the prevailing wage standard acted as a ceiling and not a floor. While these diplomatic notes crossed the Atlantic, base construction was already underway in Newfoundland. This early start meant that the wage issue was also being negotiated on the ground. Sir Wilfrid Woods, the career British civil servant appointed commissioner of public works, took the lead on the wage issue. According to confidential biographical data compiled by the U.S. consul general, Woods was a “conservative in every meaning of the word.”41 He often argued, for example, for the saving of money and for the most efficient expenditure of funds. Woods’ conservativism would not only shape Newfoundland’s wartime wage policy but shaped the wider policy adopted in other base colonies. On January 17, 1941, an American engineer at Argentia asked Newfoundland to furnish him with the prevailing rates of pay. Commissioner Woods telegraphed the following response: “Rates of pay for unskilled labour twenty five cents important that this should not be disturbed.”42 This curt message was quickly followed by a more lengthy explanation of Woods’ thinking on the subject: The Government is necessarily interested in the rates paid by the Americans and Canadians who are just now becoming active in this country. The Newfoundland Government cannot afford to pay more than 25¢ per hour for unskilled labour and it is important that this rate should not be upset by the new employers. There is bound to be dissatisfaction when different rates are paid and as I have already said, this Government is not in a position to increase its rate.43

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Figure 3.5 Photograph. Naval Air Station. Argentia, Newfoundland. Cigarettes Unloaded from the S.S. Torungen. June 12, 1941. Source: Collection 302. CNS Archives.

To ensure that there was no mistaking his wishes, Woods informally let it be known to the visitors that their wisest course for the time being was to pay the government rates which were all but unchanged from the 1930s.44 Despite the adamant position adopted by Woods with the newcomers, the Commission had yet to decide on its wage policy. To this end, Woods circulated a memorandum on 17 January calling on the government to discourage the visiting forces from paying more than the government rate of 25 cents per hour for unskilled labor: I feel sure, however, that unless we encourage other large employers to keep in step with us the problem will get out of hand. If the Canadians and Americans, under the pressure of the urgent character of their work, adopt a higher standard of wages than that of other good employers there will be a sudden demand for higher wages all round.45

Woods found it “neither practical nor sound” for the Commission to declare itself neutral in the matter. He justified his stance as a necessary step toward full employment. Higher wages, he warned, would convince employers to employ fewer people. Woods also expressed the fear that a sharp increase in wages might “kill” the vulnerable mining, forestry and fishing industries. It was a widely shared view in official circles, that the wartime bubble of prosperity would burst once the foreign bases had been completed.

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Woods also responded to those who had suggested to him that there was no great need for the government to control wages. The higher wages traditionally offered by the paper companies should not, he insisted, be cited as proof that the military authorities could pay substantially more than the “general level” without disturbing it. As both Bowater’s Newfoundland and the Anglo-Newfoundland Development Company hired mainly permanent local residents in Corner Brook and Grand Falls respectively, they had little effect on the wages paid outside the two company towns. By contrast, the base construction sites would attract thousands of Newfoundlanders from across the island. Hence, whatever rates were established by the military authorities would soon become the standard for all other employers: “The argument will be irresistible that anything less than the Canadians and Americans are willing to pay must be too low; that this Government should treat its own labour at least as well as the Canadians and Americans treat their labour in this country.”46 Woods urged the Commission to keep its role secret. He feared that if word got out it would invite public criticism and bolster trade unionism in Newfoundland. His advice to the other appointed commissioners governing the dominion was characteristically blunt: “I think the wisest course of action at this stage is to refuse point blank to reveal any discussions we may have had or may hereafter have with the Canadian and Americans on the subject of wage rates on the grounds that these are confidential.” In the meantime, he hoped that the foreign employers would be convinced to respect the government rates. The other commissioners concurred and directed Woods to act generally upon the lines described in his memorandum.47 Holding Down Wages The government’s behind-the-scenes efforts to hold down wages did not go unnoticed by the hundreds of Argentia residents forced to make way for the bases in the middle of the winter. Many of these people resisted relocation until such time as they were compensated for their lost homes and property. Area residents also insisted on the right to negotiate wage rates directly with the United States “without Government interference.”48 When asked to clarify the government’s position on the wage issue at a public meeting in Argentia, Woods would say only that the question was one of the utmost importance to the future economic welfare of Newfoundland. In what would become a familiar refrain, he added that the government had no power to fix the rate of wages paid by the Canadian and American authorities. This claim, while technically true, did not acknowledge the influence that the Newfoundland government exercised. As Woods expected, the government’s effort to hold down wages dovetailed with the desire of the United States and (especially) Canada to minimize construction costs. Lieutenant Colonel Philip G. Bruton, the district engineer for the Army Corps of Engineers, asked Woods on January 27 to review the rates proposed by the United States and make “such modifications”

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as necessary “to bring them into conformance with the local prevailing rates.”49 While this consultation was consistent with the newly made promise to the British, Roosevelt’s secret order to pay slightly more than the going rate soon came into play. Paying the local prevailing rate no doubt enjoyed a certain logic, but it presupposed the existence of a Bureau of Labour that maintained accurate wage statistics. No such institution existed in 1940s Newfoundland. Woods later conceded to the Royal Canadian Navy that there was simply no method of establishing a “fair wage rate” for labour outside the government’s payroll.50 Newfoundland’s own labor relations officer, a position created in 1942, similarly confirmed that without properly collected and compiled statistics it was impossible to be sure what the prevailing wages were.51 How then did the Newfoundland government determine the wage standard for a myriad of occupational job-types? It adopted the existing wage schedule of the Department of Public Works as the standard. This stand proved advantageous on two counts. First, the occupational categories in the department’s wage schedule approximated those required at the base construction sites. But more importantly, as the government wage rates tended to be among the lowest in the country, the policy allowed the government to save money. Thus, when the Army Corps of Engineers inquired

Figure 3.6 Photograph. Naval Air Station. Argentia, Newfoundland. Cutting Off Plank for Dock Extension. June 11, 1941. Source: Collection 302. CNS Archives.

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into government and private sector wage schedules, the government deliberately forwarded only its own (lower) wage rates. In spite of these efforts, the Army Corps of Engineers obtained a copy of the wages paid by Dominion Steel and Coal at its Bell Island mine and those paid by the Atlas Construction Company at the Canadian air base at Gander, using them to justify a somewhat higher schedule than that of the Newfoundland government. Of fifty-seven occupational categories, only eleven paid as poorly at the Department of Public Works. As table 3.2 shows, the Americans proposed to pay more, at times significantly more, than the Newfoundland government. In response, Wilfrid Woods arranged a meeting with Lieutenant Colonel Bruton in yet another bid to hold down wages. Bruton agreed to roll back wages for a number of occupational classes including drillers, laborers, painters, powder men, rigger foremen, riggers, and watchmen.52 The most important of these changes was the agreement to lower the hourly wage of unskilled laborers, the single largest occupational group, from 35 to 30 cents per hour. The downwardly revised American wage schedule was released to the public the following day. The Commission also recommended the maintenance of regional wage differentials whereby government employees were paid more in St. John’s than in rural Newfoundland. The resulting patchwork of government rates for road work proved to be arbitrary in the absence of reliable wage data. Even before the war, road managers sometimes found it difficult to justify to their employees why those living on one side of a particular line should earn one rate and those on the other side another. On this matter, however, the Commission of Government failed to convince the United States to conform to past practice. U.S. Army and Navy base contractors agreed instead to make all wage rates uniform across Newfoundland.53 Lieutenant Colonel Bruton told Woods that this decision could not be avoided as the base contractors required a great deal of labor drawn from distant points of the island. Not surprisingly, Woods was not pleased by this turn of events. In adopting a universal standard for the whole island, even after the Canadians had agreed to respect Newfoundland’s regional rates, the Americans created a situation where their wages greatly surpassed those formerly predominating outside St. John’s. The Newfoundland government’s attempt to regulate wages failed in another important respect. To his future regret, Woods had not foreseen the employment of large numbers of women at the foreign bases. As a result, the wage schedule created in early 1941 did not include female wage categories such as waitresses, laundresses and clerical workers. This oversight worked to the advantage of many women as the United States could set its own wage rates. Over the course of the war, the Newfoundland government had trouble filling vacant female jobs and repeatedly complained about the high wages paid to base clerical staff. Local elites also complained about the rising cost of domestic help. Public demands for higher wages grew louder in light of ineffective or non-existent government price controls. Wage earnings were thus quickly

Table 3.2 Wages Proposed for Selected Occupations at U.S. Army and Navy Bases in Relation to Other Major Employers, February 1941 (Cents per Hour) Occupation

Department of Public Works

Atlas Construction Company

Dominion Steel and Coal

Proposed by U.S. Army and Navy

Wage Rates Implemented after Consultation

Finish Carpenter Carpenter Laborer Mechanic Painter Rigger Watchman

— 40, 35, and 30 25 40 35 40 25

45 40 35 50 45 40 $3.50 (12 hour day)

— 49.5 28 56 — — 29

50 45 35 45 50 50 35

50 45 30 45 45 45 30

Source: Philip G. Bruton to Wilfrid W. Woods, February 25, 1941, File: G/39/3, GN 4/1/D, PANL.

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eroded by wartime inflation. The cost of living in Newfoundland, always higher than in either Canada or the United States, increased another 57.8 percent between 1938 and 1945.54 Those residents on fixed incomes such as the wives of servicemen were the hardest hit.55 Unskilled laborers also found their take-home pay of decreasing value. With the exception of messenger boys, they were the lowest paid male occupational group on the foreign bases, accounting for almost 40 percent of the total payrolls.56 It was not surprising, then, that laborers would be the first to demand higher wages. They faced an uphill battle as the entire wage schedule was scaled upward from the hourly rate for general labor. In effect, a raise for laborers meant a raise for all male employees. Raucous public meetings, ultimatums and loosely organized unions at Argentia and Fort Pepperrell followed the publication of the first wage schedule in February 1941. Delegates from the many small trade unions in St. John’s, for example, resolved that there should be a 40 cents minimum.57 One unidentified laborer wrote to the Evening Telegram stating that Newfoundland was the only place in the British Empire where wages had not risen since the onset of war: Our American and Canadian friends are paying the lowest rates of wages for unskilled labour. We know that the rates of pay in the United States for general labour is much higher than the above. Ninety five cents an hour was the rate quoted in one of our newspapers a few weeks ago. Surely we in Newfoundland are worth at least forty cents an hour for general labour.58

The Evening Telegram also reported that workers at Argentia were greatly dissatisfied with the rates of pay. To defend their collective interests, upward of 200 laborers formed the Federation of Workers Union in March 1941. All of the union’s officers, save one resident of Fox Harbour, belonged to the Argentia area. In his report of the meeting, Constable James Heaney wrote that these were very well educated and sensible men. They were, he concluded, “very good men for the positions if there must be a union.”59 The new vicepresident of the union, James Houlihan, reportedly claimed that only the Commission of Government was opposed to higher wages. While government officials privately complained that the initial wages paid by the Americans to be “generally higher than we pay,” ordinary residents had expected a much higher rate of pay.60 In light of public criticism, a revised wage schedule appeared in March 1941. The most notable change was the subdivision of the old laborer category. Under the new scale, laborers could earn as much as 35 cents an hour. Emphasizing the significance of these changes, Lieutenant Colonel Bruton told the Evening Telegram that as soon as a laborer showed adaptability he would be placed in the senior wage category. Carpenters were likewise divided into two groupings. In practice, the subdivision of job classifications meant an increase in pay for most workers. Newfoundland labor was nothing if not adaptable. Government officials in the meantime developed contingency plans in case the March 1941 changes did not satisfy organized labor. In a second

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Figure 3.7 Photograph. Naval Air Station. Argentia, Newfoundland. Sheet Piling #1 to 423 at the Seaplane Parking Area. September 12, 1941. Source: Collection 302. CNS Archives.

memorandum on the troublesome problem, dated April 29, Woods informed his colleagues that Newfoundland trade unionists continued to insist on a 40 cents per hour base rate for unskilled labor. Having discussed the matter with Lieutenant Colonel Bruton, Woods believed the government was faced with a decision: I imagine that the Canadians and Americans might fall into line if the Newfoundland Government set 40¢ per hour for common labour as a minimum wage for its own employees, but I think the consequences of such action would do harm to Newfoundland’s economy. Certainly it would be unreasonable for Government to take this action without consultation with the larger employers throughout the country. My own view is that the Government should be in no hurry to alter its own rate of 25¢ an hour for common labour on road work and similar jobs.61

If the unions persisted with their demands, Woods argued that the government could afford a nominal ten to 15 percent increase. If this offer should fail to satisfy, the government was prepared to “give protection” to those workers willing to break the strike. The wage issue refused to go away. Complaints could still be heard in June when the secretary of the Newfoundland Board of Trade visited Argentia.62 H.T. Renouf reported serious dissatisfaction among many local

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employees. The inferior wages, Renouf heard, had the effect of giving Newfoundlanders an inferiority complex in relation to their highly paid American and Canadian co-workers. In the busy summer months of 1941, about 1,000 laborers walked off their jobs at Fort Pepperrell for better pay. They now wanted a raise from 35 cents per hour to 50 cents. George D. Hopper reported that the U.S. Army commander had explained to the strikers that the rate of pay was a “matter of law” and that base contractors could not unilaterally grant wage increases without a proper investigation of the prevailing rates and a decision from Washington.63 These objective criteria were a thin veil indeed. Hopper momentarily feared that the strikers would have to be removed from the base by military escort, but this “extreme measure” was avoided in view of “possible political repercussions.” By the following day, almost all of the strikers had returned to work. As table 3.3 shows, the strike nonetheless contributed to the U.S. decision to revise the wage scale upward to 40 cents in September 1941. Only then did the Department of Public Works follow suit. Over the course of the war, the Commission of Government faced criticism from both business and labor. An August 1941 editorial in the Newfoundland Trade Review, for example, highlighted the concerns of the business community: There is a danger for this country along the economic lines it is traveling today. People in certain sections are earning a scale of wages much greater than they had ever known—and spending it as fast as they make it. In most Table 3.3 Changes in Hourly Wages for Local Employees of Newfoundland Base Command (United States) and Its Contractors, 1941–45 Occupation

First Wage Schedule

February 27, 1941

September 12, 1941

March 9, 1944

February 7, 1945

Carpenter, Finisher Carpenter Checker Electrician Labourer (all classes) Mechanic Painter Rigger

—

50

55

65

55–70

45 40 60 30

45 40 60 30–35

50 45 65 40

55 — 65 40

45–50 40–45 65–75 37–46

40 50 40

45 40–45 40–50

50 50 55

55–70 50 55

65–75 45–50 —

Sources: The information found in the table derives from a compilation of a wide variety of archival documents. Harold B. Quarton, U.S. Vice Consul, “Financial and Economic Conditions in Newfoundland during March 1941,” 31 March 1941, File 1941: 310–628, RG 84: St. John’s Newfoundland Consulate General. General Records, 1936–1949, NAR A; Philip G. Bruton, District Engineer, District Memo #93, 12 September 1941, File: G/39/2, Volume 1, GN 4/1/D, PANL; A. A. Whitesell, Lt. Colonel, Assistant Chief of Staff, G-4 Office, Fort Pepperrell, 7 February 1945, File 248, “Allowances, Pay and Salaries,” Box 53, RG 338: NBC, NAR A; and, A.J. Macdonald, Principal Clerk, Labor Board to Tech. Sgt. Howard, Headquarters Detachment, U.S. Naval Operating Base, 9 March 1944, File: “Wage Survey,” Box 25, RG 338: NBC, NAR A.

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cases these higher wages are due to the presence of forces of occupation in this country for, in spite of protests heard that attempts have been made to keep down wages, it is clearly evident that the scale paid by the occupation forces is above the level that had existed here previously, or is still being paid by local concerns.64

To the annoyance of the government, some base contractors told their Newfoundland employees that they would like to pay higher wages, but the Commission of Government would not let them. One such incident led Gander truck driver Malcolm Moss to write Commissioner Woods to determine whether or not the government had deprived him of a pay raise: On behalf of the truck drivers working with the Belmont Construction Company I would ask if you could make us acquainted with the reason why us Newfoundland drivers are not entitled to the same rate of pay, as a Canadian driver, working side by side with us, and doing the same work, yet getting fifteen cents (15¢) per hour more than us. We Newfoundland drivers are getting forty five cents per hour. When the question of more pay, five cents (5¢) more per hour was put to the company, they refused because the Newfoundland Government had fixed a standard rate for truck drivers at forty five (45¢). This I think is very unfair if it is correct. We have to pay one dollar per day for board . . . . If us Newfoundland Drivers would get more money, per day, I cannot see that it would affect the government of our country in any way but would bring more money into circulation. For my part I am a married man, naturally I want to support my wife and family. Now that the price of food stuffs and clothing has soared to a high level, it demands a very good wage to make both ends meet.65

In responding to Moss, the government assured him that “no rate has so far been fixed by the Government . . . except in the case of its own truck drivers.”66 But rumors to the contrary continued to circulate. In December 1943, the editor of the Twillingate Sun privately called on the government to clarify this “old charge”: “There has been talk of our men working on Base Construction not getting pay enough according to what Contractors and Supers would pay. The Commission of Government is blamed for making agreements regarding lower wage scales. I hope you can give something for publication to refute this.”67 Claiming that open discussion on this question would not be in the “public interest,” Woods advised a fellow commissioner not to respond: “silence is the best policy.”68 The Economic Impact of the U.S. Bases The rippling effects of the base construction boom temporarily disrupted almost every sector of the economy. An unsettled labor market resulted in a situation where workers came and went as they pleased. Accordingly, the high turnover rates prevailing on the bases plagued virtually all other employers of labor. Even long established firms such as the Buchans Mining Company

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and the Anglo-Newfoundland Development Company reported that the turnover rate in 1942 was the highest ever. Production in the mining industry fell far below capacity due to an inability to recruit and retain experienced labor. Although the wartime market for copper, lead and zinc was unlimited, the Buchans Mining Company operated at only 76 percent capacity in 1942.69 The company complained of a distinct shortage of experienced men, who had to be replaced by others with no mining or milling experience. These new hires would remain on the job for only short periods. A confidential letter written by Buchans manager G.G. Thomas, and intercepted by wartime censors, outlined the problems faced by the company: The building of defense bases has made labor very scarce, the pity of it is that we have lost so many experienced men that we are down to about 75% capacity which means a considerable reduction in the production of lead, zinc, and copper—it is something we here cannot help—it does seem a pity when they are so badly needed. We have increased wages 20% or so but still it does not get us men—actually we get less work than before—our tons per man shift have fallen off—our costs have of course increased—there is a ceiling on prices of metals. I can only hope that with summer coming on we may get more men.70

The Dominion Steel and Coal Corporation similarly reported a scarcity of qualified personnel at its Bell Island mining operation.71 Stiff competition for labor likewise made it difficult for the paper companies to find sufficient numbers of men to work in their woods operations. The basic wage rates for seasonal loggers were set by the Woods Labour Board, a government created body composed of the representatives of management and the woods labor unions. Annual agreements on wages were considered “final and binding.”72 The minutes of the Woods Labour Board reveal the upward pressure on wage rates during the war, increasing fully 62 percent from 1939 to 1944.73 The problem of wage rates in Newfoundland was a knotty one for the paper companies. A.W. Bentley, Woods manager for Bowater’s, revealed at one meeting that: In Canada and the United States the Company does not decide the scale of wages, this is decided by the Government, because Canada and the U.S. industry is controlled by their Governments with a definite policy. Here we are trying to operate on a peace time basis and trying to sell our products to countries who have arranged their economy on a war time basis.74

Collective bargaining, albeit under the auspices of the Woods Labour Board, resulted in a situation where there were only informal wage controls in Newfoundland and often stringent controls on newsprint prices elsewhere. The paper companies were caught in between. Bowater’s Newfoundland began to experiment with new technologies and cutting strategies in late 1941. The shortage of dockworkers at the Corner Brook piers encouraged the company to mechanize the unloading of

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pulpwood. A crane proved to be far more efficient than labor gangs using tackles and slings.75 The general manager also reported that the company shifted the location of some of its woods operations from remote interior areas to coastal areas. This new strategy allowed many Newfoundlanders living in outports to log from the comfort of home and thus avoid paying camp fees for room and board. Yet the company’s success in using tugs, barges and booms to transport the wood to Corner Brook was mixed, as the first booms proved to be insufficient against the high winds and waves.76 The company’s willingness to experiment extended to other aspects of its woods operations. Unable to recruit a sufficient number of men, Bowater’s proposed as early as October 1941 to employ women in the wood camps. Starting in the vicinity of Stephenville, on Newfoundland’s west coast, where the labor shortage was particularly grave, the company proposed to operate “family camps” in addition to the regular (male) camps.77 Despite the shortage of men, the government strongly opposed the proposal. After the Commissioner of Natural Resources P.D.H. Dunn had his staff examine the legislation, he was disappointed to find that nothing prohibited the employment of women in the woods. Dunn emphatically believed that women could never become “loggers.” He urged Bowater’s Newfoundland to limit itself to the employment of married women in the cookhouse or the office, and only in those cases where their husbands also lived in the camp.78 In a June 1942 radio broadcast designed to recruit men for the paper industry, Dunn spoke to the scarcity of loggers on the island. He first appealed to the patriotism of his Newfoundland audience: “I tell you here and now that every man who takes a day off from construction work unnecessarily is making a present to Hitler and may be contributing to the downfall of the United Nations.” Absenteeism, he estimated, caused one-fifth of the available labor output to be lost. There would be no labor shortage in the woods operations of the paper companies, he reasoned, had they stayed on the job. In making his urgent appeal for woods labor, Dunn went so far as to imply that the very survival of the two mills was at stake: “Without these mills Newfoundland would be very much poorer.”79 Despite the best efforts of Dunn, the paper companies once again failed to find sufficient workers. There was an estimated 3,000 person short-fall in the spring of 1942. Newfoundland Rangers thus reported that most of the wood contractors did not get all their wood off for the spring drive.80 In fact, the mill owners were said to be unable to pay men enough wages to “induce them to give up work at Argentia to work in the woods.”81 In January 1943, the Anglo-Newfoundland Development Company reported that the great shortage of labor had resulted in a much reduced cut of only 50 percent of that which was expected.82 This shortfall convinced the Commission of Government to introduce national registration as a means of appraising the labor-power of Newfoundland. With higher wages now available on the base construction sites and the cost of living soaring, some unions escalated their demands for better wages. A strike at the Buchans mine and a work slow-down—involving a refusal to

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work nights or on Sundays—on the St. John’s docks forced the government to act. The Defense (Avoidance of Strikes and Lockouts) Regulations adopted in June 1941 enabled the Newfoundland government to intervene to settle disputes. Soon thereafter, the government adopted a second law—the Defense (Control and Conditions of Employment and Disputes Settlement) Regulations—that empowered it to appoint Trade Dispute Boards.83 Once appointed, these boards settled disputes through binding arbitration on the St. John’s docks, in a fluorspar mining operation at St. Lawrence, in the St. John’s wholesale and retail trade, among carpenters and in the iron ore mines of Bell Island. In each instance, wages were increased. The comings and goings of rural people reflected the occupational pluralism that had long been a feature of life in Newfoundland and Labrador. Thousands of base workers returned home to cut wood, prepare the garden, make home improvements, or to celebrate Christmas and the New Year with their families. Few Newfoundlanders shifted their attention to construction work entirely. Rangers in coastal Labrador, for example, reported that residents incorporated base construction into their seasonal round. A May 1942 report from Cartwright, Labrador was typical: “Those going to work [at the Canadian Air Base at Goose Bay] were mostly trappers finished with their trapping for the season, and those returning were mostly men coming home to fix up their fishing gear and post for the salmon season.”84 In many ways, the coming of the foreign armed services simply added “base work” to the occupational mix. Despite many dire predictions about a return to mass unemployment, virtually all of those displaced at the end of the construction boom in 1943 quickly found work in the woods and mines of the country as well as on the still-booming mainland.85 While the wartime labor shortage temporarily disrupted the island’s mining and forestry industries, it had a more longlasting effect on Newfoundland’s fisheries. The payment of wages to workers other than in currency had been prohibited in England since 1831, but the “truck system,” whereby workers were advanced goods supplied from the shop of the employer, continued to be commonly practiced by merchants in Newfoundland’s coastal communities more than a century later.86 Work at the bases, and the increased earnings that came with it, nonetheless resulted in substantive modifications to the seasonal round. A study of the fishing communities of inner Placentia Bay, for example, found that base employment resulted in a decline in subsistence agriculture and in decreased holdings of livestock and poultry.87 Fishers who had previously lived in their outport communities year-round and had tended livestock and gardens when not fishing, abandoned these activities to work for the Americans. This deviation from longstanding seasonal labor patterns proved lucrative, the average income of fishers in the area increased from $135.43 in 1935 to $641.51 in 1945. A similar pattern emerged in the agricultural settlement of Markland, forty miles inland of Argentia. Markland was the largest resettlement scheme

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undertaken by the Commission of Government during the 1930s. In 1934–35, 120 families made a new start there with the government’s assistance.88 Fields were cleared and schools, churches, and homes were built. The American occupation of Argentia, however, effectively ended Markland’s chances for long-term farming success. As residents took jobs at the U.S. Army and Navy bases, fields were abandoned, fences fell and livestock was killed off. The only reason that the resettlement scheme at Lourdes on the Port au Port peninsula on Newfoundland’s west coast fared better was due to the fact that residents could commute to their new jobs at the U.S. base in Stephenville (see chapter 6).89 But here, too, few fields were being cultivated. The effect of base employment on the fishery was uneven as fishers showed their preference for certain kinds of economic activity over others. The quantity of codfish landed in 1941 was “one of the lowest on record” and failed to rebound to a normal level the next season.90 While the inshore fishery weathered the war surprisingly well, the Bank and Labrador fisheries were disrupted by the temporary diversion of fishers into base construction.91 The war at sea also played a part. Newfoundlanders, it seems certain, preferred to work the inshore fishery in their own boats than work as “sharemen”— who received a share of the season’s catch—on off-shore Grand Banks or

Figure 3.8 Photograph. Naval Air Station. Argentia, Newfoundland. Temporary Laundry. Preparing Sheets for the Dryer. May 14, 1942. Source: Collection 302. CNS Archives.

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Labrador schooners. As a result, merchants had great difficulty finding crews. In the community of Grand Bank, which was the main center for the Banks fishery, some schooners had to quit before the season was over once the crews left to work at Argentia.92 Only those firms that paid their crews a monthly wage in legal tender were able to continue operation. To dissuade fishers from working at the bases, the government issued a public warning in May 1941, claiming that the Americans did not need unskilled construction labor; fishers need not apply.93 It soon became apparent, however, that the Commission had grossly underestimated the future demand for unskilled and semi-skilled workers on the bases. In the months that followed, the enormous drawing power of these bases was such that fish merchants began to complain bitterly about men abandoning the off-shore fishery in order to work construction. One such complainant, L.M. Hyde of the Change Islands off the north coast, accused a rival company of sending men to work in base construction even though they were needed at home: “This is a fishing settlement, always has been and we do not consider it good enough for our fishermen to be induced to temporarily abandon it for a year or two when all facilities are here available for the continuous prosecution of both the shore and Labrador fisheries.” 94 This complaint triggered a series of written exchanges within the Department of Natural Resources about the nature of the problem at hand. While Commissioner J.H. Gorvin acknowledged that the government could not interfere with the men’s “right of choice of occupation,” he nonetheless believed that if the credit system could be cooperatively organized, the men would opt to stay in the fishery.95 His chief cooperative officer, N. MacNeil, however, advised the commissioner that there was, in fact, little the government could do about the “exodus.” Instead, he urged Gorvin to establish in the vicinity of the bases, the necessary machinery that would enable these men to save as much money as possible: “Although fishing is the traditional occupation of the outport people, yet, there has been involved in the prosecution of this industry so much hardship and meager returns that the fishermen will gladly leave their fishing boats if any other alternative presents itself. There is also the point that the scarcity of cash as a result of barter methods has enhanced the value of money in the eyes of the fishermen.” Any attempt to dissuade these men, he concluded, would prove “futile.” The opportunity to earn cash wages at the base construction sites was not to be missed.96 On February 17, 1942, the newly appointed Commissioner of Natural Resources, P.D.H. Dunn, issued another “Important Notice” concerning Newfoundland’s economic outlook. Hoping to convince fishers to stay in their boats, Dunn confidently predicted that the high employment levels on the base construction sites would continue only until June and that 90 percent would be laid-off by November. Dunn urged fishers to avoid construction work: “Those fishermen who have already left the fishery or who may intend to leave it for other employment should consider their position very

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carefully.” 97 An earlier draft of the warning had included even stronger language, but it was dropped for fear that the U.S. government might have accused the Commission “of hindering their war effort.” 98 Within weeks of the government’s warning, it emerged that employment levels at the bases would remain at peak levels until mid-1943 and decline gradually thereafter. To the consternation of many, the Americans even had to appeal for 500 additional laborers to replace those persuaded by Dunn’s message to return home.99 Beneath the headline “Somebody Blundered,” the Evening Telegram now called on the commission to explain this mistake to the public: “Somebody has certainly been misleading the people of this country and in fairness to all the true facts should be forthcoming.”100 The public’s anger was fed by a suspicion that the government was doing the bidding of the fish merchants. While nobody had a ready answer for the Telegram at the time, archival records indicate that the government may have deliberately distorted the situation in order to shore up the troubled fishery.101 Eventually, however, construction work tapered off and the majority of fishers returned to their boats. A total of 18,000 men were occupied in fishing in 1943, 5,000 more than the previous year. But they did so, on the basis of a new cash economy. With the truck system in ruins, the Newfoundland government felt it was time to abolish the practice. Legislation was drafted to prohibit the payment of wages of workmen save domestic servants, loggers and “sharemen” who were engaged in the prosecution of the fishing voyage, otherwise than in money.102 This act, adopted in April 1944, confirmed that the changes that had already been effected in coastal communities around the island would become permanent. Conclusion The coming of the Americans brought both prosperity and dislocation to Newfoundland. Although historians have noted the debate over the wages paid to local civilians employed by the U.S. Army and Navy, there has been no sustained study of the issue. No connection has hitherto been made between the Newfoundland government’s drive to hold down wages and the high rate of labor turnover experienced on the bases and in primary industries. The government’s partial success in keeping base construction wages to a minimum, combined with its public appeals to return to fishing and logging, encouraged Newfoundlanders to combine base work with other traditional activities. As a result, thousands of Newfoundlanders moved back and forth between the base construction sites and their homes, depending on the season. The government’s determined effort to encourage a return to the seasonal fisheries and to the woods operations of the paper companies had the desired effect. It was achieved, however, at the expense of the visiting forces. The constant comings and goings of their Newfoundland employees were interpreted by the visitors as an absenteeism problem. Had the Commission of Government elected to regulate base

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construction wages through a labor board, as it did in the woods industry, the turnover rate might not have been as high, and foreign observers might have been less likely to assume that the unstable work force reflected certain intrinsic qualities of the Newfoundland character. The myth of the “lazy native” thus did not originate in race prejudice alone, but from class prejudice as well. In the next chapter, we see how race and class worked in tandem in the British Caribbean.

Chapter 4

“You Can’t Eat Dignity”: Race and Labor in the British Caribbean

Journalist Joseph M. Jones claimed in the February 1944 issue of Fortune

Magazine that pro-American feeling in the British Caribbean had dwindled over the course of the war. The goodwill generated by the creation of thousands of jobs on the U.S. bases had been largely squandered, he argued—a victim of Jim Crow racism. To illustrate his point, Jones cited the story of a West Indian man who was asked how he liked working for the British compared to the Americans. “Well,” the man replied, “the British gives you 50 cents and calls you mister; the American gives you a dollar and a half and calls you ‘Hey, George.’ ”1 The inhabitants of the Caribbean base colonies, like the man in the story, Jones concluded: chose dignity over dollars. But was this in fact the case? One reader of the article, William H. Christensen, the U.S. vice consul in Antigua, believed otherwise. To assume that “native” West Indians preferred to live “on the verge of semi-starvation, and tolerate bad housing, stinking sanitation, disease and filth simply because they are too proud to accept extra wages at the cost of their ‘dignity’ is asking too much,” he wrote in a report to his superiors at the State Department. In his estimation, the inhabitants of the base colonies would gladly “exchange their nationality for economic benefits.” The call for dignity over dollars was limited, he reported, to the emerging class of black civil servants in the region. A group, he surmised, who would rather “be found dead in the fish market than call one of their black servants ‘mister’ or ‘miss.’ The employment and wages brought to the region by the bases outweighed all other concerns, racial or otherwise.” He concluded by saying that the masses “can’t eat dignity.”2 Much the same framing of the issue, and subsequent division of opinion, is apparent in the recent historiography of the wartime Caribbean. In Cold War in a Hot Zone, Gerald Horne finds that the U.S. bases introduced race segregation and racially motivated violence to the region. Shootings and brawls were “commonplace” as U.S. troops proved to be “trigger happy and

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prone to pulling out knives and guns.”3 Horne emphasizes the “invasiveness” of U.S. personnel in the region, transforming the bases into “nodes of resistance, not least due to the often burdensome conditions that prevailed there.”4 A very different picture, however, emerges in historian Harvey Neptune’s 2007 book, Caliban and the Yankees. Neptune dismisses criticism of the American occupation of Trinidad as a by-product of the nationalism of the decolonization era. He finds instead that the U.S. bases served to destabilize the island’s racial order, creating opportunity for nonwhite residents. American servicemen were therefore greeted by Trinidadians as liberators rather than as occupiers.5 Can Horne and Neptune both be right? There is little evidence that West Indians stayed away from the U.S. bases. To the contrary, they pushed and shoved their way onto overcrowded trains, boats, trucks, and buses in order to have the opportunity to work at the bases. Quite unlike Newfoundland where white workers were often accommodated on base, Caribbean labor had to commute daily to work or move their families to adjacent areas. The days were therefore long. There were two workingmen’s trains that brought Trinidadian laborers from Port of Spain to the army base in the interior, returning each evening. The first left the city at 6:20 a.m., arriving at Cumuto at 7:45 a.m. The last returning train was scheduled to arrive back at Port of Spain at 11 p.m. The Trinidad railway carried record numbers of passengers during the war. According to official estimates, it carried 80 percent more people in 1941 than it had a year earlier and twice again in 1942.6 The railway was “taxed beyond its capacity.”7 The problem of overcrowded trains became apparent in August 1941 when the Trinidad Guardian ran a story written by a journalist who braved the train journey home, becoming “a participant in the drama of dust and sweat.” He told readers that when the history of the U.S. bases comes to be written, “one of today’s dramas that the historian is likely to portray is how the workmen’s train to and from Cumuto used to be overcrowded. But overcrowded is not quite the right word. It is inadequate and tight-crammed and rammed seem more appropriate.”8 The journey home began with a “stampede” of 8,000 workers who jockeyed for space in the trucks that would take them to the trains. The trucks, “some of them monster things, get filled up with human cargoes.” At the station it was every man for himself. So great was the human tide that when the journalist expressed aloud his doubt that he would ever find a place on one of the departing trains, he was promptly advised by a stranger that “it doesn’t pay to be tame here. You have to make up your mind to crush or get crushed. That is the way here.” What happened next needs to be quoted at length: When the workmen’s train bore down on the crowd, hundreds surged forward letting the engine pass inches from their chests so reckless and eager was everyone to be the first to get in. Five carriages, two open wagons and a brake van made up the train and every one was already packed—a condition accounted for by the fact that the train had come from the Cumuto station

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some two miles or so away . . . . But agog as every carriage and truck was, hundreds of the crowd some how found themselves in and on the train . . . . People occupied the seats, sat upon the back-rests, stood up in the spaces between seats, invaded the couplings, thronged the floorboards—40 persons on the floor board alone. They clung on like leeches for dear life . . . . The train seemed to groan as with deep labour, it pulled forward.

The awed journalist estimated that there were at least 200 people crammed into the carriage in which he found himself. He noted that people seemed to take things in stride and that an atmosphere of “carnival merriment” prevailed. It took two hours for the train to travel the twenty miles to Port of Spain. Merriment sometimes turned to anger when overcrowded trains broke down or ran past stations, leaving commuters stranded.9 In September 1941, workmen traveling atop special workmen’s trains hurled stones at railway stations as a protest against the late arrival of a train.10 This protest was met with an angry article in the Guardian, a newspaper associated with the white elite, which cast it as another display of hooliganism: “It is a recent habit of the workmen to stone stations violently whenever trains are late on evenings.” In the aftermath, police squads and detectives were posted at stations and several people were arrested. The newspaper editorialized that police should stop the “dangerous practice” of riding on floorboards and roofs of trains.11 That very day, two men riding on the floorboards fell to their deaths. This latest incident forced a temporary recasting of the issue at the Trinidad Guardian into one that involved a “grave neglect of duty” and suggested for the first time that more trains needed to be placed into service.12 The rolling stock was clearly inadequate to the heightened demand. How many more accidents must occur before something is done, the editors asked. The Railway, for its part, demanded that the “disorderly behaviour of workmen must cease” or the trains would be withdrawn.13 When 1,000 people who joined the train at the Tunapuna railway station were ordered off the floor boards and roofs, about 1,800 people left the train in protest and stones were thrown. Nobody seemed to notice that the transportation crisis was a direct result of the U.S. refusal to countenance on-base accommodation for its West Indian workforce. It also passed notice that the United States did not arrange for alternative transportation until the problem of “hauling natives” to Fort Read by government railroad proved impossible, so the Americans shifted to buses and trucks.14 The overcrowded trains therefore illustrate a discernable pattern of popular anger directed against colonial authorities rather than the U.S. visiting forces. This chapter interrogates the “dollars or dignity” framework that has structured our understanding of the U.S. presence in the region during the war. The unmistakable hunger for base employment by large masses of people attests to the attractiveness of the work, but were they choosing dollars over dignity? Can a person have one without the other? In a colonial setting, the boundaries between class and race blurred to a point that it became difficult

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to distinguish one from the other. This was particularly true in the British Caribbean where the coercion of labor under slavery and after, and the resulting struggles for freedom and justice, was central to its history. Historian O. Nigel Bolland has written that there was an “intimate relationship” between race and class.15 In effect, race consciousness was an integral part of the class formation process and vice-versa. Had the United States undertook to plant Jim Crow in the Base Colonies, as many in the region feared in 1940, the race issue would have exploded like a bomb. Fearing this, perhaps, Franklin D. Roosevelt adopted a firm policy to respect local practice and custom in matters of race. As we have already seen in Newfoundland, the United States also agreed to pay local employees prevailing wage rates, which pleased colonial elites but angered the laboring classes. When faced with protest, the United States often acted decisively to mitigate the problem—issuing apologies, replacing ineffectual commanders, transferring malcontent troops, raising wages or otherwise improving working conditions, and replacing white Marine guards with nonwhite civilian guards at naval installations. These actions proved largely successful in arbitrating disputes with base workers, but did little to dissuade West Indian nationalists and trade unionists who viewed the bases as a symbol of colonial oppression and as a potential threat to their postwar aspirations. The Labor Revolt and Plantation Agriculture To assess the impact of the bases we must first consider the centrality of plantation agriculture and the labor unrest that swept the region during the depression decade. Sugar was still king in the Caribbean, producing 17 percent of the world’s sugar in 1939, but “the old king had been sick and declining for over a hundred years in some of the older colonies.”16 The region’s plantations were first worked by African slave labor and then by indentured servants. In fact, half a million East Indians came to British Guiana and Trinidad as indentured servants in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. This flow of humanity ended abruptly in 1917 when India abolished the practice, but the estate system lived on in much of the region.17 Sugar was, in the memorable words of Eric Williams and E. Franklin Frazer, the “spinal cord” of the region’s economy.18 Much of the industry was dominated by foreign capital and sugar remained the main crop in British Guiana, Trinidad, and Antigua. Sugar plantations accounted for four-fifths of the cultivated land in Antigua and employed one-third of the island’s population at the time of the American invasion. Before 1920, virtually all Trinidad laborers worked in agriculture, harvesting sugar, cocoa and coconuts.19 The deep depression in the world’s sugar market during the 1930s exasperated an already bad situation, producing mass unemployment, falling wages and malnutrition. Estate workers often lived in dilapidated barracks or shacks. Land redistribution was minimal. Several planters in Antigua discontinued production in the 1930s and rented the lands to tenant farmers,

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Table 4.1 Population and Geographic Area of Caribbean Base Colonies Territory Jamaica Trinidad St. Lucia Antigua British Guiana Bahamas

Area (square miles)

Population

4,404 1,864 233 108 89,480 4,404

1,250,000 (1943) 387,425 (1931) 73,770 (1942) 41,024 (1943) 376,146 (1946) 73,217

Source: File A7–1, “Intelligence—Collection and Dissemination of,” Box 22, RG 43: Anglo-American Caribbean Commission, 1940–46 and 1946–48. NAR A.

but the high rents charged caused great resentment.20 Colonial governments meanwhile saw their revenue, derived mainly from excise and customs duties, fall as much as 40 percent between 1929 and 1933.21 Without new investments from the “home” government in Britain, the region had earned the unenviable reputation of being Britain’s “slum empire.” A brief tour of the Caribbean base colonies (see table 4.1) reveals the continuing importance of the countryside to the economy. There were eleven great sugar estates in Trinidad that averaged 7,000 acres each. Two British companies controlled two-thirds of these lands.22 Of the 77,000 acres that they controlled, 40,000 was reportedly under estate cane, 12,000 acres was rented to farmers, 3,000 under other crops; 1,000 acres were dedicated for grazing, 8,000 acres were put to other uses.23 Yet Trinidad had the most diversified economy in the region. By 1937, 34,000 worked on sugar estates, 34,500 on cocoa plantations, and 9,000 in petroleum and asphalt.24 Trinidad’s oil sector produced fifteen million barrels of oil annually, representing 60 percent of the value of total exports. Neighboring British Guiana (or Guyana), located in the northeast corner of South America, had a land area larger than Great Britain. Almost 90 percent of the population, however, lived in a narrow band of settlement along 270 miles of coastline.25 Nearly half of the population of 347,000 was engaged in agriculture. Fully 43 percent of inhabitants were East Indian immigrants and their descendants and another 38 percent of the population were the descendants of former slaves. While 12.8 percent of the population was categorized as being of “mixed race” in 1940, Europeans accounted for only 8,505 people, or 2.5 percent of the population. As true elsewhere, the Portuguese (who numbered 2,126) were treated as a separate racial category and so were counted separately from other Europeans.26 Jamaica, the most populous country in the British West Indies, was similarly dependent on “slave-labor crops,” but in this case sugar, bananas, rum, and coffee.27 The smaller islands of St. Lucia and Antigua were almost entirely dependent on staples exports. St Lucia, “rugged and precipitous” with two sharp peaks, was one of the many small islands making up the British Windward Island group stretching from Guadeloupe down to Trinidad.

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Most people lived on estates.28 A similar situation prevailed in Antigua, the seat of the Colony of the Leeward Islands. The densely populated “sugar island,” roughly oval in shape with a clay plain rising gradually to volcanic peaks in the south and southwest, was completely deforested.29 The Leewards were viewed by the Americans as the “poorest and most neglected” of the British possessions in the Caribbean.30 This was certainly not the case with the Bahamas, a chain of twenty-nine inhabited islands along a 630-mile arc east of Florida. Economic prosperity on the main island of New Providence was derived from bootlegging, tourism, and retail. Like Bermuda, Nassau catered to rich American visitors and was in consequence highly segregated. In the “Out Islands,” where the U.S. base would be located, residents were dependent on the export of staples such as cotton, salt, pineapple, and sponges. A system of labor tenancy, or sharecropping, had created a class of dependent cultivators that kept the estates of absentee landlords intact.31 The collapse of the sponge and pineapple industries in the 1930s led to the out-migration of many destitute families.32 Given the pervasiveness of poverty in the region, the new U.S. bases were welcomed for the employment that they would bring. With the exception of the Bahamas, formal Jim Crow segregation did not exist in the British Caribbean. De facto segregation nonetheless reigned supreme. Historian O. Nigel Bolland noted that color might not have determined class membership “but it certainly affected them and racial status was closely correlated with class.”33 Writing in 1947, U.S. diplomat Paul Blanshard observed that “color distinctions” were not as obvious in the Caribbean as they are in the United States, because there is no rigid color line in public institutions. Few hotels, restaurants, theatres or even clubs exclude all persons with African blood. There are no Jim Crow railroads or railroad stations, no Jim Crow buses or planes. Even private schools usually admit enough colored students to safeguard them against being charged with complete exclusion. The laws of the Caribbean are all racially correct, that is to say, they do not sanction racial discrimination in any form.34

Despite the existence of a small black middle class, the “core” of which was the “old free coloured group in the slave society,” the colonies were controlled by a white elite.35 Whites constituted a tiny minority in all of the Caribbean base colonies, ranging from 2 to 10 percent of the population. While whites sat at the top of the social hierarchy, they were a diverse group—a mix of British-born officials, managers and overseers, businessmen, skilled workers, and local white settlers of British, French, and other ancestry. There was no real “poor white” community, according to historian Bridget Brereton.36 The franchise in these Crown Colonies, such as it was, was limited to a tiny minority of residents who met the minimum property requirements. In 1939, the percentage of the population entitled to vote in St. Lucia, British

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Guiana, and Trinidad were 2.2, 2.9, and 6.5 respectively.37 Each colony was administered by a white governor appointed by the British government assisted by an Executive Council he appointed and advised by a legislative body, a majority of whom were also appointed.38 Economic inequality and political disenfranchisement proved to be a deadly mix. Labor strikes, riots and protests swept the British Caribbean during the 1930s. Historian O. Nigel Bolland notes that the social upheaval began in Belize, Trinidad and British Guiana in 1934 and culminated in strikes and riots in Jamaica in 1938 and in Antigua and British Guiana in 1939.39 There were also disturbances in St. Lucia, Barbados and the Bahamas. British administrators responded with force. When 400 workers walked off the job in St. Lucia in November 1935, for example, the local governor declared a state of emergency and used armed police and militia to break the strike. A second strike that involved agricultural workers was similarly crushed. When two more St. Lucian estates were struck in 1937, colonial officials urged the planters not to raise wages above the “minimum wage” as it would destabilize other estates. In effect, “the so-called minimum wage was really a maximum.”40 Social unrest hit Trinidad’s sugar belt in 1934 and culminated in the “great labor rebellion” of 1937. There were island-wide protests and riots that lasted two weeks, growing out of a labor dispute in the oilfields. Fourteen civilians and two police officers were killed in various clashes.41 The British authorities were under “serious and sustained attack” by a regional labor movement influenced by a heady mix of Marxism and Garveyism.42 Pressure came from the streets and from well-educated black nationalist intellectuals and radical newspapers such as New Dawn in Trinidad and the Antiguan Magnet. The social unrest and political dissent surprised the British press and embarrassed the “home” government.43 A sense of failure sapped British pride in empire and further tarnished Britain’s reputation in the United States. In the wake of the violence, the British government was sharply questioned in the House of Commons. For historian Stephen Constantine, the 1930s were a watershed “during which the morality of colonialism and the record of Britain’s achievements were subjected to fierce criticism at home and from abroad. The stability of the empire was also threatened.”44 To placate its critics, the British government undertook two investigations into the labor situation. Labor advisor to Secretary of State for the Colonies, Major G. St. J. Orde Browne, produced a “Report on Labour Conditions in the West Indies” in 1939 that revealed shocking social inequalities. He concluded that racial tensions, exacerbated by industrial strife, were “growing steadily worse” in the region.45 The specter of the region’s slaveholding past overshadowed everything. “The old grievance of slavery,” reported Browne, “was revived and the white man became once more the oppressor, but in the new guise of the capitalist.”46 He noted that while the region was free of the kinds of racial violence that characterized the U.S. South and that colonial statutes contained “no trace of colour legislation,” de facto segregation prevailed and interracial contact was “strictly controlled.” Class and racial

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conflict were found to be one in the same as employers were generally white and the overwhelming majority of their employees were not. In his estimation, race prejudice and industrial unrest were part of the same overlapping problem. The Royal Commission, headed by Lord Moyne, appointed in 1938 to investigate the conditions prevailing in Britain’s Caribbean colonies, drew strikingly similar conclusions in 1940. The report was deemed so politically explosive that the British Cabinet only allowed the recommendations to be released during wartime. Among its recommendations were major new investments in regional development and welfare, improved health services and housing, gradual constitutional reform, an expanded franchise, and “responsible” trade unionism.47 The rest of the report would not be made public until war’s end. The two reports represented a “new era in imperial policy” with colonial officials imposing political reform and trade union legislation onto unsympathetic colonial elites.48 Until the Colonial Development and Welfare Act of 1940, Great Britain had no empire-wide strategy for colonial development.49 It was a highly decentralized empire covering one-quarter of the world’s land mass, where the governor administered and the Colonial Office supervised. The Act created a fund that would finance development projects in the region. To be eligible, however, colonial governments had to enact social reforms and appoint labor officers. Most of the colonies in the Caribbean quickly passed labor laws on the British model. In fact, only the resort colonies of the Bahamas and Bermuda defied reform thereby forfeiting the funds made available.50 Race and the Bases The coming of the Americans to the Caribbean base colonies was viewed with some trepidation in the region. Middle-class Creoles, fearing Jim Crow, were the most circumspect about the bases agreement. Many pointed to the Panama Canal Zone as an example of what might happen. The U.S.-controlled Zone had been cleared of Panamanians and a segregated world of “gold roll” white Americans and “silver roll” black West Indian labor brought there on contract had been planted. The gold and silver euphemisms did little to camouflage the fact that the Zone was largely remade in the image of the Jim Crow South. Many in the region feared that the ninety-nine-year leased bases might also become zones of segregation and exclusion. In a February 1941 article in the New Dawn, for example, A.C. Rienzi urged the government to ensure that Trinidadian laborers were not subject to racial discrimination while working in the leased areas.51 Would white U.S. servicemen impose their racial views on adjoining areas? Would middle-class Creoles in the professions, in government and in the police and judiciary be humiliated by the visitors? The potential for conflict over the race question was evident to everyone. To assess the situation in the region, President Roosevelt sent Charles Taussig, formerly of the American Molasses Company, and a close associate

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of the President, on an “economic mission” in late 1940.52 Taussig was asked to survey popular and official attitudes toward the U.S. bases, assess the social and economic conditions prevailing in the base colonies, and gauge the risk of revolt or subversion.53 To the surprise of some British officials, Taussig met with various sections of colonial society including planters, labor leaders, and government officials.54 Before leaving New York, he had consulted African American leaders and carried with him a letter of introduction from Walter White, Executive Secretary of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP).55 This letter opened doors to some frank discussion. Norman Manley, leader of the People’s National Party (PNP) in Jamaica, wrote Taussig after his visit to say that the great majority of Jamaicans welcomed the bases for the employment that they would bring. However, he added a caveat: “all thoughtful coloured Jamaicans are worried at the possibility of an intensification of colour problems in this Country. This is a very real and difficult colour question here, oddly enough more intense between fair and dark coloured people than anywhere else. We don’t want to make it worse.”56 The PNP had earlier lobbied for public discussion of the destroyers-for-bases deal with little success and called for the primacy of local law, a prohibition on the carrying of weapons off-base and the prohibition of “racial discrimination, separation or segregation similar to those imposed upon negroes in the Southern States of America and the Canal Zone.”57 In his final report, Charles Taussig indicated that the two defining moments in the history of the British Caribbean were emancipation from slavery in the 1830s and the labor rebellion of a century later. Recent events, he reported, had effected a “startling change” in official attitudes within the British Caribbean on social problems.58 A new colonial philosophy based on development and modernization seemed to be in the offing.59 Taussig compared this radical rethinking of colonial policy to that which followed Emancipation.60 He then noted that trade unionism was being actively encouraged for the first time. Many of the social and economic problems in the West Indies, he concluded, “have as their basis the still undigested transition from slave to free man.”61 The report urged the United States to avoid unnecessary friction and disturbance. In so doing, Taussig proved instrumental in convincing the U.S. president to pursue a policy of racial accommodation in the base colonies. On March 19, 1941, two months later, Franklin Roosevelt instructed that all officers on duty in the base colonies conform to local practice and usage in matters of race. Wanting clarity, the president declared that the directive applied “to every kind of function which has an official aspect, official meetings, official social receptions, official banquets, etc.”62 In consequence, the secretary of the navy, Frank Knox, directed all commanding officers in the base colonies to appreciate “the importance to the United States of assuring that situations sometimes referred to by Americans as the ‘color line’ be handled with tact and discretion.”63 A similarly worded memorandum

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was issued by the War Department: “Our Army is moving into old communities which have developed definite customs and social usages” that required “special tact and discretion.” Official relations will conform to “local practice and usage.”64 There would be no “whites only” or “coloreds only” signage on the leased bases. The archival record indicates that the U.S. Army and Navy largely followed the directive in its public interaction with colonial officials and society. When this was not the case, the United States faced intense public criticism. Two wartime controversies spring to mind. In 1943, Colonel George F. Campbell, the new commander of the army base in British Guiana, told officers who they could and could not socialize with while on pass or leave in Georgetown. The memorandum claimed that there were four racial categories in the colony—British White, Portuguese, Mixed Portuguese, and Mixed Colored. As there was a strong color line observed in British Guiana, Campbell ordered that officers under his command should date within the first group and only to “a very limited extent” in the second. Officers were directed not to associate with the final category of people. The reasons for the posting were hinted at near the end of the directive when the Colonel complained that some U.S. soldiers had recently been seen in Georgetown with “eminently undesirable companions.” This practice must be “discontinued at once,” he commanded.65 The offending directive, posted on base bulletin boards where anyone could take them, was copied and widely circulated in town in protest. The matter found its way into local newspapers, causing resentment. Several social clubs, for example, reportedly boycotted U.S. officers and enlisted men for a time. To calm the situation, Campbell met with the editors of the daily and weekly newspapers in Georgetown to reassure them that social discrimination was not U.S. policy in the region and “that no color line was observed.”66 He told them that he was “profoundly distressed” by the “misinterpretation” of his intentions as he only sought to “tighten up the discipline” of the men in his command. U.S. Army policy in British Guiana was not to draw distinctions of race, creed, or color. He sought to defuse the situation by repeatedly invoking the policy. In a private meeting with the Governor, he was advised that it would have been best had the order been given verbally rather than in writing. This morsel of advice reminds us that the racial attitudes of British officials and American officers were often more alike than they appeared. Another “small storm” of controversy struck Jamaica in December 1943 when the U.S. Army advertised for “white help” in the Daily Gleaner. Considerable public indignation was aroused by the job ad. Fearing the introduction of formal Jim Crow racism, the Kingston City Council passed a combative motion condemning the U.S. authorities.67 As in British Guiana, the situation was defused by Colonel John V. Dallin, the base commander, who disavowed the policy of employment discrimination and apologized for the incident. The United States did not sanction distinctions of race or color, he said. The incident was subsequently cited in diplomatic dispatches as illustrative of the population’s “constant watchfulness for any signs of colour

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prejudice exhibited by United States Forces in Jamaica.”68 American officials clearly feared social unrest. The dearth of other cases of officially sanctioned and explicit Jim Crow racism tells us that the president’s directive had mitigated the kinds of damage caused elsewhere. Within months, British officials in the Colonial Office were expressing their surprise that “colour feeling” in the region had not increased more. It looked as though U.S. servicemen were “falling into line fairly harmoniously,” concluded one such assessment. The visitors were not insisting on “the more rigid standards of the United States.”69 Much the same point was made by colonial officials based in the region. “Contrary to what might have been expected,” J. Huggins reported from Trinidad, an “increase of colour feeling has not manifested itself here noticeably since the establishment of the United States Bases.”70 U.S. officials shared this sentiment. William Hastie, a member of President Roosevelt’s Caribbean Advisory Board, observed that “the native population, with a preconceived notion that the coming of the Americans would mean the worst type of treatment received by the Negroes in the United States, have found that the bad features of their relationships with the newcomers are essentially a continuation of and confirmation with patterns already established locally.”71 Charles Taussig told the U.S. President much the same thing. If the United States won grudging respect in some quarters for the moderation of its official policy on race, it lost much in the everyday actions of some of its officers, enlisted men and civilian workers. “Abusive conduct toward natives by individual Americans” proved to be a problem throughout the war.72 In Jamaica, the race issue threatened to explode over the summer of 1942, caused by a combination of layoffs at the U.S. Army base, persistent unemployment, food scarcity, and racial discrimination. A string of incidents involving white servicemen and black Jamaicans threatened to escalate. It was therefore found necessary for the United States to cancel leaves. This was followed in late 1942 by a “wave of disorder” and petty crime directed against white servicemen.73 Yet Americans complained that Jamaicans were unjustifiably “sensitive” to any “racial slight.”74 A great deal of resentment followed a string of violent incidents that saw American soldiers’ assault, rape, and murder civilians. Chapter 7 discusses many of these incidents in the context of criminal jurisdiction. What is clear from the evidence is that the violent behavior of some U.S. Army and Navy personnel caused the most friction in St. Lucia, Antigua, and Trinidad. A combination of poor discipline and morale, poor leadership, and racism was largely responsible. Black local constables and militia members, under strict orders not to interfere with U.S. servicemen and white construction workers, frequently bore the brunt of this violence.75 Black members of the colonial elite also found themselves being targeted: the homes of “respectable” Creole officials were repeatedly invaded by drunken white soldiers and sailors.76 Segregation took hold in some adjoining areas such as in the garrison town of Vieux Fort, Antigua. Yet, as Neptune found in Trinidad, the reverse also held true. One horrified American observer reported that “white men go

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into the negro dives, drink, carouse, fight and all the rest that goes with it.” The “things going on there,” he gasped, “are a discredit to any white man.”77 Civilian construction workers brought in from the United States were blamed for much of the violence.78 According to one U.S. diplomatic report: “The color question was the basis of the difficulty, made no less easy by the free use of alcoholic beverages; the small size of the communities; and the lack of any diversion. There have been, it is understood, several instances of an unpleasant nature over the color question.”79 The U.S. struggled everywhere to enforce discipline in race matters. The epicenter of racial conflict was undoubtedly the main gates of the bases where U.S. soldiers and marines checked the documents and badges of “native labourers” entering and leaving the leased areas. Many of the shootings occurred at these crossings. The shooting deaths of several Antiguans in 1942, for example, caused outrage. The Antiguan Magnet printed an article that condemned trigger happy sentries who cared little about the death of a “jig”—“as a native is called by the Yankees.”80 William Christensen, the U.S. vice consul, reported that “radical newspapers all over the area” were attacking the United States in the aftermath of these shooting incidents.81 The newspapers, he complained, never lost a chance to print articles with a “race angle” to the story.82 It was only with the shooting death of a white American civilian by a soldier that the U.S. authorities finally intervened. General Frank Andrews, Commander of Caribbean Command, and a team of senior officers arrived in Antigua to investigate. Identifying the issue as a “morale problem,” they took the following steps to improve discipline and foster better relations: soldiers would henceforth be denied access to (American) workers’ barracks; soldiers would no longer be armed while off-duty; only the “best men” would be chosen for guard duty; eighty infantry men deemed to be “malcontents” were transferred off of the island; servicemen would be given regular drill; and a new commanding officer would be transferred in. The new commander had a reputation for being a strict disciplinarian.83 Once again, we see how the race issue was recast as a matter of discipline by the U.S. Army and Navy. When the daily indignities and occasional shootings at the main gates to the bases threatened U.S. standing in the region, the navy moved quickly to replace its white marine sentries with locally recruited and nonwhite security guards.84 In British Guiana, the navy employed retired members of the colonial police to act as watchmen. They were reported to be mature, disciplined, and carried considerable prestige with “native” workmen. The decision to rotate white army units out of the region and replace them with Puerto Ricans in 1943 (who were considered white by the U.S. Army, a point the British contested) can also be understood as part of this overall strategy of racial accommodation. The same held true for the decision to cut short the tour of duty of the only African American unit deployed in the British Caribbean. U.S. secretary of state Cordell Hull observed that in adopting a policy of racial accommodation, the United States was obliged to concede to blacks in

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the British Caribbean “rights which up to now the Negroes of his state, Tennessee, have not gained.”85 This revealing comment, however, should not obscure the fact that it would take far more than a presidential memorandum to compel U.S. officers “steeped in the racially offensive tradition of the Old South” to treat West Indians with respect.86 Time and again, the racial attitudes of U.S. officers and servicemen caused friction or even death. That these incidents were frequently dismissed as isolated individual acts, the proverbial bad apples, was a testament to the effectiveness of the President’s intervention in limiting the political damage. The still segregated U.S. armed services maintained the racial status quo in more subtle ways. While on liberty, U.S. servicemen were subject to “out of bounds” regulations that were drawn up to maintain the color line. Each service maintained a list of establishments that were off-limits to its personnel. The army and navy maintained a second list for its African American personnel, thereby accomplishing what the signage accomplished back home. The decision not to deploy African American units in the region (with one notable exception) and to never employ African American civilians from the U.S. mainland in base construction made it easier to maintain this fiction. Americans living on base slept in their own barracks, ate in their own canteens, shopped at their own stores, and were paid substantially higher wages. Even base cinemas had separate film showings for “American” and “native” men and women. Race mixing outside the leased areas was assiduously policed by military policemen and shore patrols. In effect, the national line drawn between American workers and servicemen on the one hand and local workers on the other accomplished what Jim Crow signage did elsewhere. If British appraisals of the impact of the bases by colonial governors are any indication, it would appear that opposition to the U.S. bases was strongest among the Creole middle class and among colonial officials themselves.87 By and large, the laboring classes welcomed the employment that the bases offered. In their comments on incoming reports, preserved in the minute books of the Colonial Office, British officials noted their similarity. The appraisal of the impact of the U.S. bases on Antigua, for example, drew this comment: The reaction to the US Base in Antigua has I think followed the course usual in the other Base Colonies except perhaps Trinidad. There was as a rule a general welcome to the proposal largely because of the economic benefits which were expected then disquiet at the extent of the powers given to the US. The first reaction to the actual impact of the Base on popular feeling was general dismay at the manners and customs of the US contractors who by and large were a pretty poor standard. When they began to depart and the military to take over however there was gradually introduced a much better type of man and the US Service people have gone some way towards counteracting the hearty dislike which the contractors aroused.

That the antipathy toward the U.S. bases was strongest in official circles was not lost on the visitors. In several instances, U.S. diplomats claimed that

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white colonial officials went “out of their way to maintain informal and cordial relationships with colored people in order to accentuate American racial prejudice. This has as its root the resentment on the part of the British toward what they regard as the heckling of Americans on the subject of British imperialism.”88 British officials, both in the base colonies and in the Colonial Office itself, relied heavily on the specter of U.S. Jim Crow racism for their own sense of imperial mission in the region. The “dollars or dignity” equation, with which I opened this chapter, was thus highly valued in official circles. It furnished colonial officials some moral high ground, or so they thought. The use of offensive language was a case in point. Governor Clifford of Trinidad, in his end of war assessment of the impact of the bases, indicated that the “use of certain terms in common usage in the United States when referring to coloured person is offensive to West Indians who are unaccustomed to the racial distinction which exists in, for instance, the Southern States.”89 In another context, the same Governor wrote of his dislike for the “general tenor” of U.S. Armed Forces radio programming on the island that suggested that the United States had taken the lead in caring for the interests of the region. To show that this was definitely not the case, he claimed that the usage of the word “negro” over the air was not appreciated by most Trinidadians.90 The familiar narrative of American racism and British benevolence was nonetheless cast in doubt in a handful of end-of-war assessments. In comparing the racial views of the British and the Americans, for example, the Assistant Administrator of St. Lucia, F.E. Degazon, held that the U.S. bases actually “tempered racial feeling” on the island. Continuing, he reported that An opinion widely held in this Colony is that while the American is more obvious in his manifestations of colour prejudice, and while he may, as a rule, be more objectionable in the rigorous application of the racial standards to which he pays allegiance, nevertheless, the British, while holding as tenaciously to their racial prejudices, are more subtle in the methods which they employ in order to assert and to maintain white supremacy.91

In regard to race relations, Degazon observed that U.S. enlisted personnel have mixed freely and amicably with large sections of the Creole population. U.S. officers and enlisted men deployed in the colony “in many instances, left their prejudices at home.” These observations support historian Harvey Neptune’s own findings in wartime Trinidad. Why then did the United States adopt a policy of race and labor accommodation in the base colonies? Five factors present themselves. First, the “competitive cooperation” that characterized Anglo-American relations at the time made it imperative that the U.S. show its best face in matters of race and labor.92 If the base colonies acted as a “shop window” for British imperialism, the bases did likewise for American democracy. Second, the United States was wary of provoking another round of civil unrest in the

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region. The British Caribbean had been wracked by strikes and protests during the 1930s and was viewed as a dry tinderbox that could burst into flame at any moment. Should this happen, the United States would be in the thick of it as its troops would be called upon to quell resistance and restore order. This fear was evident in President Roosevelt’s decision to send Charles Taussig on a mission to the Caribbean base colonies to ascertain the likelihood for unrest and subversion. The subsequent creation of the Anglo-American Caribbean Commission, to assist in economic and social development, was likewise justified on the grounds that it would stabilize the volatile region. A third factor that no doubt influenced U.S. policy in the region was the fact that the United States could not compel local labor to work for them. They therefore had to rely on the “carrot” of higher wages and good public relations. Fourth, U.S. actions in the region were being closely monitored by African Americans back home. Recent scholarship on the role of race in U.S. foreign policy and diplomacy has revealed the growing political influence of this important constituency within the Democratic Party.93 The president had one final reason to accommodate on the race issue—as secretary of the navy, he had overseen the bloody U.S. occupation of Haiti. He could not help but be cognizant of the popular animosity that U.S. racism occasioned in that country. If the negative political consequences of U.S. racism were mitigated to some extent by President Roosevelt’s decision to direct U.S. personnel to respect local practice and custom, the same policy proved highly contentious when applied to prevailing wage rates. Labor and Base Construction Although all supervisory personnel and the majority of the skilled trades were brought to the base construction sites from the U.S. mainland, local men and women would do the heavy lifting. In a region as poor as the British Caribbean, the army and navy bases promised employment and higher wages. At the peak of base construction in October 1942, 41,000 “native labourers” were employed building the Caribbean bases.94 The scale of the base construction sites varied considerably. The smallest were the naval air stations located at Gros Islet Bay on the northwest tip of St. Lucia, on Crabbs Peninsula and the adjoining waters of Parham Sound in Antigua, on Little Goat Island off Jamaica’s south shore, on the Essequibo River in British Guiana, and on the southeastern tip of Great Exuma Island in the Bahamas. These seaplane bases were almost identical in layout, type and number of prefabricated buildings and waterfront structures.95 None provided large-scale employment. At Great Exuma, “pieces of rock and stone were picked up from around the island by local labor at a set price per yard, and broken into usable size by women laborers using small hammers. Later, as the program was expanded, portable crushers were imported to supplement this primitive labor method.” 96 The army air bases (and the naval base in Trinidad) were the largest defense projects in the region and so required considerable local labor. Fully 5,000 people were employed in base

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construction at its peak in St. Lucia (or 7 percent of the island’s population) and 23,000 in Trinidad.97 The wages that these base workers would be paid was a matter of great contention. In the previous chapter, we learned that the Newfoundland authorities sought to hold down wages in order to minimize the economic disruption to other parts of the economy. The same pattern was evident in the British Caribbean. Most of the officials that Charles Taussig met during his fact-finding tour of the base colonies in late 1940 urged him to recommend the “prevailing” wage standard and suggested that it be treated as a wage ceiling rather than as a floor.98 In Caliban and the Yankees, historian Harvey Neptune shows how the colonial state in Trinidad sought to protect the economic interests of agricultural employers by holding down wages.99 When the U.S. authorities informed Trinidad’s industrial advisor that they would like to raise wage rates slightly in 1941, they were told to wait as an increase might embarrass the government. The colonial government’s view was neatly encapsulated in a dispatch written by the governor: “I regard it as of the greatest importance that the Government should continue to set the standard and thus preclude the possibility of United States authorities driving up Government rates and with them rates in for example oil industry.”100 The role of colonial governments in setting wage rates must rank as one of the worst kept secrets of the war. Everyone seemed to know. Sensing their central role, trade unionists throughout the region blamed lower than expected wage rates on local governments beholden to planters for the low wages. In Trinidad, for example, the Trades Union Council (TUC) adopted a resolution in February 1941 that expressed its alarm at the government’s efforts to “induce” the United States to “tie down the wages” to the “low starvation wages” that prevailed before the war. The TUC declared that the wage rates established on the bases were “influenced by the Local Government and Industrialists in a desire on their part to avoid raising the standard of living of the workers they employ. This flagrant attempt to perpetuate the exploitation of the labour of Colonial workers in the interest of financecapital is inconsistent with the declaration that this war is being fought for Democracy and for a new world order based on social justice.”101 In May– June 1941, the New Dawn observed that many people thought that jobs and higher wages were in the offing, but “the people have seen the Government and planters making every effort to thwart their efforts to get more food to eat and more clothes to wear.”102 The wage issue even sparked political debate in Great Britain. When questioned in the House of Commons about the wage issue, the British government attempted to shift the responsibility for the prevailing wage policy onto the United States. Labour Party members expressed their skepticism and urged the government to use its influence on the United States to have wage rates increased.103 Arthur Creech-Jones, an influential Labour MP, pointed out that local wage rates were much too low. He called the prevailing wage policy unreasonable, adding that he thought that the government had a more active role in the setting of wage rates than it was

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letting on. Like many others, he believed that the wage rates were being set by colonial governments “with an eye on all local vested interests.”104 Continuing, “So long as poor wages can be regarded as right because of the unhappy economic conditions of other industries,” he protested, “so long will the general standard of wages be low.”105 This racial division of labor, and accompanying differential wage scales, served to reinforce the myth of the “lazy native” that has been a standard feature of colonialism.106 To justify the lower wage rates paid to local labor, colonial officials and the visiting forces regularly cast West Indian laborers as “unskilled, indolent and unreliable.”107 In Antigua, it was said that “native labour” would not show up for work after the first payday: “They were said to be taking a holiday until their money is gone.”108 These racial stereotypes did not go uncontested. In October 1941, for example, the New Dawn called accusations that Trinidad workers were lazy and lethargic “stupid” and “well in the tradition of cheap jokes on the Negroes of the Southern United States.”109 That the questions of race and labor were intimately connected was obvious to Walter White, Secretary of the NAACP, who wrote Charles Taussig in June 1942 to protest the differential wage rates that were “based on color and place of birth.”110 The efforts of colonial governments to hold down wages on the U.S. bases fostered trade unionism in the region. This was true even in those parts of the British Caribbean that remained relatively quiet during the turbulent 1930s.111 At the root of much of the labor unrest in Antigua were the “glaring differences” in wage rates between U.S. base construction sites there and in neighboring St. Thomas. Several hundred Antiguans, in fact, made their way illegally to St. Thomas to work for higher wages. Like elsewhere, the local authorities were blamed for this state of affairs. When the United States initially asked to set wage rates, the government had urged them to pay piece rates, noting that “good labor” worked piece rates in the colony and that day rates were in consequence low. The United States stated that it could not operate on this basis and tied its wage schedule to the lower daily rates. This unilateral decision put the local government in the awkward position of demanding higher wage rates: “The crux of the matter, therefore, was the difference in system; on the one side between the local Antigua practice of paying good labour at piece rates . . . while day rates were much lower and normally paid only to labour the quality and output of which were difficult to estimate; and on the other side the differing system in practice with the American authorities of paying day rates only.”112 Dissatisfaction with the wage rates announced in 1941 created tension across the British Caribbean. In British Guiana, a mass meeting held in Georgetown on January 17, 1941 by the British Guiana Labour Union (BGLU), a Creole-dominated union representing waterfront workers led by Hubert N. Critchlow, resolved that the United States should pay Guyanese base labor on an “equitable basis.”113 For its part, the Manpower Citizens’ Association (MPCA), which represented East Indian laborers on the sugar estates, appealed directly to

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the U.S. president, writing that workers in the colony viewed the bases as their “economic salvation.” These aspirations were being dispelled, however, by the actions of colonial officials in holding down wages and it appeared that “even the USA” had “acquiesced to a system of exploitation of the workers of these parts.”114 Guyanese workers almost always directed their appeals to the United States. Trade unionists in the colony thus gathered on July 4, 1941, “in honour of the one hundred and sixty-fifth anniversary of Independence Day of the United States of America,” and passed yet another resolution demanding higher wages on the bases.115 These trade union resolutions exhibited more faith (at least rhetorically) in President Roosevelt, the New Deal, and in American trade unionism than in their own colonial government. Sometimes, however, U.S. actions caused trade unionists to redirect their anger at the visiting forces. The U.S. decision not to acknowledge the collective bargaining rights of trade unions at the bases was one such time. Army and navy officials would not confer directly with trade unions and only reluctantly agreed to the mediation of colonial governments. The efforts of Jamaican unions to convince the United States to collectively bargain were therefore rebuffed. Governor Richards reported that his “Government was informed that recognition of the Union was against the policy of the

Figure 4.1

Map of Chaguaramas Naval Base.

Source: Folder 2. Box 17. Field Liason and Records Section, Base Maintenance Division, 1930–65. Naval Historical Center.

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United States Government.”116 In a pattern that was repeated elsewhere, union leaders at the naval station at Little Goat Island were dismissed from their jobs in July 1941. The uncompromising stance of the United States on the issue of union recognition was undoubtedly made easier by intelligence estimates that indicated that trade unionism in the region was infused by radical politics and the race issue. The efforts of the Trinidad-based Federated Workers Trade Union to organize the Creole truck drivers employed at the Chaguaramas naval base were thus seen by the United States through a racial lens. One intelligence report, dated June 1942, for example, defined Quintin O’Connor, the General Secretary of the union, and the moving spirit of its organizing drive, as a racially motivated agitator rather than as a legitimate labor leader: agitation of a mulatto named Quintin O’Connor, who is trying to organize base workers into his Federation of West Indian Laborers. He has at present no more than a hundred real members, but he is noisy and unscrupulous, and is dangerous because of his nuisance value. Generally speaking, the 21,500 base laborers are well satisfied with their wages and working conditions. However, the Trinidad natives, especially the Negroes are of an unruly nature, and have in the past shown an inclination to join in any kind of violence that may arise regardless of its origin. There is a considerable element which apparently will riot at the drop of a hat, and consequently the island police consider it extremely important to clear up any kind of labor trouble without delay, lest it spread to other sections of the population.117

O’Connor, for his part, claimed that workers were regularly beaten with truncheons and, if they resisted, they had revolvers pushed into their bellies. He told another public meeting that: “Today in this Island of ours we have been invaded by believers in brute force and primitive justice. Our workers on the bases are being ill-treated by the Americans, their heads are being broken without just cause.” Continuing, “Negro haters are employed at the Bases, men who believe negros are dogs to be brutally kicked, men who get drunk and then want to beat up negroes. We cannot have an ally fighting a War for freedom and committing acts worse than slave owners.” Their actions are worthy of “Hitler and the Japanese.”118 The British, he said, treated Trinidadians better. Another U.S. naval intelligence report filed in April 1942, authored by Lieutenant Curtis Dawes, suggested that true political parties did not exist in Trinidad. In their place were the personal followings of charismatic politicians whose tone was leftist and who emphasized the color issue.119 Dawes identified three political groupings in Trinidad and categorized them by the radicalism of their politics and the race of their leadership. The Labour Party, or Trinidad Working Men’s Association, with strength among the dock workers of Port of Spain, and led by Captain Cipriani, was dismissed as “quiescent” for the time being. Not so the Socialist Party of A.C. Rienzi, an “East Indian politician” allied with Trinidad’s oil and sugar workers. The

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party’s platform called for universal suffrage and a socialist government. Its newspaper, the Vanguard, raised the color issue to unite Creoles and East Indians against the whites. The third party identified by Dawes, the People’s Party, allied with the Federated Workers Union, was judged to be the most left-wing party on the island. Its newspaper, the New Dawn, was “communistic in tone” and its leadership racially motivated. Each party leader was consistently categorized by race. All of these men were deemed “active agitators and can be counted on to stir up trouble among the laborers at the bases and everywhere on any provocation. They refer to each other as ‘comrade’ and are loud in support of Stalin. They are anti-American as well as anti-British.” Once cast as a group of political and racial agitators, the U.S. Navy felt free to deal firmly with the troublemakers.120 The discharge of four trade unionists from company employ as truck drivers sparked a bitter dispute at the navy base. The U.S. contractor pleaded ignorance, saying that it did not know they were union. Mr. A.G.V. Lindon, Trinidad’s industrial advisor, induced the company to take the men back. In doing so, he reported that the average “Trinidad native” was less pro-American than he had been before base construction began. For his part, Albert Gomes lamented these “anti-union tricks,” adding it was “doing US prestige in these parts no good.”121 Not limiting itself to the “stick” of union non-recognition, the United States proved willing to increase wage rates, provide meals onsite, and eventually assist in transportation. It took a brief strike in January 1941, for example, to effect the first increase in wages at the U.S. Navy’s base on Goat Island, Jamaica.122 The story was the same throughout the region. In consequence, the gap between the wages available on plantations and those available on the bases grew. By June 1942, agricultural laborers in Trinidad were paid 42 cents per day as opposed to base workers who received at least 92 cents per day.123 Table 4.2 shows that working for the Americans paid well. Efforts to organize base workers therefore met with little success. The few strikes among base workers were spontaneous and short-lived. In all, there were fifty-nine work stoppages in 1940, twenty-three in 1941, twelve in 1942, and seven in 1943.124 The war struck the region hard during 1942 when German submarines sank over 250 ships in Caribbean waters.125 The acute shipping shortage that Table 4.2 Comparative Wage Rates in Occupations Common to the Sugar Industry, Colonial Government, and the U.S. Bases, Trinidad, 1944 Occupation Blacksmith Carpenters Machinery Unskilled Labor

Sugar Industry

U.S. Bases

Colonial Government

133–220 93–250 165–180 72–96

170–256 184–264 184–232 96–144

144–256 104–216 104–216 92–96

Source: Oliver Stanley, Colonial Secretary, to T. Fraser, Member of Parliament. November 14, 1944. CO 971/2/4. PRO.

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followed America’s entry into the war and the extension of submarine warfare into the Caribbean Sea, brought great hardship to islanders. The cost of living skyrocketed and basic foodstuffs were in short supply.126 The shortage of food resulted in long queues of people “struggling for a chance to get a little flour or rice at provision shops.”127 People reportedly spent hours each day standing on the streets in these lines. A shortage of flour in Port of Spain in June 1942 forced several bakeries to temporarily suspend production.128 Yet malnutrition was most evident among the island’s East Indian population and in Antigua and St. Lucia.129 The U.S. Army made an emergency loan of flour to the inhabitants of Antigua: “there is little doubt that considerable part of the population is now going without food for several days in the week. A large number of laborers including base workers have recently left their jobs during the day complaining that they were unable to continue work because of lack of food.”130 For their part, British colonial administrators sought to handle the situation by controlling trade, freezing prices, rationing, and encouraging food production. Jamaica required every owner of 100 acres or more to dedicate 1 percent of the land to food production and Trinidad required that a small portion of sugar land be planted with short-term crops such as beans and peas.131 In much the same way as in Newfoundland, the rising cost of living and higher wages available on the bases resulted in labor unrest in other economic sectors. In many cases, the “labourer left his job on the estate, the small land owner abandoned his land.”132 Full employment and higher wages resulted in an acute shortage of clerical workers, artisans and domestic servants.133 The Governor of Trinidad agreed, suggesting in February 1943 that the island’s sugar industry should be regarded “in much the same way as we would regard a torpedoed ship.”134 Sugar production fell in Trinidad from 131,671 tons in 1941 to 104,429 tons in 1942 to just 71,000 tons in 1943.135 In 1942, 3,886 acres of cane were left unreaped and an estimated 207,000 tons of estate cane was left in the following year.136 In British Guiana where 70 percent of the colony’s sugar estates were owned by one combination, over 20,000 working days were lost in 1942 to strikes on thirty-eight sugar estates. The Agricultural Society and the Chamber of Commerce urged the Trinidad government to change its immigration policy, to encourage rather than restrict migrant labor from other parts of the West Indies.137 The British shareholders of Trinidad Sugar Estates, for example, heard at the company’s annual general meeting held in London in March 1943 that 420 acres of cane was left uncut as there was not the labor available.138 The company’s planting program also had to be curtailed. The acreage planted also fell off dramatically: estates that normally planted 9,000 acres per year planted only 5,889 acres in 1942 and 2,500 in 1943.139 The news was just as discouraging in 1943. The crop of 90,000 tons that year was 7,000 less than forecasted. Shareholders heard that the labor shortage “menaces the sugar enterprise,” having resulted in the shutting down of the Waterloo and Esperanza factories for lack of cane.140 The Brechin Castle factory took up some of the slack but

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it was doubted that it would have enough cane to operate twenty-four hours a day. The chair of the Sugar Manufacturers’ Association called the outlook “dreary.”141 What to do about the sugar industry generated heated debate in Trinidad’s Legislative Council. A special committee could not come to agreement as views diverged dramatically. James Forbes, speaking on behalf of the sugar interests, noted that “our economic life is linked up with agriculture” and that open immigration was needed. By contrast, A.C. Rienzi told the Legislative Council in January 1942 that there was in reality no shortage of labor: “For over a century, Mr. President, our sugar barons have thrived on the exploitation of human flesh, first of all in the form of slavery and secondly in the form of indentured immigration. It seems to me that our sugar barons cannot readjust themselves to the times. The world is going forward.”142 He called for land redistribution. For his part, Sir Lennox O’Reilly, a prominent Creole man, took up the mantle of the middle class taxpayer: “What happened to all the chauffeurs in the Colony? How many owners to-day have resumed their almost long-forgotten art of driving their own cars? What has happened to the domestic servants? It is perfectly true that they are not agricultural labourers, but it is symptomatic.” These three views neatly summarized the division of opinion in the Legislative Council. In Caribbean politics, class lines often cut across those of race. Ignoring labor protests, the state sponsored the importation of 2,000 Barbadian laborers in March 1942 to work at the U.S. Army base under contract for $1.19 per day, 25 percent more than what local labor was paid.143 American officials expressed their strong preference for Barbadian labor over Trinidadians, especially Creoles, due to their “industriousness” and their “respectful attitude toward their employers.”144 The U.S. Army, it seemed, wanted deferential employees. Not surprisingly, violence erupted between Barbadians and Trinidadians a month later when the discharge of 200 Trinidadians immediately preceded the arrival of a similar number of Barbadians. A quarrel outside a cinema escalated into a major “disturbance,” causing the U.S. consul to call the layoff of local labor “unfortunate timing.”145 The end of the base building boom had far-reaching consequences. The first major layoff of Trinidad labor in July 1942 garnered front-page news. Lieutenant Colonel Gustov Ring, the new District Engineer, was quoted at the time as saying that this layoff marked the beginning of the gradual reduction in workforce.146 Gone were the old concerns over the shortage of labor. The specter of unemployment and possible unrest had returned for the first time in two years. Lt. Colonel Ring directed the two primary contractors in Trinidad to ensure that “great care should be taken that lay-offs should be made with no undue labor disturbances.”147 He recommended that men be laid-off in small groups in scattered locations, paid in full, and their badges picked up immediately. Terminations would average 500 per week from July 1942 until the end of the job. Here, the intention was obviously to avoid the formation of large numbers of terminated workers in any given place. He also suggested the early repatriation of the Barbadians.148

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Layoffs at other bases in the region produced sporadic unrest. Terminated employees at the naval station in British Guiana protested when the commanding officer prohibited them from removing their belongings in kit boxes made from wood, but he relented.149 Social tensions were far worse in St. Lucia after the U.S. Army scaled back employment from 2000 to 200. Many of those laid-off were Barbadians brought in to build the base. Due to a lack of shipping, they could not be immediately repatriated which heightened tensions further. The U.S. vice consul, Charles H. Whitaker, reported that the Barbadians preferred to stay in St. Lucia in the hopes of future base employment. Unfortunately, he added, “this creates a sizeable pool of several hundred laborers who have no income and nothing to do.”150 Disturbing rumors circulated. One suggested that the village of Vieux Fort would be burned so that these men could be employed re-building it. In fact, the U.S. Marines were called out in January 1944 to restore order when looting broke out in Castries, St. Lucia, over foodstuffs.151 The social tensions were of sufficient concern that the British and American authorities made contingency plans in case local police were again overpowered. Whitaker concluded that the “outlook for the people here at present is hopeless. No outside political agitators have as yet made their appearance.”152 He warned that, should they come, they would find “fertile ground” in St. Lucia. The social and economic changes set in motion by the labor revolt of the 1930s and the friendly invasion that followed could not be easily contained. The bases weakened the economic and political hold of planters in several colonies. An enquiry into Trinidad’s wage rates in the sugar industry, completed by Professor J.H. Richardson in April 1944, concluded that “the sugar psychology has been dealt a severe blow by the building of the United States Bases in the Caribbean area. The diversion of labor from cane fields at low wages to Base building at comparatively high wages was not accomplished without considerable pain. However, the resettlement of these same workers back to the cane fields will only be done by a complete revision of wage scales and working conditions generally which as yet the sugar interests are not generally prepared to accede to.” Trade unions in the region struggled to maintain wartime gains. V.C. Bird, president of the Antigua Trades and Labour Union, wrote a letter to the Antigua Star in May 1944 where he noted that the “slackening” of work at the bases caused an employer assault on the union.153 By all accounts, released base workers “seemed disinclined or undecided to revert to former sources of employment.”154 Conclusion Writing in the Nation, W. Adolphe Roberts indicated that the Americans had been largely tactful in “handling the natives.” He noted that law and custom in the British West Indies had produced a “class system bearing little resemblance to the color line to which Americans are habituated.”155 While “minor” incidents served to “accentuate the fundamental racial conflict,” as the Anglo-American Caribbean Commission reported, they did not heighten

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tensions to the degree that many expected.156 President Roosevelt’s decision to pursue a policy of racial accommodation in the region, which stood in sharp contrast to that which prevailed in the Panama Canal Zone, proved effective in mitigating the political impact. Base workers did not generally feel that they were forced to choose between bread and dignity. Yet for West Indian nationalists and trade unionists, the bases symbolized everything that was wrong with colonization. As a result, the coming of the Americans contributed to the rise of a Caribbean labor movement. Indeed, the higher wages available at the U.S. bases during the war served to awaken in the West Indian laborer a new “consciousness of his worth.”157 That this consciousness was based on both race and class is evident in the Caribbean Labour Conference held in Barbados in September 1945.158 The meeting provided the first public forum for airing region-wide opinion about the leased U.S. bases. It was the first item on the agenda and thirteen delegates spoke on the subject. Several delegates expressed their fear that the bases would act as a barrier to political federation and self-government in the postwar era. Others thought that the bases were an affront to the prestige and self-respect of West Indians. Albert Gomes, a prominent Trinidad politician, for example, announced that he was resentful of the “extreme attitude” adopted by the United States. Still others lamented the bad behavior of U.S. troops and the accentuation of “racial feeling.” Delegates adopted a resolution that expressed their “abhorrence” with a diplomatic deal that was imposed “without consulting the views of the peoples concerned.”159 Delegates called for the end of the leased bases agreement upon the cessation of hostilities or it should be put to a vote “in accordance with the principle of the Atlantic Charter.”160 There was a decided preference to stay within the British orbit, rather than the American. This chapter thus finds that the war contributed to the sense of regional race and class consciousness in the British Caribbean. A somewhat different story played out in wartime Bermuda.

Chapter 5

Building Bases on a Jim Crow Island

T

he control of wartime labor reached its apex in tiny Bermuda. Given the white merchant elite’s proclivity to use the power of the state to advance its economic interests, it is not altogether surprising that it would find in the segregated Panama Canal Zone a ready model. It has already been established that tourists and year-round visitors were drawn to Bermuda’s beauty and charm. The island’s colorfully painted homes of coral block construction were nestled in green hills “with no distractions of a busy world.”1 Its many attractions included its quiet seclusion, old-worldliness, outdoor recreational facilities and the absence of motor vehicles. With private automobiles banned, the island’s narrow roads were filled with bicycles. Bermuda allowed wealthy North Americans to escape the noise and bustle of modern life. Even during the depression years, Bermuda attracted over 80,000 tourists per year.2 The year-round presence of rich Americans in Tucker’s Town and elsewhere contributed further to the livelihood of many Bermudians. The class of tourist attracted to Bermuda proved highly profitable for white merchants and landowners. Luxury goods such as woolens and china were imported from Great Britain duty free and sold to American tourists for a “very considerable rate of profit.”3 These lucrative trading conditions and the rising value of real estate allowed a privileged few to amass great wealth. One diplomatic observer, for example, reported in 1940 that “Real estate is held at almost fantastic figures, due to a limited area, an expanding population, and what has been an eager demand for desirable building sites. In comparison with other small British possessions in the Western Hemisphere, a high standard of living for all classes has been achieved.”4 In fact, average wages were estimated at five times those prevailing in the British Caribbean. The war brought the tourist trade to an abrupt halt in 1939. The coming of the Americans in 1940–41 then threatened to demolish Bermuda’s image as the “summer isles” for good. Like elsewhere, the base construction boom brought with it economic dislocation and a labor shortage. The coercive efforts of the white merchants to control the situation, modeled on those in effect in the Panama Canal Zone, went far beyond anything attempted in the other base colonies. The building of the bases nonetheless destabilized

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Bermuda’s social order. With the birth of trade unionism in 1941, marked by the creation of the Bermuda Workers’ Association (the forerunner to the Bermuda Industrial Union), the colony’s society and politics would be transformed. The Rise of Jim Crow Racism There were three racial categories in Bermuda statistics: “whites,” “colored,” and “Portuguese.”5 Whites found employment in white-collar jobs in retail, banking, public utilities, and government service. Supervisory jobs everywhere were filled by whites, and nonwhites were barred from the civil service.6 White Bermudians also owned the farm land. While white residents profited from the shift to tourism, the results were far less advantageous for nonwhites. Fully 60 percent of Bermudians, numbering 20,000, were descendants of former African and Amerindian slaves. Black men were employed as manual laborers on the docks, on public works and at H.M. Dockyard. Others joined black women as low waged domestic servants in the tourist trade. The Portuguese were brought to the colony from the Azores to work as low-waged farm labor. The strict segregation of races occasioned by the shift to tourism set it apart from other British colonies in the Western Hemisphere. The 1930 Hotel Keepers Act allowed hotel operators in Bermuda to deny service.7 This innocuous right, however, provided the legal foundation for Jim Crow racism. Nonwhites were excluded from tourist hotels, and segregation gradually extended to virtually all other aspects of life in Bermuda. Time and again, Bermuda officials justified race discrimination as an economic necessity. American tourists, they warned, would stop coming if these policies were repealed. Only the Bahamas, another getaway for wealthy white Americans, had likewise developed into a “Jim Crow” island. The depth of racism in the Bermuda government was revealed in a file on illegitimacy found in the Bermuda Archives. A December 21, 1940 minute from the colonial secretary, one of the highest-ranking officials in the land, expressed his admiration for the sterilization orders being passed against European Jews. He cited, approvingly, the case of the Hungarian government that only permitted the oldest boy and oldest girl in any Jewish family to marry or have children. “However,” he lamented, “I doubt whether many people in Bermuda would go as far as that with regard to the coloured population.” A written notation that followed nonetheless suggested that this matter “had better come up for further discussion” in the Executive Council of the colony.8 Ruled by and for a white oligarchy, Bermuda was one of the most reactionary colonies in the British Empire. There was no income tax. No inheritance tax. No luxury taxes of any kind. Property taxes were nominal at best. Without a system of direct taxation, the colonial revenues were largely derived from customs receipts. The great beneficiaries of Bermuda’s reliance on customs duties were landowners who paid nominal taxes and merchants

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who paid none. The great losers, by contrast, were working people who paid the price of higher living costs. As virtually everything had to be imported, and everything imported was taxed, foodstuffs were estimated to cost 50 to 70 percent more than on the east coast of the United States.9 For over a hundred years, the U.S. vice consul in Bermuda noted, the “attitude of the ruling class, composed exclusively of merchants and landowners who effectively control the legislature . . . may be summed up in such expressions as, ‘We may have to give the negro equal political rights, but we keep him so poor it makes no difference.’ ”10 In private correspondence to Charles Taussig, head of the Anglo-American Caribbean Commission, a U.S. naval officer working in the office of the commandant of the naval base, went so far as to call the political situation in Bermuda a “pretty good mixture of Ancient Feudalism and modern Fascism.”11 For him, the colony was in the palm of the hands of “Howard Trott and his forty thieves,” most of whom were members of the Royal Bermuda Yacht Club. The innate conservativism of Bermuda politics was further demonstrated in the treatment of labor matters. Following a wave of strikes and social unrest that swept the Caribbean in the mid-1930s, discussed in the previous chapter, the British Colonial Office embraced social reform. In 1940, a Royal Commission headed by Lord Moyne issued a final report so critical of Britain’s treatment of colonial peoples that it was kept secret until after the war.12 The reforms went ahead nonetheless. British trade unionists were appointed as labor officers in many colonies and new legislation enacted. The Colonial Development and Welfare Act of 1940 promised British territories extra funding for social and economic development.13 To be eligible, however, colonies had to agree to a series of labor and social reforms. Despite the tremendous pressure brought to bear, Bermuda refused to implement any of these social and labor reforms.14 There was no trade union act. No compensation for workplace injury. No minimum wages. No child labor laws. No pensions. No labor dispute conciliation. No reduction in the fifty-four-hour work week. The only labor legislation consisted of two nineteenth century acts: the Poor Law Act and the Masters and Servants Act, proclaimed after the abolition of slavery.15 Neither law had any practical effect. “For a hundred years,” concluded the American vice consul, “a small group has made Bermuda its own paradise by controlling legislation and by seeing that the taxation policy kept all but them selves in strict economic subjection while they themselves accumulated fortunes subject to no taxes whatsoever. The system impressed one American business man stationed here that he termed it ‘A modified form of slavery,’ which indeed it is.”16 Clearly, the social gains made in almost every other country had passed Bermuda by. The onset of war in 1939 resulted in the sudden collapse of Bermuda’s lucrative tourist industry. In 1940, less than 26,000 arrivals were documented and most of these visitors were military personnel or evacuees.17 In fact, fewer than one thousand foreign tourists per month ventured out into the mid-Atlantic.18 As a result, the great hotels stood empty, golf courses were

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virtually deserted and shops had a “forlorn appearance.” Mass unemployment followed. To combat the problem, Bermuda and the Corporation of Hamilton employed virtually all unemployed men on road construction, marsh reclamation and construction.19 This work was coordinated by the Bermuda Labour Board, set up in 1939 to supervise the work of the Bermuda Labour Service Corps, a sort of colonial Work Progress Administration (WPA).20 The economic situation improved somewhat in early 1940 with increased activity at H.M. Dockyard. The Bermuda economy also benefited from the relocation of 800 British civil servants to the island when the Imperial Censorship Office was moved into the Bermudiana Hotel. Yet high-end businesses that once catered to tourists continued to struggle. The destroyersfor-bases deal changed everything. Bermuda employers now faced an acute labor shortage and demands for higher wages. The Greenslade Agreement and the Panama Template As true elsewhere, the colonial authorities in Bermuda raised the labor issue first. During Rear Admiral John W. Greenslade’s second visit to Bermuda in October 1940, the matter of wage rates was raised by colonial officials and an understanding reached. The minutes of this meeting indicate that British vice admiral Kennedy-Purvis asked that the United States pay the going rate so as not to entice skilled metal workers from government employ.21 In response, General Jacob L. Devers, the senior member of the U.S. War Department on the Greenslade Board, and a former chief of staff of the Panama Canal Department of the Army, suggested that Bermuda adopt the Panama Canal Zone model. There, he said, the U.S. Army and Navy worked through a local labor board that certified each applicant for work and issued control cards. The United States, he offered, could adopt the Panama model and employ only Bermudians who were certified by a local board. “If a local man came directly to us,” Devers explained, “we would refer him to the labor commissioner for certification.” In what became known as the “Greenslade Agreement,” Bermuda seized onto General Devers’ suggestion and proposed that the Bermuda Labour Board issue control cards and determine prevailing wage rates for the U.S. bases. The Panama model appealed to Bermuda’s white merchant elite as they had long used state power to further their own economic ends. Though not stated in the meeting’s official record, the Panama Canal Zone also represented a racial order that would have appealed to the white Bermudian officials present at the meeting. Jim Crow in “the Zone” was camouflaged slightly by the use of the “Gold” and “Silver” euphemisms, a legacy of the French canal building period when laborers were paid in either gold or silver coinage. With the arrival of the United States in Panama, these old categories were used in lieu of explicitly racial categories. To preserve the color line between white Americans on the Gold Roll and West Indian blacks on the Silver Roll, the U.S. authorities discouraged the employment of African Americans and Puerto Ricans. They feared that their introduction

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would muddy the racial waters. The result was a zone where race segregation extended to every aspect of life. In the Panama Canal Zone, there were suburban “Gold” town sites for U.S. nationals and overcrowded “Silver” ones for the West Indian laborers brought to the Zone to work the canal. Panamanians were removed from the area upon the creation of the Zone and all but excluded from it thereafter. Even the baseball stadiums were segregated with the grand stand reserved for servicemen and Gold Roll workers.22 Like Panama, the arrival of the United States in Bermuda triggered vast economic changes. According to one account, the replacement of tourists by construction workers, soldiers and sailors necessitated some painful adjustments in the social and economic life of the Colony.23 However, Bermudian opposition toward the U.S. bases was mitigated by wartime employment and prosperity. At the peak, there were 1,400 Bermudians employed at the base construction sites. This number, though a sizeable portion of the male work force in the colony, paled in comparison to the tens of thousands employed at the bases being built in Trinidad and Newfoundland.24 One source estimated that only 14.4 percent of civilian workers employed at the U.S. Army base and 23 percent of those at the Navy base were Bermudians. The Bermuda bases, unlike those in the other base colonies, were built primarily by American construction workers.25 By agreement, all of the American civilians brought in to build the bases were white. In part, this was a result of Bermuda’s effort to limit the growth of the colony’s majority black population.26 Equally important, as the chapter will show, the importation of African Americans would have made it more difficult for the Bermuda government to sell the massive American-Bermuda wage differential to the population. Black Bermudians were already accustomed to wealthy white Americans in their midst, but relatively well-off African Americans were another matter. Although the paper trail is partial, there is ample evidence to conclude that an understanding existed between the two governments on this issue. The commanding general of the U.S. Army’s Fort Bell, for example, was told in June 1943 that the government “would object strongly to the importation of non-white labor and would be obliged to withhold the issuance of landing permits to any non-white Base worker.” When an African American accepted a civil service position as a fire man at the U.S. Army base, he threatened to take the matter up “with the highest authority” if refused.27 The U.S. Army brought the matter up, informally, with the British defence security officer who immediately informed the governor. Bermuda’s Executive Council, meeting in emergency session, once again resolved that: “it had always been the policy of the Bermuda Government to discourage the importation of non-white labor into these Islands because of the economic situation and the predominantly negro population comprising 63 per cent of the total.”28 In an often-repeated justification of Jim Crow in Bermuda, Lt. Colonel Bates Raney of U.S. Army Intelligence reported that the Bermuda government’s attitude was not based on any racial discrimination, but upon economic and political considerations: “The Bermudian Government states that local Bermudian Negroes object,

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for economic reasons, to the importation of American Negroes and that the economic status of the local Negro population must be protected.”29 The presence of small numbers of African American naval personnel on shore leave in Bermuda sometimes complicated matters. The officer’s steward of a U.S. naval vessel, for example, was refused a ticket to a show at the Fort Bell theatre in August 1943. His commanding officer, Griffith C. Evans, Jr., protested the action: “It is quite significant, I believe, to mention that the only member of the ship’s company who has not come to me regarding the matter is the Steward concerned.” Continuing, he wrote that “many of us are fighting in this present war in a large measure to express our indignation over such racial discrimination.”30 Brigadier General A.G. Strong, commanding officer of Bermuda Base Command, regretted the occurrence, saying that the act of race discrimination was indicative of “very poor judgment. The policy of this command is that under no consideration will there be any racial discrimination as among U.S. service men.”31 He ordered that the base cinema conform strictly to the foregoing policy. The adoption of this policy was made infinitely easier by the earlier decision not to deploy African American units in Bermuda. Race segregation outside the leased bases was policed through the designation of integrated or “colored” establishments as “off limits” to U.S. servicemen. The U.S. Army and Navy operated separate lists of prohibited establishments, despite efforts to create a standardized list. The U.S. Army felt that a unified list was “impractical” due to the “color” issue.32 A March 1945 report, for example, indicated that the “Victoria Lodge” was the only hotel or bar operated by “colored personnel” that was “frequented by both colored and white persons that is not ‘out of bounds’ to white U.S. Navy enlisted personnel.” The report’s author, the senior patrol officer, wanted to add this establishment to the “Out of Bounds” list after finding white U.S. Navy personnel “lounging” with “colored girl patrons.”33 For their part, U.S. Army personnel wanting to get married had to get the approval of their commanding officer who, we are told, were instructed to refuse any case involving miscegenation.34 Venereal disease control was likewise viewed through the prism of race. Just as malarial control justified the removal and exclusion of West Indian “natives” from the vicinity of the Caribbean bases, venereal disease control did the same in wartime Bermuda. The problem of venereal disease in Bermuda was, as were many problems, viewed by U.S. Army officers as racially based. According to Colonel Paul A. Kenney, the base surgeon, the “venereal disease control program on this Island is in the larger part a problem of keeping soldiers from consorting with the younger Portuguese and colored girls.”35 The Canadian troops stationed in Bermuda went so far as to prohibit “all contact with the colored race” in the name of venereal disease control.36 While Captain Harry Baker of the U.S. Medical Corps agreed that the “prohibition against contact with the colored races are of great value in controlling venereal diseases,” he still expected the problem to be severe. The racial dimension to the venereal disease problem also

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meant that African American soldiers were labeled promiscuous. A spike in the number of cases of venereal disease in early 1943, hence, was blamed on a “contingent of troops, many of whom are colored, attached temporarily to this base force.”37 The regular reports of rates of venereal disease throughout the various army commands therefore explicitly identified the number of cases involving African American soldiers. This was standard practice. Despite this racism, the base construction boom brought great prosperity to the island. Wages increased in the face of an acute shortage of labor. In 1943, it was reported that daily wage rates for unskilled labor had increased from eight to ten pounds before the war to twelve to fifteen pounds.38 The increased buying power of Bermudians was seen in growing imports: $1,751,536 (U.S.) in 1939 to $2,401,225 in 1942. Deposits at island banks also increased from £2,290,571 on June 30, 1939 to £5,608,768 on December 31, 1942. The amount of local currency in circulation had increased fourfold. Finally, government revenue grew from £399,171 in 1939 to £691,285 in 1942. Despite the fears of the Bermuda Committee, the usual indicators of economic well being all pointed to the highest prosperity on record. Yet the benefits of the base construction boom were not shared equally on the island. The Controversy over Wages The issue of wage rates was resolved in Bermuda in much the same way as they had been in Newfoundland and the Caribbean. With the beginning of survey work for the bases in November 1940, the matter of wage rates for Bermudian labor became urgent. The governor called a conference that brought together government officials, representatives of the Bermuda Labour Board, major employers, and officials of the incoming U.S. Army and Navy. The governor stated that he had called this meeting “with a view of getting cooperation in the matter of the hiring of labor, otherwise there would be competitive bidding for the small amount of labour available in Bermuda with the ultimate disruption of the labour market and probably serious inconvenience to the commercial community.” It was quickly agreed to implement the Greenslade Agreement—all local personnel would be hired “as far as possible” through the Bermuda Labour Board and the prevailing wage rates would be respected.39 Those attending the meeting were also told of the future labor requirements of the bases. The extent of U.S. needs worried Bermuda officials. When Major White of the U.S. Army estimated that he would need to employ 500 Bermudians, Sir Stanley Spurling, the first chairman of the Labour Board (and director of the Bermuda Transportation Company), stated that only 250 could be spared.40 The meeting then considered, but rejected, the importation of base construction labor from the Azores. The importation of African American labor was also objected to on political and economic grounds. Ultimately, the U.S. government promised to limit the employment

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of Bermudians to the bare minimum in favor of white civilians from the continental United States. Public notice was given by Sir Stanley Spurling that the Labour Board would act as the employment agency for the U.S. bases and that prevailing wage rates would be paid.41 The announcement sparked a public controversy that lasted six months. Naturally, it was hoped that the bases would cause a sharp rise in wages. According to the U.S. consul general in Bermuda, William H. Beck, “it was at first stated that it was an organized attempt on the part of the local Government to prevent the local workmen from obtaining their due in wages.” Large labor meetings were organized by the newly formed Bermuda Workers’ Association and a delegation met with the District Engineer of the Army Corps of Engineers. Public criticism was so loud that Spurling was obliged to defend the policy publicly. The prospect of employment at the bases had breathed life into Bermuda’s nonexistent trade union movement. The disdain with which the white elite viewed these protests was communicated in the unpublished history of the war. According to one source, these protests occurred “mainly because the coloured community had been counting on the arrival of ‘Uncle Sam’ to make easy money.”42 Yet what was really at issue was the white merchant elite’s fear that rising wages would produce rising expectations among the colony’s black majority. Of course, the Bermuda government refused to give any ground to the Workers Association thereby serving to heighten class and racial conflict on the island. These tensions were exacerbated by the one-sided membership of the Bermuda Labour Board, monopolized as it was by the colony’s major employers. The Dockyard and two stevedore companies were represented on the nine-member board, as was the Bank of Bermuda.43 While there were eventually several nonwhite members, none were affiliated with labor. This proved to be an important distinction as black members of the board proved just as opposed to improvements in wages and working conditions as their white colleagues. Capital therefore had a free hand. The board’s minutes reveal that it closely regulated wage classifications, wage rates, and the work week to ensure the maintenance of the status quo. Moreover, the notion of “prevailing wages” proved to be a useful fiction for employers who unilaterally set the rate with no regard for scientific method. A series of meetings in January and February 1941 established a set of standard wage rates for all local labor working at the bases. The preliminary list compiled by the board, however, were the minimums then prevailing. The U.S. Army objected to this wage schedule as it did not fairly represent the whole situation. Major White brought to the board’s attention several local firms that paid higher rates of pay. Indeed, he was “very definite in saying that he felt it was not only desirable, but strictly in accordance with the actual facts for allowance to be made for increases for the exceptional men in each grade.”44 The Labour Board agreed that a 25 percent allowance could be made in each grade. As a result, minimum and a maximum wage rates were to be incorporated into the officially sanctioned schedule.

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There was considerable disaffection over the fact that American workmen earned far more than local workmen doing the same jobs. American civilians brought to Bermuda earned significantly more than the going rate back in the United States, whereas Bermudians made a fraction of that wage rate. As a result, the Governor reported in September 1941 that “there is no doubt whatever that this apparent discrimination between the two sets of labour has given rise to a natural sense of grievance.”45 The government also blamed its wage policy and the rising cost of living for widespread dissatisfaction. Popular discontent contributed to labor unrest and the rise of trade unionism. A March 1941 strike by 148 dock workers lasting four days won the strikers a 25 percent wage increase. The United States bases also experienced a few work stoppages. There was a June 1941 strike by fiftythree men at the U.S. Army base over wages, followed by a brief strike at the U.S. submarine base over the maximum rates established by the Labour Board.46 In both cases, the strikers returned to work empty handed.47 September 1941 saw more labor troubles on the Hamilton docks where the long delays in the off-loading of ships caused problems. That month the Governor reported that several small groups of workers were active in the Bermuda Workers’ Association.48 Sir Walter Cistrine, general secretary of the British Trades Union Council, met with these trade unionists when he passed through Bermuda in 1941. Despite the labor unrest, or perhaps because of it, the House of Assembly voted down a trade union bill seventeen to fourteen.49 Opponents claimed that Bermuda was not yet ready for collective bargaining. The vote did not follow racial lines: a slight majority of white politicians supported the proposed reform, but all but one of the black members of the House did not.50 Class interest had trumped racial solidarity. In the absence of collective bargaining, the Bermuda Labour Board continued to set wage rates on the bases for the remainder of the war. Managing Labor Scarcity Once the prevailing wage standard had been fixed, the Bermuda Labour Board set out to manage labor scarcity. In theory, it tried to strike a balance between the major employers on the island. In practice, its main task was to slow the drift of labor toward the bases. To that end, the Board limited labor mobility first by the use of control cards and then by preventing employees in other “essential industries” from working at the bases. Ultimately, the shortage of labor at H.M Dockyard, the Hamilton docks, and on farms became so acute that Bermuda had to selectively import labor from Barbados and the Azores and resort to the partial conscription of labor. The wartime labor market in Bermuda was dominated by a handful of large employers. The single largest employer of labor in Bermuda was still H.M. Dockyard, a sprawling nineteenth century stone facility on Ireland Island, with 750 Bermudians on the payroll. Other major employers included the stevedore companies operating on the Hamilton docks (150–300), the

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Table 5.1 Local Employees of U.S. Army in Bermuda by Sex and Race, August 1943 Department Post Engineer Quarter Master Transportation Corps Base Exchange Officers Club TOTAL

White Men

Colored Men

Women

Total

59 2 8 0 0 69

389 34 57 28 12 520

9 73 0 10 0 92

457 109 65 38 12 681

Source: “Breakdown of figures in BBC 230/76 I by sex and color (as to males only).” File: 230.14: Hire of Employees (conference) #2, Box 33, RG 332: Bermuda Base Command, NAR A.

U.S. Naval Operating Base (700), the U.S. Army’s Fort Bell (565), the Bermuda Railway Company (120), the Bermuda Electric Light and Power Company (250), and the Bermuda government (580).51 With the revival of Bermuda’s commercial businesses in 1941, demand for labor intensified. Almost overnight, labor scarcity had become a source of considerable concern for the Bermuda government. Many employers warned that the employment demands of the American bases would result in the “serious economic dislocation of the Colony.”52 This shortage ranged from domestic servants to skilled mechanics, endangering work at H.M Dockyard and the Hamilton docks. Vice Admiral Sir Charles Kennedy-Purvis had difficulty keeping the Dockyard properly staffed with skilled and unskilled workers. By July 1941, the dockyard was down 231 men since the beginning of the year.53 Bermuda’s agricultural sector was also seriously disrupted by insufficient farm labor. The Labour Board tried to prevent the “wholesale desertion of local establishments” by requiring that all Bermudians wanting to work at the U.S. bases first apply to the Board for permission to leave their current occupations: “If economic equilibrium will not be upset and if the war effort will not be impaired, the applicant will receive an identification card from the Labor Board which constitutes his permit to apply for work at the American Bases.”54 The records of the Labour Board contain many specific examples of Bermudians denied the right to work at the bases. Frederick De Silva, for example, a former police constable at the Dockyard, was denied employment at the U.S. Army base because he did not have a control card.55 Employers sometimes used the permit system to their own advantage. Eric Marshall, a former employee of the Bermuda Railway Company, for example, had received a permit to work at the bases under false pretense (he had said that he had previously been a farmer). His former employer appealed to the Board and his control card was withdrawn, forcing his release from base employment.56 And yet, only a month later, the Bermuda Railway Company denied any claim to Marshall.57 He was now free to work on the bases. Persistent employer complaints about the inadequacy of labor control resulted in the redoubling of the effort (for more see table 5.1). The Labour Board was

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revitalized with a new chairperson in July 1941—a prominent member of the House of Assembly, E.R. Williams—and the representatives of the U.S. Army and Navy were added as ex-officio members. The presence of two American officers on the board enhanced the Board’s ability to control the situation: “One of the first fruits of the new harmony was the weeding out from the American employment lists of Bermudians who did not hold Labour Board identification cards. Due to the negligence and indifference of certain local contractors there had been a considerable number of such offenders. Now they were notified that no wages would be paid them unless suitable cards were presented.”58 American payrolls were thus cross-referenced with the Labour Board list of approved workers to rid the bases of Bermudians needed elsewhere. In October 1941, for example, the Board identified forty Bermudians working for a base contractor who did not have control cards.59 All were released. The shortage of labor at H.M. Dockyard and on farms was largely resolved by the importation of contractual labor from Barbados and the Azores respectively. The importation of 200 “coloured workmen” from Barbados for unskilled work at the dockyard was reluctantly agreed to by the Bermuda government in 1941.60 Somewhat more willingly, the government also agreed to bring in seventy-eight Portuguese farm workers under contract from the Azores.61 These migrant workers were barred from leaving their jobs. Yet the shortage of labor on the docks still needed a resolution. In September 1941, there were only eighty men available for work on any given day and it was reported that the dock workers were on the verge of another strike. After a direct appeal from the Governor, the U.S. Army agreed in November to let a member of the Bermuda Labour Board, who happened to own the largest stevedore company, go through its payroll and pick forty-five former dock workers to be released without explanation.62 This telling example demonstrates just how close the relationship had become between the representatives of the U.S. and Bermuda on the Labour Board. How could the government ensure that these men returned to dock work? To meet this problem, the Bermuda Labour Board considered three options: the importation of nonwhite contract workers from the British Caribbean, the importation of American dock workers, or the conscription of labor. The first option was rejected on racial grounds. The second option was rejected on the basis that it would introduce unions into Bermuda. The stevedore companies and the government did “not desire to have the local black laborers become organized.” As a result, Bermuda opted for the conscription of dock labor.63 The governor promulgated a regulation on December 20, 1941 that gave himself the authority to direct any British subject to perform such work as required.64 “By this step,” the American vice consul noted, “the Government now not only had the power to prevent persons from leaving essential employment, but also had the authority to order persons to leave their normal work to perform essential work where practicable.”65 The registration of dock workers that followed resulted in a list of 569 men: 169 identified themselves as permanent full-timers and another 400 as

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part-timers.66 The Bermuda Labour Board estimated that 234 were immediately required on the docks. To reach that number, a tribunal considered which part-time dock workers were to be called up. Appeals were heard from a variety of people claiming absolute, temporary, medical, or conditional exemptions. By resorting to compulsion, however, the government was obliged to pay men for a full work week at a minimum wage. But how much and who should pay? It was agreed that conscripted dock workers, wearing brass badges reading “Bermuda Labour Board,” would be guaranteed 16 pounds every four weeks.67 To maximize their labor value, the conscripts acted as a floating reserve to be shared by the docks, the bases and the dockyard.68 The archival record, though partial, suggests that conscription was never fully put into effect. Four hundred dock workers were called up in February–March 1942 and all those registered as dock workers found themselves barred from working at the bases. Quite clearly, then, the new measure served to protect employers paying substandard wages. Take the case of W.G.E. Stevens who wanted approval to leave his job with the Bermuda Electric Light Company for the U.S. Navy base for higher wages. In support of his appeal, the U.S. Navy noted that he was being underpaid in his existing job. His appeal was denied and the company won protection from the board. Many other companies sought similar protection. The board agreed to a request from the Manager of the Cable and Wireless Company on condition that the company’s low wages become increased. But because the board did not want to be accused of “fixing wages,” it expressed its concern using diplomatic (and nonbinding) language.69 Evidently, the Board’s fear of being criticized for controlling wages was limited to minimum rates as no similar fear was expressed about the fixing of maximum ones. The number of protected employers continued to grow. Not only did the island’s two bakeries win this designation, but the Belmont Manor, a luxury hotel, also found protection. To further control the situation, the Essential Work (General) Order of November 30, 1942 required that employees of essential services not leave their jobs without the prior approval of their employer.70 Inevitably, some workers wanting to be released from their local employers to work for higher wages at the bases sought to force the issue. Several employers observed instances of employees “making themselves objectionable so that they would receive a discharge and then would be free to get a Labour Card for employment at the Bases.” F. Bassett, for example, made him self so objectionable that he won his release from the Dockyard. Advised of his efforts, the Board refused to give him a card to work at the bases anyways.71 Another man desperate to work for the Americans tried to acquire a card under three separate aliases. Others became abusive to their employers. Ivor C. Simonds won his release this way, but his behavior was reported to the Bermuda Labour Board that placed him on a blacklist as far as base construction work was concerned.72 As the shortage of workers persisted into 1943, the Bermuda government appointed a Manpower Commission to investigate the labor situation in the

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colony. It found that wages were only part of the reason why Bermudians did not want to work for local employers. Working conditions also proved important. On July 6, 1943, the Manpower Commission heard testimony from two representatives of the Dockyard Local Workingman’s Association— Mr. Douglas and Mr. Smith—who reported that the absentee problem was the result of the lack of paid leave and intolerable working conditions. The issue most troubling black Bermudians at the Dockyard, however, was the matter of racial discrimination. Douglas told the commissioners: “When a man has the feeling he was not being treated fairly, he stayed out and had a day’s rest. The notices that could be seen all over the Dockyard differentiating between one type of person and another were an example of what he meant.”73 Smith agreed that notices plastered all over the Dockyard reading “White men only” or “Coloured men only” bred discontent. Both labor representatives believed that the signage that only appeared after the importation of the Barbadians should be removed. In typical Bermuda fashion, the Commissioners advised that it would be “quite sufficient for a notice to have the word ‘Reserved’ on it.”74 Racial segregation on the island should be discreet, they reasoned. To thwart the additional importation of nonwhite labor, the commission recommended the general registration of manpower ages sixteen through sixty, which was carried out in August–September 1943.75 A total of 6,469 men were registered. Labor registration required that all adult men carry a labor card stamped by the Police Commissioner.76 These cards had to be shown when applying for work. Women were not registered under the act even though the conscription of female labor was discussed. One Commission member rejected the idea out of fear that it would act as a “lever” in favor of women’s suffrage.77 In the end, the wholesale conscription of labor was not resorted to. By the time that the commission reported, the manpower problem had largely solved itself with the end of the base construction boom. The report was thus consigned to the “parliamentary nether region” and its chairman, Sir Herbert Henniker-Heaton, was the butt of “numerous satirical and scornful speeches.”78 Holding the Line on Wages Despite the best efforts of the Bermuda Labour Board, prevailing wages increased throughout the war. The upward revision of the official wage schedule, gradual as it was, was inevitable given the soaring cost of living in Bermuda. The rising prices for foodstuffs, for example, eat up much of the wage gains made by Bermuda workers during the war. Imported foods were expensive and undependable given the problems in Atlantic shipping. A severe drought in the summer of 1941 that delayed planting and reduced yields resulted in the shortage of locally grown green vegetables and a potato blight inflated prices on that staple.79 Fish also increased in price as the total fish catch in 1941 was just 25 percent that of 1939.80 Although no cost of living index was compiled, the American Vice Consul estimated that potato

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prices had risen 60 percent and fish 50 percent since the outbreak of the war.81 Price controls and food rationing were finally introduced in June 1942 after the supply ship “City of Birmingham” was torpedoed. It had become obvious by this time that the Food and Supplies Control Board had failed to control prices. The U.S. vice consul wrote that “its policy of assistance to the merchants and disregard of the consumer was so blatantly reactionary and incompetent that even its best friends had to disavow it.”82 The governor therefore dissolved the board and replaced it with the War-Time Supplies Commission that then operated under a similar philosophy. When the food shortages became alarming in August 1942, the U.S. Navy agreed to sell $100,000 worth of staples food at cost. However, the War-Time Supplies Commission resold the food to the public at the same price, or higher, than imported foodstuffs. Thus a pound of chopped beef sold by the Navy for 27 cents cost 60 cents for the consumer; oranges sold at 35 were re-sold for 90 cents. Apparently, the inflated price (2.5 times the price sold by the U.S. Navy) was the result of Bermuda’s insistence on duty, a 10 percent government “commission,” as well as sundry handling charges and private profits for wholesalers and retailers.83 The rising cost of housing was equally grave. In sharp contrast to the strict regulation of wages, rents were free to soar to unparalleled heights. Given the acute shortage of housing, normal tenants were turned out to make way for Americans willing to pay abnormally high rents. Edwin W. Martin, American vice consul noted that there was “considerable profiteering” on the part of landlords in Bermuda.84 A shipwright at the dockyard, for example, wrote the commodore to say that he and his pregnant wife were being evicted.85 Another shipwright, finding himself in an identical situation, lamented that he was obliged to “suffer the indignity and consequent begging for something reasonable in price and comfort, when Americans are found more profitable than Englishmen. This condition for an Englishman in a British colony hardly tends to bring the present necessary best from a man.”86 If skilled workers and British officers were inconvenienced by soaring rents, the problem reached crisis proportions for ordinary Bermudians. The tenants of Mr. Patterson, a member of the House of Assembly, received a sudden 20 percent increase on January 1, 1942. Similarly, the tenants of Reginald Perryman were handed a form letter that read: “Owing to the general increase of rents being from 25% to 50% over my rents of 1940–41, I feel that it is only just for me to receive at least an increase of 20% from January 1st, 1942.”87 The Bermuda Dockyard Agreement Workmen’s Association and the Bermuda Dockyard Local Workingmen’s Association called for rent controls. The hardships faced by many poor Bermudians could be seen in an August 1943 letter written by Mrs. Hastings Talbot who wrote to enquire why there was no rent control on the landlord who had increased her rent three times since the war’s start. Mrs. Talbot faced yet another increase in September 1943. She and her husband, a gardener at a hospital, and their six children, were finding it impossible to make ends meet: “I do the Best I can for work

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to help so do two older girls. But as my children have never had proper food for bringing up they cannot stand up to hard house work so we have to get along on the wages husband earns.”88 She could not see how the family would buy school shoes and books, pencils and pay school fees: “I read of plenty of money in Bermuda. But fail to be able to get any to properly feed my children and put by for sick days. I also have 2 girls I’ve been wanting to send to High School for the last 2 years but can’t make it, one wants to be a nurse.” With two rent agents in the House of Assembly, she did not see much hope of government intervention. In fact, a rent control bill had already gone down to defeat nineteen to twenty-six in the House of Assembly.89 If wartime inflation fueled demands for wage increases, the American desire to pay top scale wages also played some part. According to E.R. Williams, chairman of the Labour Board, the Americans would usually start a man at the intermediate level and after two or three weeks bump him up to the maximum. This was in keeping with President Roosevelt’s secret orders to the Army and Navy. Repeated attempts by Bermuda to have base construction workers start at the minimum wage rate were rebuffed and the U.S. Navy covertly paid many Bermudians more than the maximum. The attractiveness of base employment was further enhanced by the American desire to move to a forty-eight-hour work week from the fifty-four hours required by the Bermuda Labour Board.90 Time and again the U.S. Army and Navy asked for permission to move to a shorter work week and every time they were refused. There were officially three sets of hours on the U.S. Army base: forty-eight hours for American civilian workers, fifty-four hours for local labor, and seventy-two hours for locals working as cooks. In 1942–43, the U.S. Army and Navy were directed by Washington to adopt the forty-eight-hour work week. The U.S. Navy justified this change to Bermuda on the difficulty of employing Bermudian employees for nine hours a day and American supervisory staff for eight hours.91 If approved, overtime pay would be paid to those working in excess of the new norm. True to form, the Labour Board once again refused to consider the change even though the chairman told the navy commander that—in spite of what the board had in the past indicated—the fifty-four-hour work week in Bermuda was a “myth.”92 The army managed to effect the change only after it reclassified its hourly employees as salaried. The desire of the Bermuda Labour Board to prevent the United States from raising wages or reducing the work week was again demonstrated when the Army sought to provide overtime pay to eighty-five black employees of the base laundry.93 The employees agreed to extend their now standard work week from forty-eight to fifty-four hours as long as they were paid overtime. The army noted that this change was justified given the fact that the forty-eight-hour work week prevailed at civilian laundries on the island. Yet Brigadier General A.G. Strong, commanding Bermuda Base Command, was not optimistic: “Judging from several conferences by officers of this command with this special committee and with individual members of the Labor Board it is doubtful if the latter will accede to our proposal.” 94 He even asked the

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United States consul general to take the matter up with the governor, to no avail. The Bermuda Labour Board objected on the grounds that Bermudians should be paid overtime only in excess of fifty-four hours per week. The minutes of the Labour Board, however, reveal a second reason. Wage increases for women employed at the bases were objected to on the grounds that they would inflate the rate of domestic help in private homes. This happened more than once. When Major Rafferty requested higher wages for female cleaners at the Base Hospital who, he said, did not earn enough to live on, a prominent board member opposed the increase, saying “a great many domestics do not sleep in and that the rate now being paid at the Base laundries is seriously upsetting other laundries and the matter requires consideration.” 95 He feared that wealthy Bermudians would “no longer be able to maintain their homes.” At this time, it came to the attention of the Labour Board that the U.S. Navy had been quietly paying many of its employees more than the prevailing wage scale allowed.96 A subcommittee of the Board reviewed the wage scales prevailing in the colony and directed the Navy to roll-back its wages to those set by the Labour Board, as per the Greenslade Agreement.97 The ramifications were immediate. Dr. E.A. Cann, a trade union spokesperson, noted that the June 1944 wage rollback “gave further impetus to the movement towards the formation of a labour union.” 98 It also led to, the American Consul General explained, “an examination of the machinery for enabling reliable information to be obtained as to current wage rates. As a result, Defense Regulations were prepared compelling employers to furnish information to the Labor Board on demand, subject to heavy penalties for failure to do so, or for supplying inaccurate information.” 99 An emboldened Bermuda Workers’ Association and an outraged Bermuda Longshoremen’s Association went a step further and demanded that trade unionists be appointed to the Labour Board to temper employer influence: “There is sectional interest in its stark nakedness.”100 Their appeals were ignored. Soon thereafter, the U.S. Navy began to complain that it was now losing employees to local employers who were offering higher wages and shorter hours. Similar demands to open up the civil service to black Bermudians in 1943 were rebuffed. A ten-member committee, composed of five white members and five black, was formed to consider the matter. They feared, however, that this would result in the appointment of black customs officials and “that this might seriously impair the tourist industry on which the Bermuda economy is based.”101 The rising level of labor and racial strife in Bermuda is apparent in the personnel records of Bermuda Base Command (U.S. Army). Various officials reported cases of “insubordination” among the construction work force. Four black Bermudian workers, for example were let go in a single week in September 1944.102 A few months earlier, in July 1944, Samuel Albert Ray was fired on account of his refusal to work over-time. These rising tensions

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were sometimes seen in racial confrontations on and off the bases. In January 1942, for example, a disturbance broke out at the Canadian Hotel, an establishment that catered to Bermuda’s black majority. Bermuda’s governor described the incident as follows: a large crowd of U.S. Navy personnel gathered outside the Hotel. Bermuda police constables saw an American sailor James Richards, a “coloured West Indian long resident in this colony of good standing,” and the owner of the hotel. Richards’ glasses were broken and his face cut. However, when he struck back the white crowd grew angry.103 The sight of black Bermudians in uniform frequently antagonized U.S. servicemen. Private Mifford Simon, for example, struck a member of the Bermuda militia outside Somer’s Opera House in 1944.104 In a separate incident, Private Woodrow W. Tallent was found guilty of drawing a knife on a black member of the militia. Race also underlay the 1943 special court martial of Staff Sergeant Samuel A. Sherna who was found guilty of using a jeep as a weapon against a black Bermudian standing on the roadside. Prior to the crime, he had asked the man if he was “coloured” or “white.” Sherna stated in court that he had just wanted to scare the man.105 Clearly, the rising militancy of Bermuda workers had its origins in economic issues and in rising racial tensions. The war’s end did not bring immediate changes to the labor situation in Bermuda. The Labour Board continued to operate much as it had done before. In fact, the only significant change in the immediate postwar era was the adoption of the Trade Union and Trade Dispute Act of 1946. The legalization of trade unions represented a dramatic reversal from past policy and can only be explained by the trade union activism during the war. Otherwise the Bermuda government clung to its segregationist policies despite mounting domestic and international criticism.106 In the face of this opposition, the Governor of Bermuda repeated the old justification that American tourism made segregation an economic necessity. It would be “folly,” he said, for Bermuda to proceed ahead of public opinion in the United States: “it must follow and not lead.”107 Segregation only ended in Bermuda in 1959 in the face of civil rights protests. Bermuda’s civil rights movement had its roots in the war years. Dr. E.F. Gordon, a Trinidad-born physician who had been elected President of the Bermuda Workers’ Association in 1944, formed the Bermuda Industrial Union (BIU) in 1947. Acting on behalf of the BIU, Gordon hand-delivered a petition to the House of Commons in London that year that demanded the franchise and desegregation. As a result, the new Labour Government sent a strongly worded directive that led to the formation of a Joint Select Committee in Bermuda to study the matter. While it recommended the gradual extension of the franchise, it recommended against changing the colony’s Jim Crow laws. The British House of Commons subsequently censured Bermuda and the Bahamas for their race segregation in 1954, suggesting the island governments were pandering to intolerance. The BIU played a key role in the subsequent wave of civil disobedience that finally

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brought segregation to an end in 1959. Universal adult suffrage was achieved four years later in 1963. Conclusion To conclude, Bermuda’s wartime experience stands out from that of other British territories hosting ninety-nine-year American leased bases in three important respects. First, it was the only base colony to create a Labour Board modeled on the system of labor control in the Panama Canal Zone. Newfoundland and the British Caribbean adopted a much more laissez-faire approach to the hiring process. Newfoundland, for example, did not even have a labor board or an officer for much of the war. Workers there were free to come and go as they liked. Second, employers were far more visibly involved in labor control in Bermuda than in other places. Employer influence in the other base colonies was substantial albeit more informal. Third, the Bermuda authorities went further than anyone else in enforcing the prevailing wage standard. All the base colonies created prevailing wage standards of their own, but no others insisted that the United States submit its payroll lists for verification. Nor did other colonial governments require the United States Army and Navy to roll-back wages found to be in excess of the agreed maximum. Why did Bermuda adopt such an interventionist approach to the labor problems raised by the bases? In part, this was a natural result of Bermuda’s small population and land area. Unlike Newfoundland and Trinidad, Bermuda did not have a vast reserve army of unemployed to draw upon. It was thus clear from the outset that Bermuda’s labor supply was insufficient to satisfy the demands of the U.S. bases and those of other essential services such as H.M Dockyard. As a result, restrictions on worker mobility were seen as the only way to prevent serious economic dislocation. Yet the economic rationale is only part of the explanation: Political and social factors also have to be considered. The politics of race and class shaped the Bermuda government’s wartime labor policies. The House of Assembly was elected by a very small minority of propertied men, most of whom were white. This narrow franchise allowed the government to operate in the naked sectional interest of the merchant and land owning elite. Yet what is clear from the archival record is that racial politics alone does not explain Bermuda’s wartime policies. After all, half the membership of the Bermuda Labour Board was nonwhite. What is interesting here is that propertied black Bermudians elected to the House of Assembly or appointed to the Labour Board proved to be as opposed to social and labor reforms as their white colleagues. In fact, nonwhite members of the House of Assembly were more likely to vote against rent control, direct taxation, and the legalization of trade unions.108 If the Second World War helped solidify class solidarity among property owners, merchants and tourist operators, it also gave birth to a black trade union movement in Bermuda. The blatant use of the power of the state on

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behalf of merchants and landowners had a polarizing effect on postwar politics. It is no coincidence that once the divisive issue of racial segregation was resolved in the late 1950s, that white and black merchants and landowners formed the United Bermuda Party (UBP) that dominated the colony’s politics until the mid-1990s. But as during the war, the UBP was opposed by a militant labor movement. The Progressive Labour Party was first elected in the 1990s and reelected in July 2003. The American invasion of Bermuda, albeit friendly, therefore had far-reaching social, economic, and political consequences.

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Chapter 6

The American Occupation of Stephenville, Newfoundland

O

n the eve of the Second World War, Stephenville represented the largest and most prosperous settlement in the district of St. George’s—Port au Port on Newfoundland’s isolated west coast.1 Aggregate census data show that the village had experienced steady population growth since 1901, reaching nearly 1,000 inhabitants in 1935.2 This mainly French-speaking community consisted of 144 households divided into three clusters of settlement.3 The largest, known as the “parish area,” surrounded St. Stephen’s Church at the western end of Stephenville. To the east and north of the church were two other clusters of homes. The group of farms known as the “back of the ponds” area, situated next to Stephenville and Noel’s ponds, was separated from the rest of Stephenville by Blanche Brook to the west. It was this community within a community that had to make way for a new U.S. air base in 1941. But even before that transformative event, Stephenville was an oddity in rural Newfoundland, in that its inhabitants made their living from the land rather than the sea. In fact, the district accounted for the second largest number of “farmers” on the island. This terminology is noteworthy as the census also allowed people to identify themselves as “Fishermen Farmers,” that is, fishers who farmed.4 The area consisted of farms varying in size from 30 acres to 103 acres, averaging 40 acres.5 Residents owned large numbers of livestock and their dairy herd produced 35,347 gallons of milk and 2,217 pounds of butter, while their chickens laid 5,507 dozen eggs. This abundant farm production came from an area regarded as having among the best agricultural lands in Newfoundland. By comparison, the fishery was of marginal importance. The settlement supported fifty-four fishing vessels in 1911, twenty-nine in 1921, but only two dories in 1935. The collapse of the fishery contributed to the large number of local men working in the woods during the winter months. In fact, the men of Stephenville were jacks-of-all-trades: farming, fishing, logging, and hunting, depending on the season.6 Stephenville women, in

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Figure 6.1 Vicinity Map. Philip Bruton, “Stephenville Staging Field—Boundary Lines and Property Ownership.” Source: U.S. Engineer Office St. John’s, Newfoundland, April 25, 1941. Map 2390. RG 4.3. PANL.

turn, worked at home, weaving, spinning, gathering, and raising children. This combination of occupations served residents well. Few Stephenville people were on the dole during the 1930s.7 The U.S. Army’s decision to locate an emergency landing field for aircraft in the St. George’s Bay area, more specifically at Stephenville, triggered immediate changes. The first Americans arrived in January 1941 and construction began in March of that year. The spatial transformation of the “back of the ponds” area was recorded in a series of three maps drawn by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers between April and October 1941. The first map (see figures 6.1 and 6.2), dated April 25, identified the area to be taken for the original base.8 It communicated much cultural and environmental detail: civilian buildings, property lines, owners’ names, wooded areas, and marsh lands. The area had been settled by a handful of families with anglicized names such as White, March, Bennet, Russell, Cormier, Gabriel, and Barry. Their social world centred on the fork in the road where the Roman Catholic school and a small store stood. By September 1941, much of this physical landscape had been demolished, cut, or filled in. A second map, dated September 17 (figure 6.3), erased everything that had existed previously,9 and the adjoining areas to be annexed the following year were already delineated, with new military uses scrawled over the old property lines.

Figure 6.2 Detail. Philip Bruton, “Stephenville Staging Field—Boundary Lines and Property Ownership.” Source: U.S. Engineer Office St. John’s, Newfoundland, April 25, 1941. Map 2390. RG 4.3. PANL.

Figure 6.3 Detail. Philip Bruton, “Harmon Field. Revised Boundary Line and Property Ownership,” September 17, 1941. Source: Map 4548. RG 4.3. PANL.

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This liminal landscape did not persist for any length of time. By late October, the imaginative boundary between town and base had been redrawn. Not only did the small vicinity map in the upper right-hand corner of the larger map situate Stephenville to the west of Harmon Field, it indicated that the two were no longer contiguous.10 The village’s location had shifted westward, both physically and imaginatively, as the base became a reality. In effect, Stephenville and Harmon Field became two distinct and separate cartographic places, even though this neat demarcation proved to be far less stable on the ground. The constantly shifting boundaries of “the Base” were matched by the dramatic changes occurring within Stephenville itself. During the war, hundreds of outsiders moved into what had hitherto been a closely knit Roman Catholic settlement.11 By November 1941, Harmon Field employed 1,301 Newfoundland men and an undisclosed number of Newfoundland women.12 Thousands of U.S. soldiers, airmen, and skilled workers also arrived. At least two questions arose with the coming of the Americans to rural Newfoundland: How could property owners be removed quickly and fairly? And could the Newfoundland government prevent the appearance of unsanitary shack towns near the American bases? These two questions would also preoccupy the authorities in the other “base colonies” in 1941. This chapter considers each question in turn. Even though the Newfoundland government passed extensive regulations dealing with both of these matters, it proved unable to control development in the Stephenville area.13 The American occupation of Stephenville may have been friendly, but it was not an orderly affair. Nor was it trouble free. Rather, the transformation of this quiet farming village into a garrison town brought with it both prosperity and dislocation. The Americans arrived in January 1941 to build a small emergency landing strip covering 865 acres of farm land. It was expanded twice, adding 677 acres in July 1942 and 5,938 acres in 1943.14 By 1945, the Harmon Field air base sprawled across 7,480 acres and constituted a major stop on the North Atlantic Air Bridge that ferried bombers and fighters to England.15 This case study explores how the building of the airfield resulted in the removal of hundreds of local residents, in the deterioration of sanitary living conditions, and in the spread of venereal diseases. The piecemeal expansion of Harmon Field—similar to the development of other bases in Bermuda and the Caribbean—meant that many local residents found themselves displaced on more than one occasion. Making Way for the Americans The exchange of notes between Great Britain and the United States stipulated that a process of compensating uprooted property owners should be mutually agreed, though how this would be achieved was undetermined. From the outset, Newfoundland’s appointed Commission of Government intended to play a key role in the implementation of the agreement. Although the 1935 Public Works Act enabled the government to expropriate private property for

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a public purpose, the process proved unwieldy. Under this measure, the assessment body included the property owner (or his or her representative), who could appeal the award to the Supreme Court.16 In wartime, however, normal practice could not accommodate the large number of cases that accompanied the building of three major U.S. bases in Newfoundland, and as speed was of the essence, a made-in-Newfoundland solution had to be found. The Commission of Government proposed in November 1940 that a three-member board be appointed to hear property claims left unresolved between the parties. The proposed procedure comprised a number of steps. First, property owners would be made an offer. Failing an agreement, the claim would be heard by a board chaired by a judge of the Supreme Court.17 The written claims of displaced property owners would be compared to the government’s own valuation of the land and buildings, and having heard the claimants’ testimony, the board would appraise the value of the property and assess the damages.18 The board’s decisions would be final. This proposal received a positive reply from Canada (which was also building bases on the island), but approval did not come easily from Great Britain or the United States. The British feared that this proposal would cast into disrepute the usual system of expropriation in the other colonies where there were U.S. bases being built.19 Yet Governor Sir Humphrey Walwyn was adamant that the proposed board was the best solution for Newfoundland and for the war effort. He reminded his superiors in London that the Newfoundland Supreme Court was incapable of handling hundreds of cases in a timely fashion. Further, the residents of Argentia in Placentia Bay, where a U.S. Navy base was to be built, refused to leave their homes until they received compensation. The prospect of forcibly removing hundreds of families in the dead of winter was politically unacceptable, if not practically impossible. For base construction to begin, the cooperation of local residents was essential. While these dispatches crossed back and forth across the Atlantic, the governor received a guarded reply from the United States. Not wanting to become directly involved in the expropriation proceedings, Secretary of State Cordell Hull agreed to the Newfoundland proposal, subject to several conditions.20 The most troubling of these was the U.S. insistence on a veto over the board’s decisions, thus making it little more than an advisory body, which would prolong the process still further. Governor Walwyn reminded the U.S. government that the destroyers-for-bases agreement stipulated that the process of determining compensation had to be mutually agreed to.21 On January 9, 1941, the Newfoundland government again insisted that no residents be moved until a mechanism for their timely compensation had been arranged.22 It remained, the governor added, transparently unfair to property owners to have their land occupied, and to have the final award made subject to U.S. approval. The U.S. government retorted that it would not write what amounted to a blank cheque, and persisted in its demand for a veto. As the dispute dragged on, the Newfoundland government bought some time by permitting the

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United States to move onto private lands in order to begin construction at Argentia, provided that residents were left undisturbed in their homes. The matter was finally resolved on January 22, when the British and American governments agreed to a second round of arbitration between the two powers in disputed cases.23 Isolated, the Newfoundland government reluctantly agreed to the arrangement, with the caveat that it be included in this final deliberation. With the overall process now agreed, the problem remained of how to assess the value of lost land and property. As noted in chapter 2, Cordell Hull had listed seven points that needed to be considered.24 Claimants should be asked under oath the price paid for the property; the date of acquisition; the cost of improvements; the assessed value for tax purposes; the taxes paid; the usual spread between assessed and market values; and the sale price of similar properties. In effect, the United States wished to apply its own system of land valuation and make market value the sole basis for property compensation. By contrast, senior members of the Commission of Government, including John H. Penson and L.E. Emerson, believed that compensation should be “based on something more than or different from a mere appraisal of the market price of the property acquired and that it should include something by way of compensation for disturbance and re-establishment.” Commissioners feared that because the cost of resettlement was bound to be higher than the market value of the land being taken, the result would be the “sorry spectacle” of people once decently housed and in reasonably good circumstances being reduced to the “position of impoverished shack dwellers.”25 The Newfoundland government therefore rejected the seven points, a decision which produced yet another impasse. To break the deadlock, the British government agreed to cover any difference between what the board of arbitration awarded and what the United States was willing to pay. Having won its case, the Newfoundland government now put its plan into effect. Incredibly, Stephenville’s residents had no contact with the Newfoundland government for the first two months following the January 1941 arrival of the Americans. Officials in the Department of Natural Resources were quietly preparing to relocate the displaced Stephenville farmers to West Bay on the Port au Port Peninsula, the only area within a forty-mile radius with farm land available, 26 but these plans were soon questioned by senior officers in the U.S. Army’s Newfoundland Base Command. Their information indicated that residents did not wish to move so far away and were content to receive monetary compensation and resettle as wage earners in Stephenville. On March 11, E. Howell, the Secretary for Agriculture and Rural Reconstruction, deploring this embarrassing situation, urged the government to take immediate action, and the acting chief ranger, R.D. Fraser, forwarded a damning report from the ranger stationed at Stephenville Crossing lamenting the lack of government oversight. Despite the impending removal of thirty-six families, the ranger wrote, “to date nothing in the shape of plans has become public regarding the disposal of these people; or the

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settling of them in other localities.”27 He urged the government to act quickly to avoid confusion or future recriminations. Finally moved to act, the government directed S.F. O’Driscoll, a land resettlement official at nearby Lourdes, to ask Father Brennan of St. Stephen’s Church about local opinion concerning relocation. O’Driscoll found Brennan pleased to speak to someone connected with the government. The Americans were already working all around them, and “[n]aturally, they are a bit worried,” O’Driscoll reported.28 Confirming the U.S. assessment of local opinion, Father Brennan said that his parishioners wished to remain in the immediate vicinity. Many of those being displaced had other parcels of land situated at the back of the air base, running towards Stephenville Crossing, and he felt certain that they would be able to resettle in that area. The anxiety felt by those being removed escalated in April, when their land and houses were appraised by a team of American engineers, led by Mr. Strape. The men measured homes, surveyed the property lines, assessed farm land, and photographed dwellings and outbuildings (figure 6.1). The district agriculturalist, Mr. Tompkins, also appraised the farm land to be taken. The land had been passed down through families for generations, it had been periodically subdivided, and few official deeds existed. It was sometimes difficult to establish title and determine the extent of property holdings. Two life-long neighbors, for example, disputed for months the ownership of several small islands. But this quarrel proved exceptional. By the end of May, Magistrate Dawson reported that all of the families removed from their homes were comfortably housed and accommodated.29 He also reported a delay in the appraisal process because of “slight discrepancies” between the U.S. and Newfoundland surveys. These differences proved to be far from slight, as the United States took serious issue with Tompkins’ land assessment. Their own estimated value of the land in fact represented less than half that recommended by Tompkins, and Colonel Philip G. Bruton, the U.S. district engineer, thought this might prevent “any possible agreement between us as to any valuation that we both can certify as not being considered excessive.”30 As a result, Bruton proceeded “to complete the appraisal reports for the various properties in question, with the idea of transmitting them to [his] Division Engineer in Washington, for forwarding to the State Department to be used as they see fit in arriving at an agreement with [the Newfoundland] Government as to the total reimbursement.”31 To discover the reasons for this large discrepancy, the Newfoundland government sent R.S. James, the chief land settlement officer, to investigate the matter. He arrived in Stephenville on June 24 and began to examine the terrain and the conflicting land classifications. Just how dissimilar the two assessments of the land were, is made clear in table 6.1. James sided with Tompkins. The Americans, he reported, suffered from a “rather nebulous idea as to actual land classifications as they apply in Newfoundland and the true value that it has both from individual and

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Table 6.1 Classification of Stephenville Farm Lands Subject to Expropriation (Acres) Land Classification Cultivated Wooded Pasturage Marsh

Tompkins (NF)

Stape (USA)

431.71 131.29 151.71 72.91

256.72 138.72 131.50 226.11

Source: Bruton to Robinson, June 12, 1941. D 26/21/5. GN 31/3A. PANL.

national points of view.”32 Accordingly, James spent considerable time during his stay explaining to the U.S. officials, there, “just how we classified land in this country.” A cultural misunderstanding lay behind this dispute, involving contrasting definitions of land use and of land value. In Newfoundland, “cultivate land” comprised land actually under the plow and yielding crops, as well as all other lands that in ordinary rotation would yield a crop. “Pasture land,” in turn, included cleared land where stones or stumps made it impossible to plow, but where livestock could graze. “Marginal Land,” by contrast, was ill-suited for cultivation or pasture, but these “wet areas” could be drained with a bit of work. By contrast, “marshland” was under a considerable depth of water that would take some time to bring under cultivation. Finally, “woodland” was defined as all wooded areas.33 Using this land classification as his starting point, James examined the discrepancies between the two reports and concluded that the problem lay in the American tendency to classify a great deal of land that Newfoundlanders would consider cultivated land as pasture land, and pasture land as marsh land. Predictably, when U.S. officials argued for universal land classifications, they were actually saying that the U.S. system should be applied to Stephenville. To this, James replied that “[s]ince cleared land is not unlimited in Newfoundland, it has, apart from the individual point of view, a tremendous value from the national point of view more especially in times of crises such as these.” Collective as well as individual considerations thus factored into the calculation of land value.34 However, District Engineer Bruton remained unconvinced and recommended against the Newfoundland valuation.35 Ultimately, they agreed to disagree and the British paid the difference.36 Secure in this knowledge, the Newfoundland government fixed standard valuations for different classes of land in each of the affected base areas. These valuations did not reflect the actual agricultural quality of the land, and political and locational factors were clearly factored in. Thus, an acre of cultivated land at Stephenville was valued at $250, while less productive land at Argentia was valued at $300. Land in the St. John’s/Pleasantville area was fixed much higher, at $400.37 The closer the farmer was to the seat of government, it appears, the higher the valuation. Stephenville residents again lost out in the calculation of compensation for disturbance. Property owners everywhere else received an extra 20 percent allowance for disturbance, but

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those in Stephenville received only 10 percent.38 The government justified these varying standards by arguing that Stephenville residents were not as disturbed by the coming of the Americans as the residents of Argentia or Pleasantville. Had St. Stephen’s Church been located in the “back of the ponds” area, or had the community agreed to relocate to West Bay, government officials might not have concluded that Stephenville’s suffering did not compare. As it stood, though, the great geographic and social distance separating Stephenville’s French-speaking farmers from English-speaking government administrators in St. John’s worked against equal treatment. Having set these rates of compensation, the Newfoundland government contacted those being displaced. Unable to respond in written English, many of the replies sent by the residents were identical in both language and style, and had obviously been composed by one individual. In each instance, Stephenville residents expressed their willingness to cooperate with the war effort, but wanted compensation for having to move, and to be paid as quickly as possible. Only a few letters took on a more personal tone. Vincent Russell, for example, wrote of his fears for his family’s future: “I have a large family and this Parcel [of] land was the living for my self and family. I am in no small way disputing as I am aware this Air Base may be needed. But what I look at Sir what and how am I to be able to maintain my family after my land is gone?”39 Similarly, John Austin wrote that the loss of his farm would have a devastating effect on his life: “Now in losing my land I do not see what I can do for a living. All the land taken here is the best farming land in Stephenville . . . . I know our lands are being taken for war purposes, but I do not understand why they should take all our cleared lands. Why don’t they take forest lands and leave the people their cleared farm lands. I never received any bonus from the Government for clearing this land nor was I on dole.”40 Time and again, these letters reveal the reluctance of farming families to give up the land that they had cleared over several generations. Their often-stated support for the war effort, in turn, suggests that they took pains not to appear unpatriotic. In June 1941, the government made an offer to residents based on what the United States was willing to pay. Of the forty-three replies received by August 12, thirty-three accepted the government’s initial offer, and ten asked that the matter go to the Board of Compensation; six had yet to respond.41 This represented a far higher acceptance rate than at either Argentia or Pleasantville, where residents decided en masse to take their claims to the Board. Whether language played a part in the decision of Stephenville residents to accept the offer is impossible to tell, but those who went to the Board won far more than their original offers. In the most extreme case, store owner Andrew E. Gallant walked away with $32,425 instead of the $16,700 he had been originally offered.42 Not surprisingly, these early awards convinced future claimants to take their chances with the board. To make matters worse, those residents who accepted the initial offer waited months for their compensation to arrive; yet without the money they

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could not afford to rebuild. Magistrate Dawson drew the government’s attention on September 26, 1941 to the dire financial circumstances of those who had been displaced. Many families, he wrote, had not been able to pay room and board for the previous three months “in spite of the fact that I have repeatedly written and ‘wired’ your Department in this connection.”43 The frustrated magistrate felt that the delay had already produced great dissatisfaction among Stephenville residents and in some cases “imposed a hardship on the people who are boarding families.” The money was sent the following week. The Stephenville claims came in three waves during the war. The first twelve claims (1S to 12S) were resolved by December 1941. After the base expanded, the Board of Compensation traveled to Stephenville in July 1942 to hear another forty-one cases (13S to 56S), and returned again in July 1943 to consider yet another 128 claims (57S to 185S). By October 1945, the Board had distributed more than $3 million to 604 Newfoundland property owners. Of this total, Stephenville’s 185 claimants received $781,270.85, not including the thirty-eight property owners who settled directly for $133,470.44 There were still twenty-six Stephenville claims outstanding. In short, from the vantage point of the Newfoundland government, the cost of removal had been high, but the process had worked relatively well. Residents had been moved quickly with minimal protest. Unfortunately, no similar claim of success could be made for the government’s handling of the deteriorating sanitary situation at Stephenville. Boom Town Blues: The Deterioration of Sanitary Conditions In the absence of a strong central government, and with no local governments outside St. John’s before 1943, virtually no regulation of growth and development existed in rural Newfoundland. People were free to build what they liked, where they liked. While this did not often pose a problem, the unregulated development that accompanied the erection of paper mills in Corner Brook and Grand Falls earlier in the twentieth century had produced unsanitary shack towns on free Crown Land adjoining the company-owned town sites. The result was a study in contrasts. A March 1943 sanitary survey of Corner Brook, for example, contrasted the well-laid-out streets, the modern buildings, and the water and sewerage service provided on the company town site, with the adjoining community of Corner Brook West where “no thought or planning” had gone into its development.45 Shacks sprawled over the hillside, and residents drank from polluted wells. Given this history, the Newfoundland government felt certain that without preventative measures, shack towns would spring up next to the outport bases at Argentia and Stephenville. The Agricultural and Rural Reconstruction Committee debated how to control the areas adjoining the bases on January 8, 1941, before the matter was brought before the commission the following day. J.H. Gorvin, commissioner for natural

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resources, feared that people working at the bases would build shacks, cafés, stores, and garages without bothering to get building permits, and suggested giving additional pwers to local magistrates.46 The commissioner for justice and defense, L.E. Emerson, proposed the incorporation of local municipalities, but other commissioners doubted that residents would support this option out of fear of higher taxes. The commissioner for public health and welfare, Sir John Puddester, therefore proposed that the government take control by designating territory adjoining the bases as special areas under the jurisdiction of the 1937 Local Administration Act, which allowed for the prosecution of offenders and the removal of buildings constructed without permit. This had been the situation at the Newfoundland Airport at Gander before the war. To deal with squatters’ rights, the government amended the act to prevent shacks from being built on Crown lands within a five-mile radius of the bases.47 On September 16, 1941, the Commission directed Puddester to exercise all powers of local authority except taxation in the Argentia and Stephenville areas. Due to his department’s limited bureaucratic capacity, this new responsibility was delegated to the local boards of health. The only local authorities in rural Newfoundland, these boards (created to administer the cottage hospitals) were the natural choice to issue building permits in the vicinity of the two bases. As expected, the arrival of the Americans in Stephenville produced a rush to buy land and erect buildings. Farm land was quickly subdivided into building lots and sold or leased on an ad hoc basis. The regulatory framework soon broke down, resulting in a hodge-podge of buildings erected on plots of every shape and size. These hastily built stores sold the wealthy mainlanders much that was not otherwise in demand: large-sized clothing, expensive women’s wear, and small leather souvenirs with “Stephenville— Newfoundland” stamped on them. Taking advantage of this new market, many long time Stephenville residents went into business for the first time. Euzeb White, for example, opened a store on his property after much of his farm land had been taken away: “We never ran a store before,” he said. “I had to do something to eat.”48 At age thirty-two, farmer-logger Ambrose Payne became a barber.49 Norbert Russell’s father, in turn, gave him a half-acre of land on which to build a garage, where he sold gas from a drum and did small automotive repairs.50 At night, he taxied in his new Dodge. Dozens of merchants and other business people followed the Americans to Stephenville to provide a range of amusements, goods and services. They were a diverse group. Maurice J. Boland of Stephenville Crossing sold his lumber interests and built a nickelodeon, the “Royal Theatre,” an ice cream parlor, a beer parlor, and a department store.51 The American trade, as it was called, also attracted Newfoundland merchants of Jewish and Syrian (Lebanese) origin from other parts of the island and from Sydney, Nova Scotia.52 The growing diversity of Stephenville inhabitants did not escape the notice of Newfoundland officials and long-time residents. Anti-Semitism surfaced when the Commission of Government prevented “undesirable

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traders” from setting up shop near the Argentia base. L.E. Emerson clarified what the government meant by “undesirable”: I can sympathize with the United States authorities in wishing to have just one or, at least the most, two reputable stores in the vicinity of their bases and which would be in accordance with Government policy to avoid the creation of a shack town by Jews and Maronites similar to Grand Falls Station [Windsor]. This must be avoided at all costs.53

To that end, the government gave the prominent and well connected St. John’s merchant firm of Bowring Brothers a virtual monopoly over the American trade at Argentia. While this policy of racial exclusion proved effective on the Crown lands surrounding Argentia, no comparable effort was implemented until much later on the privately owned lands adjoining Harmon Field. Some Stephenville residents resented the “undesirables” moving into their community. The merchant Arsene V. Gallant, for example, complained to the Board of Compensation that Others have moved in there now and are making a few dollars. There are Jew stores established there. Outsiders have come in and opened stores. Had they moved me in the beginning, I would have been better off; I could have established somewhere else near the Base. The other stores are closer to the Base.54

Men were not the only ones operating businesses in wartime Stephenville. In fact, many women owned small convenience stores and laundries. Aloysius White estimated that his wife cleared $60 a month from selling raisins, onions, and small groceries.55 Joan LaFitte, wife of a barber who relocated to Stephenville in 1941, operated a laundry business from her kitchen and a small store out of her front room selling cigarettes, soft drinks, and candy. She estimated that she earned $10 a day from the laundry work—“even on Sunday.”56 While most women’s losses were lumped into their husbands claim, Margaret Boulos Basha operated a substantial store and restaurant in her own name, and retained a separate bank account—we learn—even after she married another merchant. Three families dominated the American trade. Arsene V. Gallant, from Stephenville Crossing, opened his first store in Stephenville just before Christmas 1941. The Gaultois brothers (Francis, George, and Henry), with their business partner Richard J. McIsaac, also moved in from the same place.57 Finally, Paul and George Boulos came from afield—Millertown Junction. All three business groups lost their stores to the first base expansion in 1942, and their claims went before the Board of Compensation, where they received large settlements for damages. They used this money to rebuild and expand their business operations in close proximity to the new main gate. These included a large number of tightly packed buildings consisting of stores, tenement buildings, shacks, and various other commercial premises.58 With so many houses demolished to make way for Harmon Field, and so many people moving into the settlement, there was naturally an acute

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housing shortage. W.L. Whelan, solicitor for many of the displaced families, wrote the government in March 1942 with disturbing news: “The situation this Spring is much more difficult than it was last Spring, as this year, people who are moved from their homes have no place to go. Every house in Stephenville outside the Base area is filled up, and I feel quite sure not one family could be placed.”59 Displaced residents found that they now competed for scarce housing with incoming Newfoundland civilians, as well as the families of U.S. commissioned and noncommissioned officers.60 Some of the newcomers naturally constructed shack dwellings, usually at night when they were not building the base itself. Mack Hulan, for example, purchased a thirty-foot by thirty-foot plot of land in June 1941, and built a small one-story building with clapboard siding and a flat tar-paper roof for his family. Others leased small plots of land, or built shacks on Crown land alongside Noel’s Pond.61 Due to their uncertain tenure, these squatters did not make improvements to the grounds or to their rudimentary structures.62 The most notorious slum developments were the tenement blocks built a stone’s throw from “the Gate.” On a single acre of land, amidst their many other businesses, the Boulos and Gaultois brothers erected seventeen and eighteen apartments respectively. Built close together, these tenements were long, narrow one-story buildings made of rough lumber. One of the longer tenement buildings housed ten families.63 Typically, each one-room apartment held two to five persons. There were no sanitary conveniences on the property, so tenants used nearby public toilets—little more than raised boards with shallow holes dug underneath. Not surprisingly, the three wells located nearest Boulos’ tenement blocks were badly polluted. Unsanitary conditions were not the only public health issue troubling the U.S. Army, who found the problem of venereal disease control particularly difficult in Stephenville.64 Throughout the war, Newfoundland Base Command (NBC) tracked the number of U.S. servicemen infected at its various bases, and found that Harmon Field had the worst record in 1943. Although the overall numbers were small, the rate was generally high even for NBC, which had higher rates of infection than other commands in the eastern United States and Bermuda.65 The rate of infection showed great seasonal fluctuation, with Harmon Field’s rate peaking in the spring and summer months of 1943 (see table 6.2). To counteract this problem, the U.S. authorities treated infected women at the base hospital “gratis” but lamented the fact that they could not compel treatment. This state of affairs changed on April 8, 1943 when the district’s civilian medical health officer authorized Harmon Field’s venereal-disease control officer to “request the local police to produce any local resident he may designate for blood tests. Photographs are to be made of such apprehended individuals and in some cases necessary sulfathiazole therapy will be administered. The photographs will serve to acquaint Military Police only with these suspects and they will have orders to require any soldier seen in their company to receive prophylaxis.”66

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Table 6.2 Composite Monthly Rates of Venereal Disease Infection at Harmon Field, April 1943–March 1944 (per 1,000, with Actual Number in Parenthesis) Month

April 1943 May 1943 June 1943 July 1943 August 1943 September 1943 October 1943 November 1943 December 1943 January 1944 February 1944 March 1944 TOTAL CASES

Harmon Field

Newfoundland Base Command

54.74 (4) 17.68 (1) 107.64 (6) 85.71 (6) 0 0 40.26 (3) 0 28.69 (2) 0 17.36 (1) 25.77 (2) 25

14.58 (13) 15.62 (12) 18.95 (15) 24.09 (23) 17.81 (14) 20.21 (11) 14.55 (12) 24.29 (16) 20.22 (16) 23.35 (13) 31.49 (17) 16.25 (11) 173

Source: These figures were compiled using venereal disease reports in NAR A. RG 338. NBC.

With each case of venereal disease discovered among U.S. servicemen, the “source” of the infection was hunted down.67 Interrogation of the infected servicemen, whose cooperation was required to escape punishment, led to the identification of civilian women. The resulting case histories identified the race and age of the soldier and the time of infection. The second part of the form asked the name or nickname of the “alleged contact,” her address, race, age, height, weight, eye color, hair color, other descriptive features, occupation, place of employment, “type of contact” (wife, friend, pick-up, streetwalker, brothel, call girl); place of exposure (home, hotel, cab, auto or trailer, brothel, other), name and address of place of exposure, condition of patient at time of exposure (intoxicated, drinking moderately), prophylaxis. The final section detailed the “Procurement History.” In this standardized form, women were labeled “suspects” by the U.S. Army and held solely responsible.68 The contact histories reveal that the large majority of cases involved a casual “pick-up” while intoxicated. Where the “source” was identified as a civilian female employee of NBC, she was immediately discharged and treated. Where women lived also came under scrutiny. Corporal Fagan, a Ranger stationed in Stephenville, reported that “unmarried girls—girls of questionable reputation” lived in some of the tenement buildings. He cited one case where a “notorious girl” lived with a U.S. sergeant. Fagan had the landlords evict the couple and extracted a promise to henceforth check men’s marriage certificates. Many “delinquent girls” were drummed out of town by the combined efforts of the base authorities, the rangers, and the clergy. In one celebrated incident, the local priest directed in his sermon that no parishioner should lodge or board two women purported to be prostitutes.

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Having been publicly branded, the women temporarily slept in fields or parked cars before being forced to leave town.69 With the infection rate among servicemen embarrassingly high, the United States took a number of additional precautionary measures. No soldier was allowed to leave the base on a liberty pass unless he had a prophylaxis kit in his possession. Likewise, all intoxicated soldiers and airmen returning to Harmon Field after a night away received prophylaxis. The usual educational lectures and films were also supplemented by the showing of U.S. Army venereal disease films to civilians at the local movie house. Lastly, military men living off-base were required to prevent suspected “promiscuous females” from living in their homes. Despite these measures, the spread of venereal diseases went largely unchecked within the civilian population. While there is little data available as to the extent of the contagion, 117 routine examinations in nearby St. George’s uncovered 49 cases of syphilis. The army’s medical authorities reported that the entire civilian population west of St. George’s was infected, but this claim may have been racially motivated: “These people are descendants of the Micmac Indians and the early French settlers and are called Jackie-Tars. They are poor, uneducated, have low moral standards and are sexually promiscuous. The population shifts frequently with the men going to work in the logging camps and the women in the towns.” For the stated medical reasons, the U.S. Army declared this area “Off-Limits” to its personnel. In addition to race segregation, also left unsaid was the embarrassing fact that venereal diseases had come with the Americans. By comparison, the public health efforts of the Newfoundland government were meager. The cottage hospital at Stephenville Crossing was in such a state of disrepair that at one point its refrigeration, light and water systems were out of order. These problems were longstanding.70 The hospital also lacked operating room equipment, instrument sterilizers, operating gowns and a resident doctor. A civilian doctor visited the hospital once a week. Given the sad state of civilian medical care in the area, the base hospital at Harmon Field accepted civilian patients throughout the war.71 All emergencies were therefore handled by U.S. medical personnel. Major James R. Bell related the case of one desperate father whose wife had been discharged from the cottage hospital with a week-old baby who was unable to nurse, but no milk was available. The man pleaded with the U.S. Army for assistance, but under strict instructions from Commissioner Puddester on the subject, an obviously frustrated Bell declined to lend or sell the man any milk. Major Bell nonetheless wrote Puddester to say that these matters “must be corrected by the Commissioners.” This story of government neglect undermines more positive interpretations of public health administration in Newfoundland. What existed on paper and what happened on the ground in rural Newfoundland represented two very different realities. The reasons for the deterioration in Stephenville’s sanitary conditions and the increased rate of venereal disease among U.S. servicemen in the spring and summer months of 1943 had much to do with the rumored

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enlargement of Harmon Field.72 By February 1943, everyone in Stephenville believed that the shack town outside the Gate would soon be swallowed up by the base. The emergency landing strip had become a major stepping stone in the Atlantic Air Bridge: the ferrying of bombers to England. In anticipation of this announcement, and with full knowledge that compensation would follow, a building boom erupted.73 Much of this feverish activity was little more than blatant opportunism. Corporal Fagan reported in May that: Huge buildings were hurriedly pushed up with no apparent necessity existing for their erection. Two theatres were erected, a huge warehouse, and numerous buildings. All of the buildings are of the cheapest construction, with clapboard nailed to the studding: the purpose behind their erection is evident—to make a “rake-off” when the property is eventually acquired by the Government. Quite recently, I served notice on certain people that the land on which they were building was required for the American Base. They continued on building. All the above were erected under permit issued by the Secretary of the Local Board of Health, Stephenville Crossing. Some of the Permits inspected by me have for their expiration date ‘June 20, 1943.’74

In exasperation, Fagan undiplomatically ended his report by asking his superiors whether “a repetition of the conditions referred to above [were] going to be permitted outside the new Base boundaries?” Would the shack town just move a little down the road as it had done previously? He added bleakly: “We know the people we are dealing with and know what to expect. As soon as they receive notice to move from their present locations, they will commence to build again outside the new boundary line. Even now, certain businessmen are acquiring building lots located in proximity to the new Base boundaries.”75 At about the same time, disturbing reports about the rapidly expanding shack town were being received in faraway St. John’s from Medical Corps officers stationed at Harmon Field. Captain Earl S. Hallinger wrote in February 1943 that adjacent to the Gate there existed a “large number of temporary type shanties and shacks, in which live the families of twenty enlisted men, and others who may be considered as ordinary ‘camp followers.’ This situation is bad from the health standpoint, not only because of the crowded and unsanitary conditions existing there, but also because of the presence in this area of a few highly undesirable females.”76 In May, he repeated his warning that the area constituted a “menace to the health of the command, and is rapidly becoming more intolerable due to increase in number of buildings now being erected in that locality.”77 On May 26, U.S. diplomat Charles S. Reed II warned the Newfoundland government that unscrupulous individuals in Stephenville were rushing the construction of buildings in order to claim additional compensation.78 As the race to build continued unabated, U.S. consul general George D. Hopper wrote to the Newfoundland government on July 9 to say that his country had no intention of compensating anyone who built after December 8, 1942, the day that the United States advised Newfoundland that it intended to

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expand Harmon Field. To make his point, Hopper cited one enterprising merchant who erected a store and placed empty shoeboxes on the shelves in order to say that the business was a “going concern.”79 With the United States now raising the alarm, the Commission of Government finally came to the realization that the situation in Stephenville had badly deteriorated. Taken aback by what he witnessed during his visit on June 4, 1943, Puddester reported that: “Only the width of a military road separates the settlement from the buildings on the Base, and some of the houses of the settlement are literally situated right at the door of the Base, being less than a stone’s throw from the entrance gates.” He concluded that for all intents and purposes this settlement was contiguous with the base itself, and thus had a direct bearing on the health of the servicemen stationed there. Very few buildings in this area, whether commercial or residential, “could pass muster under any system of inspection, no matter how mild the minimum requirements might be.” Settlers lived in “little more than shacks covered with tarred paper,” and the tenements were so poorly constructed that he could see the ground beneath the flooring, and the apartments were open to wind and weather. The surroundings were in an “untidy and very filthy condition” with household garbage and slops being disposed by “throwing them into open cess pools which constitute a serious menace to health.” The only sanitary conveniences were small privies “covered with tarred paper and set up all over the place.” Sent to Stephenville to help clean up the mess, the sanitary inspector Dr. Bishop fined shack owners for polluting the waters of Noel’s Pond, the main source of drinking water for Harmon Field. He ordered that the tenements be emptied of their occupants, and found the well water supply of the town to be “uniformly and grossly contaminated by sewage and human excreta.” This finding convinced the U.S. Army to temporarily place off-limits all cafes, barber shops, and other establishments using water in the course of their business.80 The great expansion of Harmon Field that followed resulted in the bulldozing of the shack town. In addition to the usual military reasons given for the supplemental lease, the base expansion of 1943–44 was justified on the basis of “control of the administration, health and discipline of military personnel.”81 Evidently, the inability of the Newfoundland government to control growth in Stephenville had convinced the U.S. authorities to take matters into their own hands. The Board of Compensation visited Stephenville in July 1943 to hear the claims of those displaced (table 6.3). As expected, the larger merchants claimed exorbitant investments for their newly erected premises. This time round, however, they faced sometimes tough cross-examination. For example, they were repeatedly asked whether they knew that the buildings going up would soon be expropriated. The lawyer for Francis Gaultois retorted: “I want to quash right now any feeling this Board might have, or any suggestion that Mr. Gaultois went down there and built in the expectation of a large reward from this Board.” More often, however, those questioned fell back on the simple truth that they had been issued a building permit.

154 Table 6.3 Claim # 88S 92S 89S 80S 95S 128S TOTAL

BASE COLONIES IN T HE W EST ERN HEMISPHERE

Selected Amounts Claimed and Awarded for Property in Stephenville, 1943–44 Name George Boulos Paul Boulos Boulos and Co Gaultois and McIsaac Maurice J. Boland Austin and Rodney White —

Amount Claimed 23,915.40 14,337.60 63,503.85 83, 845.40 90,124.26 29,096.90 304,923.41

Amount Awarded 5,970 4,370 9,515.60 17,637.20 41,630 15,800 94,912.80

Source: Information compiled from the case files found in GN 4/3 at PANL.

The huge difference between claims and eventual awards can be explained by the Board’s decision not to award compensation for lost profits. Unhappiness with this decision led many claimants to demand a re-hearing. In August 1944, twenty-eight Stephenville claimants who had refused to vacate their premises were summoned to St. George’s to appear before the Supreme Court in Circuit, which ruled in favor of the government. Once served notice, most of the holdouts left the next week.82 But, unwilling to accept the Board’s $610 award for their shack dwelling, Cecelia White and her husband Remi refused to leave. After repeated warnings, the Newfoundland Rangers entered the house in October 1944 and removed the couple’s furniture and possessions and placed them on the ground a short distance away.83 A little-known chapter in Stephenville’s history had come to an abrupt end. How, then, did the public health situation in Stephenville deteriorate so badly? The testimony of two of the three members of the local Board of Health, Charles “Charley” Martyn and Richard J. McIsaac, before the Board of Compensation provide a clue. It turns out that the board’s chairman, Magistrate Dawson, who lived in St. George’s, did not involve himself in its day-to-day operation. The work thus fell to the two other members, both residents of Stephenville Crossing. That Richard J. McIsaac, business partner of the Gaultois brothers, was party to some of the worst violations of the building regulations did not go unnoticed. Still, the permits were issued by Charles Martyn, the board’s secretary-treasurer. Although Martyn agreed that the purpose of the Board was to ensure that public health was not jeopardized, he claimed that he had “no powers to interfere in any way.”84 As a result, he issued building permits to all comers, and failed to conduct a single inspection even though he was required to do so. When asked about this failure, Martyn replied that he had not bothered as “there w[ere] no funds for anybody to go down, so nobody went. The machinery broke down through lack of funds and organization.” Martyn also complained that he did not get satisfaction from the many letters he had sent to St. John’s about being paid: “I get no remuneration; not even ‘thank you’ for this job. I do not see why I should fly all over Stephenville about these permits.”85

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The trouble began, Martyn argued, in the spring of 1943 when business owners displaced the previous year moved “a little further down to the entrance of the Base and built again.” Some of the businessmen, he said, had not “played the game by building these sorts of buildings.” Gaultois and Boulos, for example, first made application to build a store and then “roughly fixed them up and rented them out for people to live in. There had been no permit for that sort of building.” Martyn’s testimony confirms that there had been no control of development in Stephenville before June 1942 when the permit system began, and only nominal supervision thereafter. Building permits were issued on demand. He even continued to issue permits after it had become evident that the area would soon be expropriated for the base. “There was nothing to prevent me,” he testified. Martyn had received no instruction to do otherwise. Despite this assertion, a letter instructing the local Board of Health to desist from issuing permits was sent to Magistrate Dawson on April 20, 1943. The local board was to “go very slow about issuing any building permits at all until the area of enlargement of Harmon Field has been definitely made known to us. It would therefore be best to have all applications for permission to build referred to this Department before any permit is issued.”86 The letter also instructed Dawson to enforce departmental building and public health regulations—“no permit should be granted except upon a definite undertaking by the applicant to comply with the conditions of the Department”—and that building sites be inspected. Though this letter did not demand an outright suspension of building permits, it came very close to doing so. The Stephenville situation proved intensely embarrassing to Commissioner John Puddester, who had already had food control removed from him due to departmental bungling. Now, his department risked taking the blame for the unsanitary condition of Stephenville. In private, Puddester admitted candidly to a fellow commissioner that “nothing like the control required and instructed by this Department had been exercised” there.87 But at no time did Puddester take personal responsibility for what happened. Just as Martyn blamed the failures of a distant government, Puddester placed all the blame squarely on the local Board of Health. Puddester noted that his department had a local official (presumably Martyn) brought to St. John’s for detailed instructions, and had believed that the situation in Stephenville was “well in hand” until complaints from the Americans began to arrive in May 1943. There had evidently been no supervision of the local Board of Health in the interim. Having drawn the same conclusion, the government ceded control of commercial development in Stephenville to the commanding officer of Harmon Field in 1944. For the remainder of the war, anyone wanting to start a business in Stephenville had to get U.S. approval. In its effort to impose order on Stephenville, the U.S. Army barred undesirable traders from rebuilding in the area. This decision resulted in the dispersal of the wartime business community that had sprouted up next to the base. Nonetheless, the problem of shack development persisted, culminating in the suspension of all civilian

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construction in the area from July 1, 1945 till October 18, 1946. Creative minds got around the suspension by constructing shacks outside the controlled area and moving them into Stephenville.88 A.V. Gallant simply went ahead and built his new store, making the suspension a “laughing stock.”89 The problem of disorderly growth thus did not end with the war. Asked if these illegally built dwellings and businesses should be torn down, Magistrate Scott replied in 1948 that it would serve no useful purpose as the problem had become “systemic” to the Stephenville area.90 Conclusion The coming of the Americans to Stephenville in 1941 resulted in several years of disorderly growth, punctuated by successive removals as Harmon Field expanded to encompass an ever-wider area. This pattern of base expansion, similar to the other base colonies, resulted in a constant state of uncertainty for Stephenville residents. The way of life of the older farmers had been profoundly disrupted, and the local magistrate doubted that the younger generation would ever return to the land. But what represented a tragedy for some proved to be an opportunity for others. Wartime Stephenville featured a large number of stores, amusements, shacks and tenements packed into a confined area next to the main gate of the base. Isolated from civilian authority, there was nobody to regulate growth. Sudden population growth produced an unsanitary shack town. Makeshift privies and cesspools quickly polluted the town’s drinking water. This boom atmosphere peaked in the spring and summer months of 1943 when a building rush erupted in anticipation of windfall compensation payments. By then, it was an open secret that the community’s ramshackle business district would soon be swallowed up by the base. The Newfoundland government’s decision to delegate the power to issue building permits to a voluntary local Board of Health and its failure to oversee matters thus proved disastrous. This mercenary behavior provides ample proof that business owners had hitherto fared well in Board of Compensation proceedings. At a minimum, the oft-repeated claim that Newfoundlanders would have fared better had they negotiated directly with the United States for property compensation is unsupported by the archival record. Though known for its wealth and generosity, the U.S. government did not recognize Newfoundland’s customary allowance for collective property rights, replacement value, moving costs, legal fees, and damages, including disturbance and lost profits. Had the Newfoundland government not insisted on applying its own more expansive notion of property valuation, compensation would have been limited to the market value of the land and property taken. Order was only imposed in late 1943 when the U.S. Army expropriated the offending shack town and won the right to regulate commercial development outside the leased area. Like elsewhere in the base colonies, the transformation of Stephenville into a garrison town proved to be a disorderly and drawn-out affair.

Chapter 7

The Racial Politics of Criminal Jurisdiction

O

ne of the many issues raised by these occupations, friendly or otherwise, is the thorny matter of criminal jurisdiction. In the difficult negotiations that followed the initial exchange of notes, the United States insisted that American servicemen not be subject to local courts. The British authorities resisted these demands, as did the base colonies themselves.1 Indeed, the territorial delegations from Newfoundland, Bermuda, and Jamaica were adamant that all mention of U.S. sovereignty be dropped. After three weeks of often rancorous debate, the negotiation of the Bases Agreement of March 1941 nearly collapsed over jurisdiction and customs duties. It was only Prime Minister Winston Churchill’s personal intervention that saved the day. Yet the resulting compromise satisfied no one.2 Article 4 of the Bases Agreement stated that the United States enjoyed exclusive jurisdiction in criminal cases occurring within the leased areas. Thus, if an American serviceman murdered a British subject on one of the U.S. bases he would be tried by military court martial. The United States also had the right to try and punish offenses of a “military nature,” no matter where they occurred. What constituted such an offense, however, was not entirely clear. The agreement stated that this term included, but was not restricted to, treason, sabotage, or espionage. Otherwise, the American offender could be tried by either a U.S. court martial or a civilian court (see table 7.1).3 British subjects and resident aliens also came under U.S. jurisdiction for offenses committed within the leased areas or for crimes of a military nature. Although the Bases Agreement of March 1941 provided a single legal framework governing day-to-day relations, it was not implemented uniformly.4 Naturally, the ambiguity of “concurrent jurisdiction” became a source of friction between the United States, Great Britain, and colonial governments. The matter of criminal jurisdiction was further complicated by the unwillingness of the United States to have its white men in uniform tried by “colored” judges or juries, or even arrested by “native” police officers. This posed a problem in the British Caribbean where much of the judiciary was nonwhite.

158 Table 7.1

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Jurisdiction over Criminal Offenses, Article 4, Bases Agreement

Criminal Offenses

British Subject

American Citizen

Resident Alien

Crimes Inside the Leased Areas

U.S. Jurisdiction

U.S. Jurisdiction

U.S. Jurisdiction

Crimes of a “Military Nature” (No Matter the Location)

U.S. Jurisdiction

U.S. Jurisdiction

U.S. Jurisdiction

Other Crimes Outside the Leased Areas

British Jurisdiction

Concurrent Jurisdiction

British Jurisdiction

The great influx of American servicemen inevitably resulted in recurring questions over jurisdiction of criminal cases. How would “concurrent jurisdiction” work in practice? Who would prosecute Americans charged with crimes outside the leased areas? Race proved crucial in how these questions were answered. In fact, racial considerations determined whether a U.S. serviceman accused of a criminal act outside the leased areas would be tried by a military court or by a civilian one. As this chapter will demonstrate, American servicemen were regularly subject to Newfoundland law, whereas virtually no Americans accused of a serious crime ever submitted to the jurisdiction of colonial authorities in any of the other territories.5 The divergent result is highly significant as Newfoundland alone had an all-white judiciary and jury system. Debating Jurisdiction The U.S. government has claimed exclusive jurisdiction over its personnel stationed overseas throughout the twentieth century, no matter the crime. Archibald King, a colonel in the Judge Advocate General’s Office of the U.S. Army, for example, argued in the American Journal of International Law that this was implied by the host country’s invitation in the first place. It could not be otherwise, he argued. American jurisdiction over its personnel was necessary to maintain military discipline. Without jurisdiction, he warned, “those forces would cease to be an army and would become a mob.”6 King’s survey of the international law reveals numerous First World War precedents. Belgium and France, for example, had both recognized its jurisdiction over U.S. personnel.7 The British, by contrast, proved unwilling to cede as much. After two years of tense negotiation, Great Britain finally conceded that the United States had exclusive jurisdiction only “within the limits of the quarters occupied by them.”8 Crimes committed elsewhere were expected to be tried in British civilian courts. The United States, however, refused to accede to this narrow definition and the war ended before this diplomatic tussle could be resolved.

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The outbreak of the Second World War reignited the Anglo-American debate over jurisdiction. The Allied Forces Act of 1940 reasserted the British intention to limit the jurisdiction of visiting forces to “discipline and internal administration” of their own uniformed personnel. Several commonwealth countries passed similarly restrictive legislation. The fall of France in June 1940 and the attack on Pearl Harbor the following year, however, convinced many allied governments to make an exception for the Americans. The United Kingdom, Australia, New Zealand, Canada, and China each ceded its criminal jurisdiction over visiting American troops for the duration of the war.9 Yet this shift in policy did not extend to the British territories hosting ninety-nine-year leased U.S. bases. In this instance, the legal and racial context in which criminal jurisdiction was decided varied from one British colony to the next. The British Empire, as it existed in 1940, consisted of territories of varying status. Most areas in Africa, Asia, and the Caribbean, where white settlers constituted a small minority, were administered as Crown Colonies. This system was designed to prolong white rule over an overwhelmingly nonwhite populace. The Home Government, for example, controlled lawmaking and the appointment of executive officers.10 There were also a select number of colonies with representative institutions, with or without responsible government. These ranged from legislative assemblies with a limited veto power to a handful of colonies such as Bermuda and the Bahamas where it was the Crown that retained veto rights. In virtually all cases, the franchise was restricted to a small fraction of the population, mainly white, that owned property. Yet the power wielded by the Colonial Office did not extend to the virtually autonomous white dominions nominally advised by the Dominions Office after 1925.11 Newfoundland’s constitutional standing, however, was unclear as its dominion status was in suspension for much of the 1930s and 1940s. During this time Newfoundland was run by six commissioners, three British and three Newfoundlanders, appointed by Great Britain. These political differences among British territories in the Western Hemisphere mirrored fundamental economic and social differences. The race question in the British Caribbean was complicated in American eyes by the existence of a mulatto middle class that was “aggressively sensitive to any racial slight.”12 Racial distinctions were thus not seen in exclusively black or white terms. There were no Jim Crow laws in the Caribbean colonies. Instead, a more informal and subtle practice of race segregation and discrimination prevailed. According to one U.S.-based journalist: “Those who are almost white automatically belong to the upper class, but educated persons of any shade of complexion make their way in the professions, business, and politics, and are to a considerable extent accepted socially. Intermarriage is not uncommon, save between the extremes of light and dark.”13 The upper echelons of the colonial administration and judiciary were thus almost always white, as was the militia. However, there was no recognized caste system as nonwhites were found in virtually all professions and occupations.

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Bermuda and the Bahamas, by contrast, were among the most reactionary colonies in the British Empire. These were Jim Crow islands.14 Both governments, elected by a very restrictive franchise, were controlled by white oligarchies that exercised full legislative control.15 Segregation developed in these colonies mainly because of their dependence on the tourism trade with rich Americans. To make their stay as pleasant as possible, Bermuda and the Bahamas maintained a strict policy of racial segregation. Bermuda’s Hotel Keepers Protection Act of 1930 allowed proprietors to deny service. Segregation eventually extended to restaurants, cinemas, theaters, and virtually all other aspects of daily life.16 Newfoundland of course had no history of slavery. With the indigenous Beothuk gone, and only small pockets of Mi’kmaq left behind, the island’s population was overwhelmingly English or Irish in origin. Most rural communities outside of St. John’s were dependent on the fisheries. The collapse of world fish prices during the Great Depression therefore had a disastrous effect. Fishers went into debt to local merchants and the government struggled to support the expanding relief rolls.17 The financial situation of the dominion deteriorated to such an extent that the government could no longer afford to pay the interest on its debt. To prevent the dominion from defaulting, Great Britain agreed to financially support Newfoundland in exchange for the suspension of democratic rule. A six-member Commission of Government, appointed by Great Britain, thus ruled the country from 1934 until Newfoundland’s union with Canada in 1949.18 The coming of the Americans to these imperial outposts was met with mixed feelings. On the one hand, there was a great deal of excitement over the economic benefits of base employment. On the other hand, many in the Caribbean feared that the United States would introduce its Jim Crow laws into the region.19 This was not a remote possibility as the United States had already exported its racial order to the Panama Canal Zone.20 Because the U.S. Army and Navy were segregated, African Americans served in special units or were limited to specific occupations.21 African Americans in the U.S. Navy were initially confined to the lowest rungs of the ladder: mess servants and stewards. This changed in April 1942 when they were accepted into shore establishments, most being placed into special Seabee construction battalions.22 These discriminatory policies ensured that racial considerations often influenced the deployment of units. The resulting influx of thousands of white U.S. servicemen and construction workers created other problems. Harvey Neptune, who has recently written about race and sexuality in occupied Trinidad, noted that white local elites did not appreciate the color blindness of some newcomers who “boldly sported” and even married local women of color.23 These white servicemen saw Trinidad as an exotic sojourn; a place of adventure where ordinary social customs did not apply. These racial transgressions threatened to subvert Trinidad’s social order. Given the vastly different orders prevailing in the British Empire and the United States, it is no surprise that racial tensions escalated.

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Jury Selection and Article 4 of the Bases Agreement The racial question ensured that conflicting interpretations of Article 4 persisted. The United States continued to insist that it had the exclusive right to try all offenses carried out by its service personnel, no matter where they occurred.24 The British disagreed with this interpretation of Article 4, arguing instead that concurrent jurisdiction meant that either party could prosecute the American offender. The dispute dragged on until September 1942 when the United States finally conceded the point to the British.25 “What happens,” asked Kenneth O. Roberts-Wray, legal officer to the Colonial Office, “if an American soldier were accused of an offense ([e.g.,] murder) against a coloured man?”26 The problem was this: the British claim to concurrent jurisdiction was untenable in territories where civilian judges, magistrates and juries were nonwhite.27 President Franklin D. Roosevelt made this point perfectly clear during his December 1940 visit to the various proposed base sites in the Caribbean.28 The U.S. War Department also considered it undesirable to have American soldiers “tried by these colored jurors and jailed with the local criminal class. This effect will undoubtedly cause, over a period of time, a smoldering resentment which may eventually result in an unfavorable future attitude toward our Allies.”29 As one American journalist wrote, “many of the island [Jamaica] magistrates are Negroes, a fact which might be accepted calmly by a New Yorker but would anger men from the Southern states, especially in a case turning on a race quarrel.”30 For the good of the wartime alliance, the Americans seemed to argue, U.S. racist attitudes had to be accommodated. This proved to be no easy task. In British Guiana, Attorney General Pretheroe admitted that there was no use talking to the Americans about the exercise of jurisdiction by the colonial courts “for they would object very strongly to their people being tried by coloured Magistrates.”31 U.S. consul Robert C. Bates similarly reported that the base commanders would not accept civilian trials as “all local magistrates and a large majority of the jury panel are negroes.”32 Accordingly, he hoped that “some plan” would be worked out whereby military personnel charged with offenses outside the leased areas were turned over to U.S. authorities for courts martial. Racial prejudice among the American forces stationed in the colony was so bad that Pretheroe himself had to conduct all discussions with the visiting forces on legal matters, “as the Solicitor General is a coloured man.”33 Hubert Young, the governor of Trinidad, was the only senior British official in the region to insist on jurisdiction. In part, Young’s reaction can be explained by U.S. general Talbot’s refusal to recognize dual jurisdiction.34 The unilateral decision not to hand over any U.S. servicemen to Trinidadian authorities did not go over well on the island. Governor Young retaliated by refusing to allow U.S. officers the right of audience in civilian courts, a right expressly provided for in the Bases Agreement. Relations between the two men deteriorated to such an extent that both were transferred out. Officially, Young retired due to health reasons, but in reality the U.S. government had

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insisted on his sudden departure. The acquiescence of the Colonial Office to Young’s removal doomed any further efforts to bring American servicemen before colonial courts in the region. It was obvious to British officials that the Americans would never allow their white servicemen to be put on trial by nonwhites. In a key November 30, 1942 dispatch to the governors of the base colonies, the Colonial Office noted that as specific criminal cases arise, “it is on the cards that the Americans will want to know whether the offender would have a white, or predominantly white, jury.” Should the answer be no, “they might object to the appearance of U.S. nationals before a colored judge or magistrate.”35 This particular racial scenario was unavoidable in many colonies. In British Guiana, for example, all of the legal staff for the colonial government, except the attorney general and his deputy, were nonwhites. The situation in Antigua was similar in that both magistrates and the only judge were black.36 Although the capability and fair-mindedness of these officials were defended by their superiors, this support did not extend to the juries. Strangely enough, the perceived source of racial prejudice that animated these discussions in the Colonial Office did not originate with the Americans, but rather with West Indian juries. The jury system in the British Caribbean was dismissed by British officials as “lenient,” “unreliable,” and “scandalous.”37 Given these misgivings, the British worried that an American serviceman might be unjustly convicted of a crime he did not commit or, alternatively, receive a sentence out of all proportion to the crime. One high-ranking official warned in January 1943: “The consequence of a perverse verdict in say a murder trial might be very serious indeed.”38 A few months later, this same official, N.L. Mayle, repeated his warning: If we do get a perverse verdict against the accused given by a coloured jury in a case where we find it desirable to exercise our rights to concurrent jurisdiction, and the chances of this happening must be very high indeed, particularly in a case where the plaintiff or victim is a British coloured subject and the defendant or accused is a US white subject, it will at once expose the unsatisfactory system in the West Indies. This will give the Americans good grounds, which we could scarcely contend, for claiming exclusive jurisdiction.39

The British saw themselves as standing in a jurisdictional mine field. One false step, they believed, would demolish British claims to concurrent jurisdiction. This was a tricky business, agreed Sir William Battershill of the Colonial Office.40 The British considered their options in the fall of 1942. To avoid such an eventuality, some officials considered reforming or abolishing the jury system in the Caribbean region. Roberts-Wray, for example, argued that such an action was entirely consistent with accepted wisdom within the Colonial Office that “the methods of administering justice suitable for this country are not necessarily appropriate for Africa.”41 In fact, juries were already the exception rather than the rule in East Africa. Why then should the jury

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system be appropriate for the Caribbean or, even, he mused, be regarded as “everywhere inviolable” as it was simply a “casual outcome of English historical development.” Other officials agreed with Roberts-Wray’s assessment of the situation, but fretted about the political cost of any such reform. The riots of 1937 were fresh in everyone’s memory. It was also noted that the jury system had a long history in the region: “When the jury system commenced in the West Indies the jurors would have been white, and it is probably only within the last 50 years that they have become predominantly coloured.”42 To maintain its jurisdiction in criminal matters, the British seriously considered modifying the jury system to allow for white-only juries in the Caribbean or abolishing the jury system altogether; all on the pretext that the West Indian “natives” could not be trusted to try whites. In search of a possible model, the Colonial Office investigated how others went about doing precisely this. In the Bahamas, for example, the prosecution and the accused had the right to ask for a “special jury” which ensured a predominantly white jury if need be.43 Although no formal provision for all-white juries existed in Bermuda, they reportedly knew how to “arrange” for this “when expedient.”44 Through the power of challenge, for example, defense counsel could all but ensure mainly white juries. An informal system also existed in the United States. A trial of a white person by a white jury was assured in the Southern United States by the local sheriff through his jury selection.45 Even so, there was no specific provision in U.S. law for exclusively all-white juries. In the end, three possible methods of achieving predominantly white juries for trials involving U.S. servicemen were considered. The first option involved the power of peremptory challenge used in Bermuda and the United States. This approach had the advantage of being relatively discrete.46 However, the right of challenge as it existed in the Caribbean was limited and any such action would require additional legislation. Another option under consideration involved the discriminatory selection of juries as done in the Southern United States. This method was also attractive because it could be done quietly behind the scenes. However, there was no telling the race of prospective jurors in the Caribbean on the basis of their names alone. The final option under consideration involved the explicit provision for all-white juries in special cases. Once again, save for the Bahamas, there was no provision in existing law for special juries. Could the Caribbean colonies be convinced to pass such legislation? When asked, most governors were appalled by the mere suggestion. They also warned of dire political consequences if any attempt to tamper with jury selection was made. Sir Gordon Lethem, the governor of British Guiana, warned that such an action would “be bitterly resented by large masses of the population.”47 Trinidad’s governor also reported that it would “raise a storm of protest here.”48 The Jamaican governor went further. He wrote that: “Any objection to trial by such a jury or before a coloured judge or magistrate (and most of our magistrates are coloured), or even any enquiry on such subjects,

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would be met by a howl of execration and I hope that it will be found possible to dissuade the Americans from raising such matters. It would be quite impracticable to attempt to amend the law.”49 The message from the colonies was clear: any attempt to placate the Americans on this issue would come at a very steep political price. In the face of these warnings, the Colonial Office abandoned its efforts to institute racial discrimination in jury selection. Instead, it was informally agreed that it would be opportune to hand over American offenders to U.S. service courts. As Roberts-Wray noted, “we can for the time being avoid difficulties by agreeing, if necessary, to trial by US courts martial.”50 The colonial governments agreed, being “only too glad to see the offender tried by the U.S. Court-Martial.”51 As a result, the United States exercised exclusive jurisdiction over its Army and Navy personnel in Bermuda and the British Caribbean; with only the most minor cases such as traffic violations being tried in colonial courts. Newfoundland Exceptionalism The great exception to this accommodation was Newfoundland where a very different working relationship emerged. After the signing of the Bases Agreement, there remained a great deal of apprehension, especially in official circles in St. John’s, about jurisdictional issues. Commissioner of Justice and Defense, Lewis Edward Emerson, was largely responsible for Newfoundland’s determined defense of its jurisdiction over criminal matters. Born to a prominent Newfoundland family in 1890, Emerson served as a cabinet minister during the early 1930s before his appointment to the Commission of Government.52 Speaking to the country on radio on April 25, 1941, Emerson candidly admitted his own misgivings about the jurisdictional concessions made in London, but went on to say that the wartime emergency required sacrifice. He noted that the jurisdictional issue had given him the “gravest anxiety” and found the establishment of foreign courts in Newfoundland personally “repugnant.”53 Emerson then played his trump card: he had negotiated a side-agreement with the Americans during a short visit to Washington. At this meeting, the U.S. authorities agreed not to exercise their right to try British subjects in Newfoundland “except under exceptional circumstances.”54 Thus, no Newfoundlander would be tried by a military court during the war. This administrative arrangement, made to appease Newfoundland, appeared to hold true for the other base colonies as well. The matter of concurrent jurisdiction over American offenses committed outside the leased areas proved to be much more difficult to resolve. There emerged, for some time, a contest for jurisdiction in Newfoundland. Newfoundland even insisted on the trial of U.S. offenders after they had been tried in a military court. Emerson took serious exception to U.S. claims to exclusive jurisdiction: You claim that practically any offence committed by any of your military personnel anywhere in Newfoundland is an offence of a military nature if you

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choose to declare it so to be and by such unilateral action to oust the jurisdiction of our Police and our Courts. This contention is so contrary to all my ideas as to the meaning of the jurisdiction articles of the Agreement that I would be grateful if you would answer specifically the question as to whether you claim the exclusive right to decide whether your courts or the Newfoundland Courts are to try cases of the following nature: (1) An American soldier outside the leased area commits murder, manslaughter or other offences against the person of a Newfoundland citizen. (2) An American soldier outside the leased area commits an offence against municipal law, such as Highway Traffic Acts, Alcoholic Liquor Acts.55

To this strongly worded letter, Colonel Maurice D. Welty, commanding Newfoundland Base Command, eventually conceded that crimes of violence against Newfoundland persons or property, committed outside the leased areas, should “properly” be tried in civilian courts.56 To resolve the problem of double jeopardy, Emerson and Welty thus came to a compromise agreement.57 The Welty Agreement of October 1941 had two major features. First, minor violations such as public drunkenness and traffic violations occurring outside the leased areas, involving no damage to people or property, were to be handled by the U.S. authorities. Second, the U.S. agreed to hand over Americans charged with more serious offenses occurring outside the leased areas to the Newfoundland authorities. These administrative arrangements represented two major victories for Newfoundland diplomacy. In effect, the territory had won legal concessions denied every other base colony. Criminal Jurisdiction in Practice With the matter of concurrent jurisdiction resolved in theory, how did it work in practice? Were U.S. military courts more lenient than civilian ones? Was justice done, anyway? While it is difficult to judge the actual fairness of U.S. service courts, there is considerable evidence that the perception of bias was real in the British Caribbean. Social conflict between white servicemen and nonwhite British subjects ranged from random acts of violence to assaults on nonwhite police constables. These racial tensions can be grouped into four categories: undisciplined behavior, shooting of civilians, assaults on nonwhite police constables, and home invasions. Virtually all of these cases were tried by the U.S. Army or Navy. In Trinidad, only the most minor traffic violations of American servicemen were tried in civilian courts.58 The only case of a serviceman being tried by a colonial court in British Guiana turned out to be a mistake. Nobody knew at the time of the trial that he was a deserter from the U.S. Army.59 It should come as no surprise that the American invasion of the British Caribbean sparked a “great deal of friction” with local residents.60 American soldiers and sailors were reported to be accosting young women on city streets throughout the region. The discipline of U.S. troops, in fact, varied a great deal according to the quality of command. At its worst, undisciplined behavior resulted in random violence. In British Guiana, for example,

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machine guns were fired at fishing boats by U.S. planes passing overhead and a U.S. Navy gunboat reportedly shot up a river side village. The repeated shooting of British subjects caused many people in Trinidad to question their own government’s handling of the situation. Many lawyers, for example, felt that their government should have gone ahead and retried an American soldier charged with homicide outside the leased areas, who received four years from a military court for “involuntary manslaughter.”61 With each additional shooting, resentment grew. In one infamous case, two soldiers were acquitted of killing a black civilian in a dance hall. The soldiers, drunk and off-duty, had carried pistols concealed beneath their shirts. Privately, the attorney general reported that the men “probably” would have been convicted by a Trinidadian jury.62 Yet he declined to pursue a second trial due to the “prejudice in the States against trial of US Army personnel by coloured jury.” By 1942, many ordinary citizens in Trinidad had come to believe that a U.S. citizen, whether inside or outside the bases, could “commit any crime and be acquitted under US law.”63 The pro-American feeling that once prevailed in Trinidad in 1940 had receded.64 A similar story played out after a rash of shootings in Antigua. The shooting of a laborer in July 1941 by a U.S. Marine “inflamed relations” on the island, leading to “some acute complications on the question of jurisdiction.”65 Matters deteriorated further in November 1941 when an off-duty soldier shot and killed another Antiguan. The following month a night watchman was killed, shot four times at close range by an off-duty soldier.66 The Antiguan Magnet reported yet another shooting in early 1942: “This is the third instance of the life of a ‘jig’ (as a native is called by the Yankees) being snuffed out in the twinkle of an eye without the perpetrator being placed before a British Court of Justice. Is there justification for a man to be shot in high daylight because he runs away from questioning?”67 In each instance, the shooters were dealt with by U.S. military courts. To prevent further occurrences, the U.S. Army ended the practice of issuing arms to soldiers while off-duty and instructed officers to choose their best men for guard duty. The most incendiary incident occurred in St. Lucia where a boy was shot and killed by a U.S. Marine guard on August 20, 1943.68 Joseph Wilson, a young black employee at the base, entered the gate with his dog and went in the direction of the timekeepers shed. The guard, Private Cook, originally from South Carolina, called to him: “Whose dog is this?” The boy answered that it was his. “Get it off the base,” the military policeman ordered. Wilson turned and walked back out to the road and chased the dog away. But it followed him back through the gates. At this point, Private Cook warned that unless the dog was chased away he would shoot it. The boy retorted, “You need shooting more than the dog.” Cook walked up to Wilson and struck him. After an exchange of punches, Cook stepped back and shot Wilson in the abdomen. The boy died of the wound. Ultimately, a military court sentenced Cook to five years’ imprisonment. Racially motivated assaults on local police or militia men also occurred throughout the region. A November 1941 report from Governor Jardine of

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Antigua, for example, emphasized the “general disregard of law and order by the Americans, combined with their open threats of personal violence to the local police force.”69 One local constable underwent a “murderous assault,” but no charges were laid. Nonwhite members of the Bermuda police and the militia also faced verbal and physical assault.70 Racial discrimination was so entrenched at the Vieux Fort base in St. Lucia that it was necessary for the government to station its only white officer, the Superintendent of Police, in the immediate vicinity after U.S. officers refused to cooperate with black police constables of any rank.71 All of these incidents suggest that America’s white soldiers and sailors well understood that local police were powerless to stop them. So bad had this particular problem become that the U.S. Navy advised its personnel that assaults on local police “will be considered equally as serious as if committed against a shore patrol officer.”72 The archival record likewise reveals a number of cases of unsolicited entry by white servicemen into the private homes of middle-class blacks. In February 1944, for example, an uninvited white soldier entered the house of the colonial treasurer of British Guiana, a man of color, who was playing cards with three guests. The soldier sat himself down at the table and quickly became abusive, drawing a knife on the players.73 Similar incidents were reported across the region. To counter the growing local criticism, the United States opened some court martial proceedings to the public.74 In contrast to the racial tension prevailing in the Caribbean, the agreement to hand over offending soldiers and sailors to the U.S. authorities worked relatively smoothly in Bermuda.75 The U.S. Army and Navy did not object to “coloured police on traffic duty,” but a more meaningful role for the local police was simply out of the question.76 The only case of an American soldier being tried in a Bermuda court for a serious crime involved the assault and battery of a white British officer. The Americans reluctantly allowed this trial to take place out of political expediency: “It is probable that the Colonial authorities would have objected strenuously to a surrender of jurisdiction under the circumstances there prevailing.”77 The unlucky American serviceman was sentenced to five years imprisonment. Had his victim been black, as was usually the case, he would have faced military justice. That was certainly true of Private William Ferrell who raped a local mother of two, walking home along a public road. The Bermuda government hesitated in handing Ferrell over for trial by the U.S. authorities. According to the attorney general, This consideration was complicated in the present case by the nature of the alleged offence and by the fact that the complainant was a coloured woman. If the military court acquitted the accused then, whether their finding was right or wrong, very deep resentment might be aroused. It might be felt that the white soldier involved was being protected.78

In keeping with the pattern, Bermuda eventually agreed to a public court martial. Private Ferrell was sentenced to life imprisonment, which was later

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commuted to fifteen years in prison. Even when a soldier attempted to rape a policewoman in Bermuda, the colony relinquished its claim to jurisdiction.79 It should therefore come as no surprise that Bermuda Base Command (United States) reported that a very satisfactory situation prevailed in the colony. It should be noted, too, that relatively few of the thousands of American servicemen stationed in the colony got into trouble with the law. The number of trials of enlisted men for the six month period ending October 31, 1942 was as follows: nine faced a General Court Martial, sixty-two a Special Court Martial, and one-hundred-and-twelve a Summary Court Martial.80 The great majority of these cases involved drunkenness. Likewise, the Bermuda police filed crime reports concerning 213 army and 347 navy personnel from April 1, 1941 till February 28, 1944.81 Virtually all these cases were tried by U.S. courts martial. This informal arrangement only came under public scrutiny during a 1944 trial of a Bermudian for sodomy, to which a U.S. sailor was party. Chief Justice Sir Brooke Francis of the Bermuda Supreme Court inquired why the sailor was not also on trial, as it was standard practice to try both men together.82 He was told that the serviceman had already been tried and convicted in a U.S. court martial. The judge then asked on whose authority the sailor had been turned over to U.S. authorities. “Is there any law in this country that protects the American soldier from the penalties of the law of this country,” he asked? The deputy attorney general, who was prosecuting the case, had to admit that there was no such legislation. The handing over of American offenders was simply done. The chief justice therefore urged the government to put an end to this “most irregular state of affairs.” Bermuda passed the “United States Bases (Jurisdiction ETC Temporary Provisions) Act” soon thereafter. Alone among the British territories hosting ninety-nine-year leased bases, Newfoundland regularly tried and convicted U.S. soldiers and sailors for serious crimes. Frequent meetings between civilian and military officials enabled the parties to work out jurisdictional issues on a case-by-case basis.83 As per the Welty Agreement, approximately 75 percent of cases (involving minor infractions) were handed over to U.S. military police.84 In a few select cases, the Newfoundland authorities agreed to hand over cases of a more serious nature. The most serious cases, however, were tried in Newfoundland courts. Forty-three American soldiers and sailors were sent to H.M. Penitentiary between January 1941 and October 1945. These servicemen had been convicted of a variety of crimes including larceny (5), assault (5), indecent assault (4), malicious wounding (3), drunk and disorderly conduct (3), assaulting police (3), gross indecency (2), manslaughter, rape, attempted rape, carnal knowledge, and obstructing police.85 Six of these men received sentences of more than one year. In its end of war report, the Newfoundland government succinctly summarized past practice: “Unless the case were essentially a breach of military discipline, such requests [for jurisdiction] were invariably refused and the case went to trial before the civil

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court.”86 Hence, when a U.S. private was accused of rape in the garrison town of Stephenville, no effort was made by the U.S. Army to obtain jurisdiction. The man pleaded guilty and was sentenced to three years in H.M. Penitentiary in St. John’s.87 Given the many thousands of U.S. servicemen who were stationed on the island over the course of the war, forty-three cases do not represent a large number. But when compared to the dearth of cases found elsewhere, these forty-three cases loom large indeed. Despite this special arrangement, conflicts still arose in Newfoundland. Relations were particularly strained during the time that Major General Brant commanded Newfoundland Base Command (U.S. Army) during 1942–43. A September 1942 letter from Brant to U.S. consul general George D. Hopper outlined the extent of the problem in his eyes. Among the many issues raised, four stood out. First, Newfoundland’s insistence upon the trial of all offenses occurring outside the leased areas had resulted in the “violation of the English law of double jeopardy” as soldiers tried by General Court Martial were tried again. When confronted with this problem, Newfoundland Justice Department officials apparently “did not care what action the American military courts would take” and “intended to prosecute all offenses against its laws, committed by American soldiers outside the leased area which did not fall into the classification of minor offenses.” Second, Newfoundland insisted on punishing military policemen who discharged their weapons outside the leased areas. Third, the Newfoundland government wanted to punish military police who arrested civilians outside the leased areas. Fourth, the Newfoundland government refused to prosecute a local man arrested for sabotage. Major General Brant conclude that the time had come for the United States to take a “firm stand” concerning what he interpreted as its rights under the Bases Agreement.88 From the American perspective, the Welty Agreement had not produced the desired results. According to an August 1942 report by Consul General George D. Hopper, conflicts and differences of opinion still occurred because the traditional British concept of Magna Carta was “more deep-seated in Newfoundland than in the Mother Country simply because the people of this Island and their governing officials, being far removed from the dangers of war, have insisted on retaining all the rights and privileges of pre-war times.”89 In other words, Newfoundlanders’ attachment to their traditional rights and personal liberties was “deeply imbedded.” 90 For Hopper, the management of these jurisdictional disputes required a great deal of time, patience, personal contact and cooperation: “it has proven the truth of the statement heard by the writer upon his arrival in Newfoundland that ‘Newfoundlanders can be led but not pushed.’ ” If true, the reverse might be said of Americans. The Newfoundland perspective, quite naturally, differed. L.E. Emerson reported considerable difficulty with Brant, and Governor Humphrey Walwyn described him as an “impossible character . . . a better sportsman than soldier.” 91 Emerson lamented the string of unlawful arrests and shootings that occurred outside the leased areas. He also questioned U.S.

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actions on their bases. In one infamous episode, a base worker, Abraham LeDrew was arrested for soliciting contributions for the Newfoundland Patriotic Association while on the Argentia naval base. He was locked up without charges for four days and his quarters were searched.92 Two other cases proved particularly troublesome. On a sunny day in August 1942, two British sailors left their ship in St. John’s harbor on a small craft and sailed along the shore line to Torbay where they lunched at Liddy’s Hotel. While there, an American lorry arrived and the two men were ordered, under gun point, to accompany them back to base. The men were then questioned by an officer, fingerprinted, photographed, interrogated a second time, and only released two days later. For Sergeant Mahoney of the Newfoundland Constabulary, this incident represented a stark injustice: “at no time has a greater piece of injustice been done to a Britisher in a British Colony by Foreign Representatives. It is nothing short of riding roughshod over the authority of the Department of Justice.” 93 At a minimum, the detention represented a clear violation of the working agreements arrived at earlier in the war. The second case proved more serious. A Newfoundland national, Leslie Earle, was arrested in April 1942 for sabotage and held without trial in the guard house of Fort Pepperrell.94 It was alleged that Earle had cut a telephone cable being installed in a building under construction on the base. As agreed to in the Washington agreement, the United States asked that Earle be tried in a civilian court. Upon reviewing the case, however, the Department of Justice concluded that the Americans had no case against Earle. There was simply no evidence upon which to convict him. As a result, the Department of Justice declined to prosecute and suggested that Earle should either be released or that the United States act as private prosecutor in a Newfoundland court.95 To this news, Major General Brant threatened to proceed with a court martial. Under pressure from the Dominions Office in London, Emerson eventually agreed to prosecute however unsatisfactory the evidence.96 After three weeks of detention, Earle was handed over to Newfoundland and a judge quickly dismissed the case for want of evidence. Despite these irritants, the peculiar Newfoundland arrangement survived the tenure of General Brant and relations improved dramatically once a new commanding officer of Newfoundland Base Command was appointed in February 1943.97 Unfortunately, just when the U.S. Army began to hand over American servicemen charged with serious offenses on Newfoundland soil without a commotion, the U.S. Navy suddenly stopped doing so. This policy change came to light in the April 1943 case of Frank Wells, Jr., who drove on a public highway while intoxicated, colliding with a stationary truck, before pulling a knife and resisting arrest.98 When police arrived at the Argentia naval base to serve summons, the commandant refused to hand him over for trial until he received instructions from Washington. Unaware of the Welty Agreement, the secretary of the navy, Frank Knox, ordered that Wells stand trial in a Naval Court Martial.99

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L.E. Emerson was furious at this sudden setback. He asked the U.S. consul general if the Welty Agreement was null and void? This was, he added, “no borderline case, it is obviously one which is triable [sic] by the civil Courts. Two offences were committed on the public highway in breach of the public law of this country.” For Newfoundland, the Wells case represented a flagrant violation of the Bases Agreement, the Welty Agreement and a further exchange of letters that occurred between Hopper and Emerson earlier in 1943.100 George D. Hopper agreed. On June 3, he wrote to his superiors in Washington that the contents of Knox’s letter “caused me deep concern” as the U.S. Navy refused to hand Wells over for civil trial “for reasons that appeared utterly foreign to the issue, as well as untenable in law and equity.”101 He also advised the naval commandant of Argentia that the Welty Agreement had worked well during wartime, that it was adhered to by the U.S. Army in Newfoundland, and that the Navy could not simply ignore it. Moreover, it would invite Newfoundland retaliation. This discrepancy between the services could result in the “strange and embarrassing” situation where a drunken sailor was locked up in the local jail and a drunken soldier returned to barracks to face disciplinary action.102 The U.S. secretary of state concurred with Hopper’s opinion. Acting Secretary Edward R. Stettinius, Jr., wrote to Knox: “I regret that I am unable to concur with the opinion of the Navy Department that United States authorities have exclusive jurisdiction over all offenses committed by members of the United States forces on and off the leased base areas.” He cited a March 7, 1941 memorandum from President Roosevelt in which he agreed that such ordinary common law offenses should be tried in territorial courts. Predictably, the U.S. Navy did not accept this liberal interpretation. For the navy, Article 4 (5) of the Bases Agreement presumed a grant of exclusive jurisdiction.103 They also hoped that, now that the British had agreed to exclusive U.S. jurisdiction over its personnel stationed in Great Britain, that the British would finally recognize the US position vis-à-vis the base colonies. The British did no such thing. Regardless, Frank Knox repudiated the Welty Agreement, henceforth refusing to hand sailors over for trial. Thus, for the remainder of the war, the U.S. Army and Navy operated under two very different interpretations of Article 4 in Newfoundland.104 Despite the U.S. Navy’s decision to opt out of the Welty Agreement in 1943, concurrent jurisdiction was generally put into practice one way in Newfoundland and in another way everywhere else. The question is why? The attitude of the colonial government was most certainly a factor. With the exception of the governor of Trinidad, colonial administrators in the Caribbean and Bermuda were almost thankful to hand over American nationals for trial by the U.S. service courts. This represented a fiscal saving and a way to circumvent the potentially explosive matter of nonwhite judges and juries. Only Newfoundland insisted on its right to try American servicemen who committed offenses outside the leased areas. It was no coincidence that Newfoundland was also the only jurisdiction that had exclusively whites sitting on juries or on the judicial bench.

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Jurisdiction in the Postwar Era These vastly different practices made a postwar revision of Article 4 virtually impossible. Without bothering to consult Newfoundland, the British Colonial Office was able to negotiate changes to the Article that would have seen the United States give up its right to try British subjects in exchange for exclusive jurisdiction over its own personnel in wartime. This tentative agreement represented a step forward from past practice in the Caribbean and Bermuda, but not in Newfoundland. The negotiator, K.O. Roberts-Wray, was therefore surprised and dismayed when Newfoundland refused to endorse the agreement, placing the entire package in jeopardy. In a veiled reference to race, Newfoundland noted that there was no question of the competency of its courts.105 Roberts-Wray bitterly blamed Newfoundland’s obstinacy for destroying the hard fought agreement and he warned that its refusal might inspire the United States to alter existing administrative arrangements.106 No such formal action was taken. With the United States continuing to insist on trying its own service personnel, jurisdiction continued to be a source of friction in the immediate postwar era. Even in Newfoundland, where relations were historically the best, there was a great deal of public resentment over the U.S. insistence on jurisdiction over its own servicemen.107 One incident in particular threatened U.S. relations on the eve of Newfoundland becoming part of Canada. On July 19, 1948, early in the morning, a Newfoundland customs agent, accompanied by three members of the Newfoundland constabulary set up a check point on a lonely stretch of public highway in search of contraband. The constables were unarmed, as was the custom. For years, there had been a problem with duty-free goods from the U.S. naval base at Argentia being sold illegally in St. John’s. As done on previous occasions, the officials stopped and searched vehicles coming from Argentia. The morning was uneventful until a U.S. military vehicle driven by a Newfoundland civilian employee was stopped. Two parcels were held as contraband. Soon thereafter, the party was approached by a jeep at high speed, containing U.S. Army captain Emil Prenoveau and two military policemen. All three were armed with pistols. The young captain was in a state of high excitement, telling the customs officer, Michael Evans, that he was under arrest and, then, producing his pistol, he waved it at District Inspector Michael Cahill, threatening to shoot him if he drew nearer. Despite these threats, the Newfoundland officials refused to accompany Prenoveau and demanded that he have his orders clarified. Eventually the captain agreed, leaving the two military police behind. Upon his return, he told Evans not to stop any other U.S. military vehicles. To this parting shot, Evans replied that “he would if he saw fit and had no orders to the contrary.” Newfoundland issued a strong protest to the U.S. consul general in St. John’s immediately following the incident.108 Yet the story did not end there; Cahill and Evans sued Captain Prenoveau and his commanding general in separate civil actions. In the first, a jury

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found Prenoveau guilty of assaulting Cahill and fined him $100 in damages.109 Two days later, Brian Dunfield of the Supreme Court of Newfoundland heard the second case. With the above facts established, Dunfield turned to the point of law raised by the defense, namely that the members of the U.S. forces stationed on the island were not subject to the jurisdiction of Newfoundland. In search of legal precedent, Dunfield contacted the other British territories hosting ninety-nine-year leased bases. To his surprise, Dunfield discovered that virtually no American service personnel had ever submitted to the jurisdiction of colonial authorities in any other base colony.110 Despite the absence of precedent elsewhere, Dunfield could point to many Newfoundland examples and the text of the Bases Agreement itself, ruling that Newfoundland had legal jurisdiction in this case. He therefore concluded that U.S. servicemen had the legal status of friendly visitors or tourists outside the leased areas. Far from being a new departure, the Prenoveau ruling represented a continuation of the racial politics of criminal jurisdiction that prevailed during the Second World War. At first glance, the race issue does not appear to arise in the Prenoveau incident. After all, the various parties to the case—the agitated captain, the aggrieved customs agent, the unarmed constables, the Military Police, the general, the judge—were all white. The recent scholarship in “whiteness studies,” however, tells us that race is not something that only nonwhites possess. In fact, the racial solidarity of whites often influences the course of events.111 With Newfoundland’s entry into Canada in 1949, the Canadian government insisted that its Visiting Forces Act should now apply to Newfoundland.112 The law would further limit American jurisdiction over its own forces and end any claim to jurisdiction over Canadian citizens. Canada’s prime minister personally delivered this message to the U.S. president in a February 1949 meeting.113 The matter was subsequently taken up by the United States–Canada Permanent Joint Board of Defense. Canada-U.S. negotiations, however, were complicated by the fact that Great Britain was also trying to achieve revisions to the Bases Agreement for its Caribbean territories. Not surprisingly, U.S. diplomats and military officials resisted giving the Canadians more than they were willing to offer the British. In July and August 1950, Article 4 of the Bases Agreement was modified in the Caribbean by an exchange of notes between the United States and Great Britain. The British won modifications to Article 4 that gave them concurrent jurisdiction over most American offenses in peacetime in exchange for recognizing the U.S. claim to exclusive jurisdiction over its servicemen in times of war.114 That same year, Canada also won changes to Article 4. In keeping with past practice, these changes went beyond those agreed to in the Caribbean. Not only did the United States abandon its claim to exclusive jurisdiction over its troops outside the leased areas but it also allowed that Canadians would no longer be subject to U.S. trial for offenses occurring within the leased areas.

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Conclusion By way of conclusion, the value of cross-border comparative history is that it shifts the center to what would otherwise be relegated to the periphery or would escape notice altogether. In this instance, the decision to study how criminal jurisdiction played out in all of the British territories hosting U.S. leased bases brings the politics of race to the front and center. To placate the Americans, the British Colonial Office seriously considered instituting all-white juries or abolishing the jury system altogether. These efforts were abandoned only when it became clear that these proposals would be bitterly resented in the Caribbean. Ultimately, the colonial authorities in the Caribbean and Bermuda quietly handed over Americans charged with crimes occurring outside the leased areas to the U.S. military authorities for courts martial. In the Dominion of Newfoundland, by contrast, there was no racial divide. Judges, juries and police were all white. As a result, the United States reluctantly agreed to civilian court trials of their servicemen. To explain this divergence, it is useful to repeat Newfoundland commissioner of justice and defense L.E. Emerson’s appeal to racial solidarity. Any surrender of jurisdiction, he declared, “would have been resented by a people entirely English-speaking and untroubled by colour or racial difference.” Race thus cut both ways. It worked in favor of jurisdictional accommodation in Newfoundland and against any similar arrangement in Bermuda or in the Caribbean.

Chapter 8

From Slavery to Chaguaramas

From today, April 22, 1960, 11 am, we are a different people. We are not what we were on April 21. We are here today as West Indians—the new nation born out of the amalgam of disparate cultures and different racial stocks. Our demonstration today demonstrates national unity . . . . A demonstration such as this is not only a political leap forward. It is also a spiritual purification.1 Eric Williams, Chief Minister, Trinidad, April 22, 1960

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housands of people streamed into Woodford Square in the heart of Port of Spain on the morning of April 22, 1960 to hear a speech by Eric Williams, chief minister of Trinidad. This was not unusual. Ever since the People’s National Movement (PNM) swept to power in 1956, just eight months after its formation, thousands had regularly converged on the square to hear Williams and other PNM leaders speak on the issues of the day. These outdoor lectures were so popular and so frequent that they became known collectively as the “University of Woodford Square.” April 22, however, was not a typical day at the people’s university. It was to be the day that Williams proclaimed the independence of the British West Indies.2 Eric Williams casts this “historic national demonstration” as a turning point in Trinidad’s history. In keeping with this assessment, Williams’ speech that morning repeatedly invoked national rebirth. Words such as “cleansing,” “purification,” “dedication,” and “independence” punctuated his speech. At precisely eleven o’clock that morning, the flags of the West Indies and Trinidad were hoisted in the square. For Williams, this “simple but extraordinarily moving ceremony” represented the dawning of a new postcolonial era for the island. Williams ended the speech with the awkwardly worded slogan: “Long live self-governing Trinidad and Tobago! Long Live the Independent West Indies.” Two emergent nationalities, one West Indian and the other Trinidadian, were on display. In a departure from past gatherings, and in defiance of the governor’s private appeal to confine the demonstration to the square, those assembled that morning marched across Port of Spain to Queen’s Park Savannah where the British governor and the American consul general received delegations at

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their official residences.3 The “march in the rain” represents a mythic moment in Trinidad’s journey from colony to nation, one that would be invoked regularly in the decades to come.4 What made that rainy April morning live on in the collective imagination? At one level, April 22 marked the inauguration of the constitution of the West Indian Federation. At a more symbolic level, however, the march in the rain represented the climax of an aggressive campaign by the PNM government to have the entire North West Peninsula, or Chaguaramas, returned to it. The area had been leased to the United States as a naval base in 1940–41 for a period of 99-years as part of the Anglo-American destroyers-for-bases deal. The location of the U.S. Navy base proved controversial from the beginning as the North West Peninsula, a short distance from the city of Port of Spain, was the chief recreational and bathing area for urban residents. The residents of the peninsula, fishers and plantation workers mainly, were removed and access to the naval base was tightly controlled. At this stage, the word “Chaguaramas” did not hold any special significance. It was just the name of one of the many bays along the shoreline of the peninsula. Chaguaramas only came to describe the entire North West Peninsula once the United States decided to locate its Naval Operating Base on this bay and to call the entire leased area by this name. There matters stood until the emerging West Indian Federation voted in 1957 to locate its new capital at Chaguaramas. The refusal of the United States to consider ceding the North West Peninsula, or any part thereof, and Great Britain’s unwillingness to push the point, set the stage for an epic confrontation at the height of the cold war. Between 1957 and 1960, Eric Williams almost single-handedly transformed Chaguaramas into a hated symbol of British and American imperialism. As he indicated in one of his many speeches: “Chaguaramas concentrated in one issue all the evils of colonialism.”5 Williams successfully cast the campaign for the return of Chaguaramas as a freedom struggle and, hence, as part of the global anticolonial movement. Williams reminded those gathered in Woodford Square that rainy April morning that: For two years and eight months we have beaten our heads in vain against the forces and agents of colonialism—against the unswerving and often discourteous hostility of the British and American governments, on the one hand, and on the other, against the servile mentality and inferiority complex bred among some West Indians by centuries of colonial rule.6

Under intense pressure from Williams and the PNM, and unsure about its legal claim to the leased areas after West Indian independence, the U.S. government eventually relented. In December 1960, the United States agreed to withdraw from part of the peninsula immediately and from its entirety within twenty-five years. Its departure came sooner than expected as the naval base was evacuated (except for a radar site) in 1967. The story of the fight to have the North West Peninsula restored to Trinidad was thus

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presented, and remembered, as a national triumph. It also served as a creation myth for both Trinidad and the PNM.7 From this political conflict, Chaguaramas came to mean far more than a geographic place name. It became a place where the collective heritage of Trinidad was crystallized, marking the coming of age of the Trinidad nation. Pierre Nora calls these symbolic sites of national memory, “lieux de memoire,” and defines them as “any significant entity, whether material or non-material in nature, which by dint of human will or the work of time has become a symbolic element of the memorial heritage of any community.”8 Eric Williams and the PNM transformed Chaguaramas first into a symbol of British and American colonialism and then, in victory, into a mythic symbol of the heroic resistance of the Trinidadian people. Much as the storming of the Bastille in France is remembered as the symbolic toppling of the old royalist regime, the American citadel at Chaguaramas—the very symbol of colonialism—fell to the Trinidad people. “Chaguaramas” thus marks both the end of colonialism in Trinidad and the birth of a new nation. The American Invasion of Trinidad As the most southerly of the West Indian islands, Trinidad is geographically part of South America. Its strategic location and supply of oil made it one of the most important possessions of Great Britain in the Western Hemisphere during the Second World War. The island’s 450,000 wartime inhabitants lived on an island fifty miles wide and seventy miles long. Approximately 60 percent of the people were the Creole descendants of former slaves brought to work the colony’s sugar, cocoa, and coffee plantations. Another 34 percent were the descendants of East Indian indentured servants who were brought to Trinidad in the aftermath of emancipation. The white population of 10,000, however, controlled the great bulk of the colony’s land and wealth and dominated the colony’s politics.9 Trinidad’s small white elite kept largely to itself. Although there were no “Jim Crow” segregation laws on the books, a more subtle form of race segregation prevailed. Whites lived in their own neighborhoods and socialized in their own “members only” clubs. Nonwhites need not apply. Eric Williams, one of the great anticolonial scholars and politicians of the post war era, was the son of a Trinidad post office official. His father was denied promotion, Williams recalled, because he lacked the necessary “social qualifications.” These qualifications were “colour, money, and education, in that order of importance. My father lacked all three.”10 Despite this racial and class inheritance, meager in the eyes of the white elite, Williams excelled at school and was awarded a scholarship to study history at Oxford University. He defended his doctoral thesis in 1938 and returned to the Americas to teach at Howard University in the United States. Several books followed, including the Negro in the Caribbean in 1942 and Capitalism and Slavery two years later. Williams subsequently left the United States to work for the

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Caribbean Commission as a researcher until he publicly broke with it in 1955, shortly before launching the PNM.11 Eric Williams held a “staunchly long-term perspective on the human condition,” even for a historian.12 Seymour Drescher has noted that Capitalism and Slavery, which explored the economic motives behind slavery, represented Williams’s “personal declaration of independence from imperial tradition.”13 It was during his April 1944 lecture on capitalism and slavery at the Trinidad Public Library that Williams first made reference to the “pent-up” national pride of Trinidadians. The nationalism of Williams’ audience was “caught up,” he recalled, in his provocative phrase: “Two hundred years ago we were sugar plantations. Today we are naval bases.”14 Williams, even then, drew an explicit connection between colonialism and the bases. The specific locations of these bases were left to “common agreement.”15 To that end, the president of the United States, Franklin D. Roosevelt, named a Board of Experts to survey suitable base locations.16 Chaired by Admiral J.W. Greenslade, the board visited each territory during the months of September and October 1940. When the U.S. warship, the St. Louis, carrying the board members arrived in Trinidad on October 10, Greenslade communicated to the governor that the United States required a fleet anchorage of twelve square miles, an adjacent fleet base with dry docks for battleships, fleet supply depot, seaplane base, a landing field, as well as areas for the defense of the island.17 Six days later, having toured the island, Greenslade recommended a U.S. Army base in the centre of the island, an auxiliary landing field, and a naval operating base on the Northwest Peninsula.18 The chain of new bases being built would be anchored by Newfoundland in the North, Bermuda in the middle and Trinidad in the South. Sir Hubert Winthrop Young, governor of Trinidad, forcefully objected to the proposed location of the naval base and urged the United States to build a combined army-navy base in the Caroni Swamp to the south of the capital city.19 The North West Peninsula could not be leased, he argued, because of its elite cottages and prized bathing beaches—the only ones within easy reach of the popular districts of Port of Spain. The loss of these “healthgiving amenities”, enjoyed by residents for generations, was a matter of public health.20 To this argument, the British government could not help but admit that Trinidad’s grievance was real. To be sure, Greenslade’s “somewhat brusque and tactless” manner did not help matters.21 The United States government refused to consider Young’s appeal, dismissing the alternative site as too costly to reclaim. The “protracted and somewhat acrimonious negotiations” between the U.S. and Governor Young delayed base construction.22 The entire peninsula, including the shoreline of Chaguaramas Bay, one of four bays on the Gulf of Paria-side of the peninsula, was eventually leased to the United States for a period of ninety-nine years. The United States

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promised to provide limited access to the Macqueripe Club, a (white) member’s only club, and to summer cottages “down the islands” on the far side of the naval base.23 While the governor had relented under American and British pressure, relations were poisoned. In 1942, Governor Young was given twenty-four hours notice by London to publicly announce his resignation due to “ill health.”24 His removal improved relations, but the commandeering of bathing beeches proved to be a continuing source of friction on the island. Not so the removal of an estimated 2,000 residents to make way for the bases. Several villages including Nicholas and Hart’s Cut on the North West Peninsula and Maturita in the Cumuto area ceased to exist. In all, 1,000 inhabitants were removed from the North West Peninsula and a comparable number were moved to make way for the Army base in the interior. Many former residents of the North West Peninsula were resettled at Carenage, located a short distance from the naval base on the main road to Port of Spain.25 The white editors of the Trinidad Guardian dismissively described those being displaced as “fisherfolk, charcoal burners and peasant gardeners.”26 Unlike Newfoundland and Bermuda, where similar uprooting of people garnered considerable public attention and government intervention, the issue never took hold in Trinidad. The attention of the colony’s political leaders was fixed instead on how the naval base would disturb an important “holiday ground” for “the people of this island.”27 E.V. Wharton, a member of the Legislative Council, was one of the many who emphasized this point: It centres around the islands and beaches at the north-western end of the Gulf of Paria, where houses cluster in every cove. Bathing, boating, yachting and fishing parties find freedom and relaxation here. Walking and other educational outings are available under the pleasantest conditions. It is fair to estimate the “holiday resident” population of the houses at an average of ten persons per house, over a total period of approximately six months in the year. Tenancies range from two weeks to a month, but week-end lettings or owner occupation of houses extend almost throughout the year.28

Given this seasonal recreational use, rhetorically, at least, the North West Peninsula belonged to “the people” as a whole. Hence, long before Chaguaramas became synonymous with Trinidadian resistance to colonialism and, ultimately, with national self-determination, it already held special collective significance. The class and racial biases of this special claim, however, should not be overlooked. With the building of the naval base, the peninsula became home to thousands of U.S. service personnel. The number of navy personnel stationed in Trinidad probably peaked in May 1944 at 7,699 and tapered off to 2,619 by June 1945. Each of the bays of the North West Peninsula had a specialized function, as did the Tucker Valley that cuts across the mountainous interior—Chaguaramas was home to the Naval Operating Base for which

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the entire leased area took its name. By 1945, the U.S. Navy had invested almost 46 million dollars into its Trinidad base facilities.29 The base also brought well-paying jobs to thousands of Trinidadians, but it was accompanied by racial and gender tensions.30 The lyrics of Attila, a popular calypso singer in Trinidad, provide a taste of this contest: Long ago I was a real Trinidadian I used to boast of my native land But now to go near Cumuto I am afraid And at Tetron Bay I’m forbidden to bathe So don’t bother with me and nationality For that all abound in hypocrisy.31

At war’s end, the Trinidad bases went into decline. The United States deactivated its Cumuto air base in 1950, razing the buildings before conditionally returning the land to Trinidad (but the forty-eight hour “recapture” clause ensured that no other development could occur). For its part, the U.S. Navy placed the Chaguaramas base on “partial maintenance.”32 The declining activity at the naval base did not go unnoticed in Trinidad on the eve of decolonization. Eric Williams and Chaguaramas British commitment to maintaining its overseas colonies had been shaken by the social upheavals that swept Africa and the Caribbean during the 1930s and 1940s; by American criticism of British colonialism during the Second World War; and by the financial crisis that followed.33 In the aftermath of the war, the British government agreed to a process that would grant dominion status to nonwhite colonies for the first time. There was tremendous excitement in the Caribbean for the idea of a federation of the West Indies that would politically unite the English-speaking peoples. The British Caribbean colonies of Jamaica, Trinidad, Barbados, the Windward Islands, and the Leeward Islands were already united by their shared history of sugar, slavery, British colonialism and American bases. The rapidly growing nationalist movement in the West Indies coalesced in Trinidad with the formation of the Creole-dominated PNM.34 The PNM, which swept to power in 1956, promised to forge national unity from cultural diversity.35 In 1959, the population of Trinidad reached 815,000 people of which 470,000 were Creoles and 300,000 were of East Indian descent.36 Trinidad’s sizeable East Indian community, however, feared losing what little political influence that it had. As a result, it largely opposed the PNM and the federation idea.37 Delegates from across the region gathered to discuss federating in 1947, 1949, and 1951, but failed to agree on the site of the political capital.38 In 1956, ten British territories agreed to federate only after they decided to ask the British secretary of state for the Colonies to appoint a commission to

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investigate and recommend a site for the new capital. The British approved the new Federation and it came into being January 3, 1958.39 Should the capital be located in one of the three large member islands (Jamaica, Trinidad, Barbados) or on one of the small islands? Should it be located in a large cosmopolitan city like Port of Spain or Kingston or in a rural area? The British-appointed commission sought to answer these questions during a sixty-six day tour of the Caribbean region. The commissioners first concluded that the future capital should be near, but not in, a major city. This decision effectively limited the race to the three large islands. Despite persistent concerns about racial discrimination in Barbados, which alone had a sizeable white population, the commission recommended it as the future site of the West Indian capital. It rejected Jamaica due to its distance from the rest of the federated islands. Trinidad, in turn, was rejected on the basis of its alleged political “instability” and the “low standard accepted in its public life.” Moreover, the commissioners claimed that Trinidad’s large East Indian population had “ideals and loyalties differing from those to be found elsewhere in the Federation.”40 Predictably, these harsh statements were received with indignation in Trinidad and across the Caribbean. The West Indian reaction was immediate and overwhelming. There was widespread condemnation of the report and much of the region now rallied behind Trinidad’s bid for the capital—a development that was aided by the election of Eric Williams and the PNM on an anticorruption and Caribbean nationalist platform. On February 11, 1957, the Standing Federation Committee (SFC) voted eleven to five on the second ballot in favor of Trinidad. A subcommittee was then appointed to work with the government of Trinidad and Tobago to recommend the specific location of the capital.41 That subcommittee recommended Chaguaramas even though it was under ninety-nine-year lease to the United States as a naval base. Having agreed that it was “by far the most suitable site” in Trinidad, the SFC asked Great Britain to negotiate the return of the area.42 The stage was now set for a confrontation between America’s informal empire and West Indian nationalism. It is sometimes forgotten that the impetus behind the request for the return of Chaguaramas originated with Michael Manley of Jamaica and Bentley Adams of Barbados—the two senior statesmen of West Indian nationalism. It did not originate with Eric Williams or the PNM who pledged in the 1956 election to honor Trinidad’s international obligations with particular reference to the 1940 destroyers-for-bases deal.43 Trinidad’s delegation thus abstained from voting on the issue at the outset. In July 1957, representatives of the United States and Great Britain met in London with a West Indian delegation to discuss the future of the Chaguaramas naval base. The West Indian case, presented by Manley, fell on deaf ears. The United States asserted that it was unable to comply with the request for the release of the naval base for reasons of military necessity. The official British stance of neutrality, as historian Colin Palmer has noted, was

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disingenuous. Behind the scenes, the British were advising the Americans to emphasize the security value of Chaguaramas.44 The United States offered, instead, to cede the already abandoned army base at Cumuto. It was at this critical juncture that Eric Williams, attending as an observer, shed his neutrality on the issue and wholeheartedly endorsed the West Indian proposal. Williams indicated that he had unearthed “historical files” that proved that “powerful opposition” existed in wartime Trinidad to the American occupation of Chaguaramas. Alas, Williams told the delegates, Great Britain had “bowed” to U.S. pressure.45 Williams’ intervention, according to historian Cary Fraser, “shifted the entire negotiations” by redefining the issue as “one central to West Indian and Trinidadian nationalism.”46 With no compromise possible, the conference agreed to appoint a Chaguaramas Joint Commission to further investigate the matter. Eric Williams’ intervention generated minimal opposition back in Trinidad. Public opinion strongly supported Williams, especially after the United States announced that it would build a new missile-tracking station despite Trinidad’s protests. This move, coming as it did before the newly appointed Chaguaramas Joint Commission could report back, signaled that the United States had no intention of abandoning the site. In the end, the Anglo-American members of the joint commission found that all five of the other naval base sites proposed were unsuitable. The partition of the North West Peninsula was likewise deemed impractical from a base security standpoint. The inflexibility of the U.S. position, Cary Fraser suggests, was rooted in the calculation that the British government had not strongly pushed the matter. With these findings, the United States and Great Britain regarded the Chaguaramas issue as closed. Not so the West Indies or Trinidad. Eric Williams repudiated the joint statement and called on the two powers to meet for a second conference to discuss the matter. In an attempt to placate Williams, and thereby defuse the issue, the United States and Great Britain pledged that they would reopen the matter in ten years’ time. To the consternation of Williams, the newly elected prime minister of the West Indies, Bentley Adams, endorsed the idea. With his labor government in danger of falling over the Chaguaramas issue, Adams clearly hoped to defuse the explosive issue. The British therefore asked the U.S. government to agree to a review in ten years’ time. While it agreed, and Adams publicly accepted that assurance, Williams did not.47 In the months that followed, Eric Williams and the PNM launched a relentless public campaign demanding the return of Chaguaramas. The second annual convention of the PNM endorsed a review of the Leased Bases Agreement and called for the transfer of the Navy Base to another location.48 By his own admission, Williams used “every possible artifice to keep the Chaguaramas issue alive and before the public.”49 According to his cabinet colleague, Dr. Winston Mahabir, Williams’ campaign against the Americans was “a clever assortment of historical analysis, ruthless onand-off stage manipulation, and outpouring of verbal vitriol.”50 At every opportunity, Williams equated the U.S. naval base with colonialism. He

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likewise told the Legislative Council in June 1958 that the United States was “in occupation of extensive areas of Trinidad. Its legal title is based on leases which in one respect or another appear to be unsatisfactory.”51 One week to the next, Williams hammered away at the United States and its claim to the leased areas in Trinidad. “We never consented to be sold for scrap,” he wrote in his memoirs.52 The Chaguaramas campaign represented a sustained public confrontation with the United States. As someone who was fully conversant with the long history of the West Indies, Williams declared that he could “assure you that I know of no more sordid chapter than the chapter on Chaguaramas.”53 Opposition members soon complained that Williams talked “Chaguaramas morning, Chaguaramas noon, Chaguaramas night.”54 Eric Williams’ anticolonial critique of the U.S. bases is encapsulated in his famous “From Slavery to Chaguaramas” speech delivered to a mass meeting held in Arima on July 17, 1959. For Williams, it was “one of my best and most effective speeches, rooted in the history of the West Indies.”55 In the speech, Williams traced the historical antecedents to the Chaguaramas conflict—finding that its roots went all the way back to Columbus’ discovery of the Americas in 1492.56 First the Pope divided the Americas between the Spanish and the Portuguese and then the Europeans forcibly brought over millions of African slaves to work the sugar plantations of the Caribbean. Four centuries of European imperial rivalry over the region culminated, for Williams, in the 1941 Leased Bases Agreement: “We in the West Indies begin our association with modern world economy as naval and military bases, attacked, defended, captured, retaken, repossessed, etc., traded, donated, any word you like, the result is the same. That is the beginning of our connection with the modern world and international economy. The bases were organized to protect the trade between the West Indies and those metropolitan powers.”57 He saw little to differentiate Spanish policy in the region two hundred years earlier and the contemporary attitudes of the United States. In almost Churchillian language, Williams ended the speech with a promise: “Mark my words, the Trinidad flag will fly over Chaguaramas before many of us are many days older (thunderous applause).”58 National independence seemed to ride on the answer to the Chaguaramas question. To counter the U.S. claim that the naval base was still needed, Williams made the case that only a small fraction of the leased area was actually in use and that it was often being used for frivolous reasons: “I have heard people in the United States of America refer to Chaguaramas Base as the ‘Honeymoon Base.’ ”59 It was equipped with a beach club, a golf course, and a bingo hall. He especially resented the U.S. Navy’s 2,000-acre citrus plantation that sold fruit in contravention of the Leased Bases Agreement. The U.S. Consul General’s claim that the plantation was, in fact, a “military facility” only fueled the political fire. The navy reportedly raised pigs and exported coconuts as well. Eric Williams heaped scorn on the commercial activities underway at the “so-called military base.”60 If nothing else, the line of argument served to undermine U.S. claims that the naval base was needed.

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The United States was growing concerned. In January 1958, Senator George D. Aiken reported to the Senate Committee on Foreign Relations that the question of using Chaguaramas as a capital site for the Federation has become a West Indian political football. Sir Grantley Adams, one of the elder statesmen of the West Indies has come out with the slogan “Chaguaramas or nothing.” Aiken noted that West Indian determination to have the area returned has only grown stronger: “the more the idea was talked about the more dogmatic the discussion became.”61 Despite the warning, the pattern of escalating demands continued for two more years. In March 1959, the outgoing U.S. consul general in Trinidad, Walter W. Grebaugh, wrote a scathing final report full of invective against Williams. He urged his superiors in the State Department not to reopen the 1941 Leased Bases Agreement.62 In fact, the consul general insisted that Williams “is not going to become more tractable on the subject of Chaguaramas and, in fact, they probably already know that he intends to carry forward his campaign against the United States for the release of the Chaguaramas base to the bitter end.”63 For him, Williams was an “extremist” who was incapable of compromising on the issue. Nor was it possible to by-pass Williams and work directly with the West Indian federal government. Prime Minister Adams and other federal politicians were “still floating in the roses and clouds of puerile nationhood dreaming that all manner of things are theirs for the mere asking.”64 Regardless of what the United States did, Grebaugh continued, it would continue to have “serious trouble” with Eric Williams. He was a figure who could “cause us immense harm if allowed to continue his political career and become Prime Minister of the Federation.”65 He pleaded with his superiors to act in a “positive, resolute manner” to effect Williams’ “downfall in all ways possible.”66 If left unchecked, he concluded, Williams will “ultimately give free rein to his anti-American, anti-white feelings and will lean more and more left. He will bring neutralism and a desire to form part of a third force in the world arena to the Caribbean. The United States can ill-afford to leave a man of this stamp in power at the very portals of the United States.”67 Not everyone agreed with the departing consul general. That same month, an intelligence report filed from Trinidad indicated that the threat to the stability of U.S. military facilities in the Caribbean was minimal and that “timely” concessions from the United States would “probably ease developing nationalist pressures and thus permit these facilities to continue operation.”68 In any event, the economic dependence of the region on the United States ensured a certain amount of “leverage” on the base issue. The author noted that the “focal point” of the controversy was Chaguaramas and that over the past year, the facility had become a symbol of colonialism in the region. As for Williams, the report’s author indicated that he was supported by a “highly disciplined party” and that his Chaguaramas campaign enjoyed widespread public support. Even the most pro-U.S. elements in the region now believed the Leased Bases Agreement should be reopened.69 For all these reasons, the report’s author urged a negotiated solution: “If the issue is kept alive until

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the federation becomes fully self-governing, it will intensify racial and anticolonial feelings, attract the support of many West Indians who are presently uncommitted, and place the United States in a politically difficult, if legally correct, position.” There were thus two, competing, readings of the unfolding situation in Trinidad amongst the American diplomats stationed there. The United States attempted to placate Williams by allowing the new consul general in Port of Spain to meet regularly with him to resolve “day-to-day” issues. Eight meetings were held between May and July 1959 to little avail. At these meetings, Williams complained about a number of irritants, including duty-free goods making their way off-base. At one point, he threatened to erect a customs control gate, but feared “that these will be a source of continual friction since objection will be taken by U.S. personnel to having their cars, etc., stopped and searched by Negroes and I tremble to contemplate possibilities where U.S. citizens are armed—and particularly while under the influence of liquor.”70 These talks were broken off by Trinidad in July 1959. If the diplomatic records of the United States are to be believed, the July 3 speech delivered by Williams in Woodford Square represented the low point in Trinidadian-U.S. relations. It was this controversial speech that raised the specter of radiation contamination from the new U.S. missile-tracking station. The speech so infuriated U.S. diplomat Robert McGregor that he arranged to meet with Williams to discuss the speech. When the diplomat asked what he should report to his superiors, Williams “laughingly replied that he thought the speech spoke for itself, that at least the listeners in Woodford Square seemed to understand what he was talking about.”71 The Consul General than asked if the July 3 speech was designed to discredit the United States. Williams was “immediately aroused” (McGregor’s words) by this comment and stated that he was “merely reporting to the people a part of the ‘disgraceful things’ that had been going on for the last several years.” This antagonist line of questioning pushed Williams to threaten to close Piarco Airport to U.S. military jets: “The trouble with you Americans is that you are treating us as South Sea Islanders.”72 Williams then observed that he had stopped a planned PNM march on the naval base slated for July 4. To this, McGregor expressed his hope that Williams would continue to act “as a restraint on such moves,” adding that “the US is not intimidated by threats of this kind.” Williams responded in kind, suggesting that the next time he could “absent himself” from the Island “by prearrangement.” His departure, he said, “would be the signal for his followers to mount demonstrations and thus free him from taking blame.”73 Williams then charged the United States with acting like a colonial power. An angry McGregor retorted: “in our view the UK was still sovereign in The West Indies.”74 The U.S. government had had enough. Within a month, the U.S. State Department directed its embassy in London to tell the British that it was increasingly concerned by recent developments in Trinidad. In its opinion, Eric Williams had “gone to great

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lengths to discredit the United States and arouse fear.”75 The State Department also noted that Williams had privately threatened to cut off electricity to the base; prevent U.S. planes from landing at Piarco; and call “spontaneous demonstrations” against the Chaguaramas base that he might be “unable to control.” The State Department concluded by saying, “[w]e are concerned at the possibility, if the Premier does not restrain himself, that the situation may get out of hand in Trinidad and unfortunate incidents occur.”76 The deteriorating political situation in Trinidad was the subject of debate back in the United States. A powerful group of senior U.S. officials from the Navy, Air Force, CIA, and State Department met in Washington on August 10 to discuss how best to respond to Williams’ escalating rhetoric. Two proposals were under consideration: a tripartite conference to renegotiate the Bases Agreement or bilateral talks between the new U.S. consul general in Port of Spain, Edwin G. Moline, and Eric Williams. Admiral Wellings, the hawk of the group, urged his colleagues to oppose both proposals. He noted that the 1941 agreement was valid, that the 1958 Joint Commission agreed that the partition of Chaguaramas was not feasible, and that Federal prime minister Bentley Adams “through the UK, got us to say that we would review our need for the Chaguaramas Base in say 10 years.”77 Any attempt to reopen the agreement, he cautioned, would be seen as a victory for Williams. He had already heard warnings from “our friends” in the West Indian federal government (naming Adams among others), about doing anything that might bolster Williams’ political position. The U.S. Navy preferred to take its chances with the Federation once it achieved full Dominion status. Next, John Irwin, the assistant secretary of defense, stated that the departments of State and Defense wanted to accomplish the same thing. The point of contention was over tactics. Irwin asserted that it would be impossible not to talk about Chaguaramas at a conference. The problem with tripartite talks, he told the others, was the presence of Dr. Williams: “If his views about the Chaguaramas problem are opposed at a conference, his prestige in the area will go up. If, on the other hand, we should agree to accede to his demands, his prestige will also go up. Either course would build him up. In Defense’s opinion, he has no official right to be talked to about our base rights.”78 Therefore, in the view of the Defense Department, “a conference would merely accentuate our problem.” At this point, the meeting turned to the covert efforts being undertaken by the CIA to undermine Eric Williams. Robert Murphy, the undersecretary of state for political affairs in the State Department, reminded those present that “we have agreed to certain measures to undermine Dr. Williams’ position.” He also noted that the United States was actively “building up an effective opposition group against Williams.” It might be useful, he reasoned, to arrange some informal meetings between Williams and Moline “in order to provide a ‘useful cover’ while we are engaged in the process of attempting to bring down Williams.”79 Murphy then asked Richard Bissell of the CIA

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about the likely success of “the program to neutralize Dr. Williams.” To this, Bissell replied that it had a “fair chance” to succeed. What this operation precisely entailed was unfortunately not included in the minutes of the meeting. The covert operation, however, was having difficulty getting underway due to the “reluctance” of the British to play ball. To this, Ivan White, acting assistant secretary of state for Europe, indicated that the State Department now favored reopening the 1941 Leased Bases Agreement for two reasons. First, the department’s legal counsel advised that the Anglo-American Bases Agreement would not be legally binding on the West Indies Federation once it received full independence. Great Britain had already indicated that it would not require the West Indies to accept the Bases Agreement as a condition of it being granted self-government. The second factor that needed to be taken into account, White continued, was the widespread support that Williams had on this issue in “all responsible quarters” in Trinidad. 80 Unless defused soon, the “budding nationalism” in the region posed a serious threat to U.S. interests. If no talks occurred, White predicted that many of the political moderates in the West Indies would be “driven to the extremist Williams’ camp. We may, in fact, be faced with a sort of guerilla warfare.” The United States therefore stood a better chance of retaining the bases if it sat down and negotiated a new deal now with the present federal West Indian leadership. Representatives of Trinidad’s opposition parties were meanwhile telling U.S. diplomats not to compromise with Eric Williams. On July 10, two senior opposition leaders—Ashford Sinanen, leader of the federal opposition, and Simboonath Capildeo, a Democratic Labour Party (DLP) member of the Trinidad Legislative Council—met with the U.S. consul general. The memorandum of conversation produced by the U.S. consul general indicates that Capildeo opened the meeting “by stating that it was his hope that the United States would stand firm on Chaguaramas.”81 The two politicians warned that Williams and his leading advisors were “negro racists” who had “brought race warfare to Trinidad.”82 They alleged that East Indians were “being openly threatened all over Trinidad.” For good measure, they also insisted that Williams was unduly influenced by the “communist” C.L.R. James. The two opposition leaders supported the ten year moratorium on base talks and Capildeo even favored moving the proposed capital site to another location in Trinidad. On August 28, Simboonath Capildeo arranged to meet with three senior members of the State Department in Washington, DC. Once again, he claimed that the PNM was infiltrated by communists. He alleged that C.L.R. James was a “Trotskyite Communist” who used his editorship of the Nation and his close relationship to Eric Williams to organize “Communist cells” in Trinidad.83 Capildeo again raised the “possibility of bloodshed” in Trinidad, but this time directed this time against U.S. nationals. When he warned that the “molestation” of Americans had increased, he was asked to cite specific examples. Unable to do so, Capildeo could only say that

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Americans were increasingly subjected to “shoving and verbal abuse” in stores and on the streets of Port of Spain. Yet Capildeo painted a surprisingly positive portrait of the man he loathed. There was no evidence that Eric Williams profited financially from his office or that he was doing a poor job as first minister: “He has tightened up the civil service, raised taxes (which took considerable courage), and has embarked on a number of worthwhile and popular projects.”84 Eric Williams had “no personal weaknesses” that “can be exploited,” he lamented. The DLP would be hard pressed to win the next election. Because of population growth, another six seats were to be added in areas that heavily favored the PNM. Capildeo asked the United States to pressure the British to force Williams to call an election before these electoral changes could be effected. “This would be very helpful,” he said. The British Colonial Office, to its credit, would “hardly listen to the DLP since it insisted on dealing with the duly elected government.”85 The State Department had no such qualms, but it was not enthusiastic about the “unsavory characters” in the Trinidad opposition.86 What of Chaguaramas? At the Washington meeting, Capildeo told the Americans that Williams had a “very strong issue. He is playing it in terms of anticolonialism and anti-whiteism. It has very wide appeal in Trinidad. Getting the Americans out of Chaguaramas is somehow symbolic of getting back at all the white domination and oppression to which Trinidadians have been subjected.”87 When asked if the issue would “die with him” should Williams be “removed” from the scene, Capildeo replied in the negative. Another PNM leader would keep the base issue alive. Only a DLP victory, he emphasized, would resolve the issue. He indicated that his party was committed to keeping the U.S. Navy in Chaguaramas. If elected, he would ask only for a symbolic “strip” of Chaguaramas to satisfy public opinion. Fearing he had gone too far, Williams suddenly changed tactics in August 1959, adopting a more “reasonable” tone. In the months that followed, the U.S. consul general made frequent reference to this moderation. The new tone was also seen in the pages of the Nation.88 While it is difficult to know why Williams changed tactics, what is known is that he had a long private audience with the new U.S. consul general, Edwin G. Moline, on August 12. At this meeting, Williams proposed the key ingredients of a resolution to the political crisis.89 Moline left the meeting convinced that a deal was possible. He wrote his superiors to this effect, adding that Williams had “backed off” his “most extreme demands.” In plain language, Moline asserted that it was time for the State Department to reclaim its responsibility for the conduct of foreign relations from the navy. If Admiral Wellings continued to have his way, he said, these relations will “go from bad to worse in this region if we cannot find an honorable answer to the Chaguaramas problem.” 90 The month of August proved to be a turning point. Armed with Moline’s conviction that a resolution was possible, and Williams’ willingness to moderate his rhetoric, the same senior Washington officials from the Departments of Defense and State met again on September 21. Ivan White insisted that the base agreement be reopened. To this,

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Admiral Wellings expressed his strong opposition to the idea. He noted that the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Department of Defense, and Department of State had all agreed to oppose the British request for a new conference. Great Britain was notified of this decision earlier in August. The admiral reiterated his belief that the “real problem” was Eric Williams and that a deal on the West Indian bases would only “build up Williams’ political strength and degrade the US position in the Caribbean.” 91 Hence, the navy continued to insist that no compromise was possible as long as Eric Williams remained in power. Other international observers disagreed. Oliver Woods, the colonial editor of the London Times, met Williams twice in mid-November 1959. He told the U.S. consul general that the issues surrounding the naval base were “negotiable” and that Williams’ ultimate demands would not be extreme.92 Woods noted that the recurring points raised by Williams were: “participation,” “duration,” “review,” “partition,” “Piarco,” and “other.” Participation was said to be a matter of West Indian “identification with the base.” This could comprise the joint use of the base by the West Indian Regiment and the flying of national flags alongside the Stars and Stripes. Duration, Woods said, involved shortening the existing ninety-nine-year period.93 As Williams noted at a October 17, 1959 press conference, the ninety-nine-year lease “has always been a euphemism for a perpetual holding.” 94 He also wanted periodic review of the new Bases Agreement and the partition of the Chaguaramas base. The continued friction with U.S. military usage of Piarco airport would also have to be resolved. Finally, Woods indicated that Williams was “supremely confident of the strength of his party’s position” and of his own position as leader. Woods’ summation echoed Edwin G. Moline’s own thoughts after his August meeting with Williams. In the end, Williams’ “reasonableness” convinced the State Department to alter course and support rapprochement. The U.S. government eventually agreed. On December 10, 1959, Bentley Adams, the prime minister of the West Indies, announced that there would be tripartite (U.S.-UK-WI) base talks in the new year. The announcement was welcomed by the Trinidad Guardian.95 There was a great deal of uncertainty, however, about how Williams would respond. Would he allow the federal government to represent Trinidad’s interests in this matter? The transcript of Williams’ first press conference after the announcement reveals that he neither endorsed nor condemned the proposal. “Let them go ahead,” he said.96 On December 17, a U.S. diplomat met with John Mordecai, the secretary of the West Indian Federation. Although Adams had still not spoken directly with Williams, and there was a great deal of anxiety about how he might respond to the tripartite idea, Mordecai indicated that a unified West Indian position was being developed.97 The evolution of the “bases problem,” and its possible resolution, was outlined in a dispatch from Moline to his superiors on Christmas Day, 1959. He observed that the controversy that originated in a 1957 request to have the West Indian capital situated at Chaguaramas had burgeoned into a wider

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desire for a new bases agreement. “Nationalism in the West Indies wishes its recognition,” Moline wrote.98 He noted that West Indian nationalists, and “all politicians are nationalists in the West Indies,” cannot accept a deal that is inferior to ones recently negotiated in the Philippines and Morocco. “The demand for revision is undeniable,” he wrote. The hardest nut to crack, he predicted, would be the West Indian desire to situate their new federal capital at Chaguaramas. Regardless, Moline believed that “an opportunity now exists” to resolve the conflict while guaranteeing continued usage of the naval base. “In brutal terms,” he concluded, “what is involved would be buying the right to stay.” The symbolic importance of Chaguaramas was unmistakable; it was now at the centre of Trinidad’s anticolonial struggle for independence. Williams told delegates attending the PNM’s fourth annual convention in March 1960 that the war for independence was on: The opposing divisions are at the crossroads—one leading back to the Colonial dirt track, the other leading on to Independence Highway. The army of reaction has military power on its side—jet planes, radiation, cruisers, nuclear missile-launching submarines. Its base is Chaguaramas. The army of progress has political power on its side—mass meetings, popular alertness, development programme, constitutional ambitions. Its base is the University of Woodford Square. It is a war of weapons against principles, of military discipline against political discipline, of armies and navies versus people—or, more simply, of might versus right.99

Much was at stake. Williams expanded on the meaning of Chaguaramas in an article published in the Nation: Chaguaramas means the reversal of a deal imposed on us by colonialism. Chaguaramas means reversion of our soil and resources. Chaguaramas means vindication of our governmental rights and prerogatives. Chaguaramas means independence in the sphere of foreign policy. Chaguaramas means capital before base. Chaguaramas represents for us an acid choice between the alternatives—an independent nation with a will of its own or a banana republic the satellite of a foreign power. Chaguaramas and Independence go hand in hand; the road to independence leads through Chaguaramas.100

In effect, Trinidad would never be truly independent as long as it accepted the leased bases. By then, Eric Williams had succeeded in transforming the base into the “principal head of the hydra of colonialism.”101 To press his case that Trinidad should be at the negotiating table, Eric Williams organized the “march in the rain” on April 22, 1960. In the days leading up to the march, the U.S. Consul General warned of possible violence. To avoid such an eventuality, the PNM leadership decided to confine the march to Port of Spain itself—there would be no march to the U.S. naval base at Chaguaramas. In his choice of speakers for the rally, however, Williams signaled the resolve of the PNM and sent a defiant message to the United

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States. The estimated 10,000 people in the Square that morning heard from such left-wingers as C.L.R. James, Lennox Pierre as well as Janet Jagen from neighboring British Guiana (Guyana).102 In a dramatic moment, Williams burnt a copy of the 1941 Leased Bases Agreement. Faced with ample evidence that Williams had public opinion behind him, key elements within the U.S. Navy now concluded that negotiations were needed. The commanding officer of the U.S. naval station at Chaguaramas, E.A. Luehman, for example, advised the chief of naval operations in June 1960 that the United States should consider significant revision of the agreement. For Luehman, the existence of the naval base “on their soil is a symbol of the failure to gain full independence as early as it was expected, and thus continued increasingly strong anti-base statements and actions can be expected until the basic problem of revision is settled.”103 The visit of British colonial secretary Iain MacLeod to the West Indies in June 1960 broke the impasse. Six months after agreeing to tripartite talks, Williams had convinced the two superpowers that Trinidad had to be at the table. It would be a three-tracked process: Anglo-American talks in London (with Trinidad and West Indian observers), West Indian-American talks (with British and Trinidad observers) and Trinidadian-American talks in Tobago (with West Indian and British observers).104 With this, the diplomatic situation improved immediately and by August 1960: “[s]o relatively relaxed are West Indians on this subject now that one does not even hear the question ‘when will the talks start?’ ” The Agreement and Its Implementation Given the rocky road in U.S.-Trinidad relations up to this point, the negotiation of the Defense Areas Agreement (DAA) went surprisingly smoothly. The first stage in London came to a successful conclusion on November 9, 1960 with a U.S. commitment to give up leased areas that were no longer in use. The Tobago meeting, held November 28–December 9, 1960, dealt with the clause-by-clause renegotiation of the Bases Agreement. Not surprisingly, the future of Chaguaramas dominated the round of negotiations between the United States and Trinidad. The breakthrough came during informal talks on the night of November 29. The next day Trinidad and Tobago agreed to the continued use of Chaguaramas by the U.S. Navy, subject to mutual agreement over duration and the phased release of the North West Peninsula.105 With the Chaguaramas base issue now conditionally resolved, the issue of economic aid or rent dominated discussion. In the end, the United States agreed to fund a number of specific projects including the port, the road between Port of Spain and Chaguaramas, the railway, and a new college. Each side thought that it had a deal that it could live with. The DAA represented a personal victory for Eric Williams and West Indian nationalism. In exchange for West Indian recognition of the naval base, the United States agreed to abandon 21,000 acres of leased land in

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Trinidad, including parts of the North West Peninsula and all leased areas located elsewhere on the island. The United States also agreed to the joint use of the base by the West Indian Regiment, vocational training of Trinidad residents at the navy’s machine shops, and a new timetable for American withdrawal from Chaguaramas: joint reviews in 1968 and in 1973, and a complete withdrawal promised by 1977. Article 3 of the agreement also ensured that the flags of the United States, the West Indian Federation and the unit territory (Trinidad) would fly side by side. A summary of the conclusions of the West Indian base talks was presented to Trinidad’s Legislative Council on December 16, 1960 and it was quickly endorsed.106 The signing of the new deal occurred on February 10, 1961 to great fanfare. There were a series of ceremonies held in Trinidad that day. The first occurred in the morning at the governor general’s house. It began with a military parade featuring personnel of the Royal Navy, U.S. Navy and Marines, the West Indian Regiment, and the Trinidad Police in Queen’s Park Savannah. Children received the day off school and spectators reportedly stood on cars and trucks to see the troops form and parade.107 Following the parade, the various delegations and ninety guests moved inside the House for the signing of documents with Lord Hailes, the governor general of the West Indies, presiding. The representatives of the West Indies were seated along the table to his right and representatives of the United States were seated along the table to his left. Seated at one end of the table was a representative of the United Kingdom and at the other was Sir Solomon Hochoy, the Governor of Trinidad and Tobago. The signatories to the new bases agreement included Sir Grantley Adams (prime minister of the West Indies), the heads of government of all participating territories (Antigua, Barbados, Jamaica, St. Lucia, and Trinidad) and five U.S. officials. Grantley Adams told those gathered that the agreement demonstrated the “capacity of West Indian Governments and peoples . . . to work out and establish ground for the successful solution of our problems.” Eric Williams likewise expressed his happiness with the agreement: “Those who came somewhat against our will 20 years ago are here with us today as honored guests, good neighbors, and respected friends.”108 With these signatures, the 1941 Leased Bases Agreement was no more. It had been supplanted by a new deal negotiated by West Indians and Trinidadians themselves. Later that afternoon, a crowd of four thousand responded to the U.S. Navy’s “open home” invitation for a flag-raising ceremony on the athletic grounds of the Chaguaramas naval base. The small details of the flag raising ceremony came directly from Washington. A February 6 telegram to the American consul general stated that on the day of signing that the U.S. flag was not to be flown in the ceremony area prior to the hoisting of the flags.109 The four flags (all approximately the same size) hoisted during the ceremony were to be in the following order: those of the United Kingdom, United States, West Indies, and Trinidad and Tobago with the Union Jack in the position of honor to the right. On subsequent days, the British flag would not be flown and the U.S. flag would be given the place of honor. At the

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conclusion of the flag-raising ceremony, 550 invited guests moved to a reception at the Macqueripe Officers Club.110 The PNM organ, the Nation, celebrated the occasion: “We go to Chaguaramas today. We go to celebrate the signing of an agreement to which we have subscribed our names. In a larger sense, we go to celebrate, not an international agreement, but the formal recognition of our human personality for which we have struggled for the past two years . . . . The 1961 Agreement has set the stage for an era of cooperation . . . . From Chaguaramas we look forward. We welcome on our soil the representatives of the great American nation here with our consent. An American flag which flies side by side with ours is no affront to our national dignity but a symbol of our cooperation.”111 Just as Williams had predicted in Arima in July 1959, it did not take many more days before the island’s flag flew over Chaguaramas. Consul General Edwin G. Moline, who had proven instrumental in getting the agreement, reported that there was no adverse reaction in Trinidad. The Guardian trumpeted the deal as a “new era of close and amicable relations with our great neighbor to the north.” Despite its own opposition to the PNM, the Guardian’s editors praised the government: “The present achievement, of which the Trinidad Government and its Premier were largely the architects, will be given its proper place in West Indian history and the history of the Federation.” For Edwin Moline, a “new era” in U.S.-WI relations had dawned and the “gloomy days” of 1958–59 now seemed a distant memory: “the major question now is how long can this last?”112 It did not last long. The seeds for a renewed conflict were sown by the front page headline of the Guardian on December 10, 1960 that erroneously claimed the United States had agreed to 80–100 million dollars in economic aid at the Tobago Meeting. When it was later announced that the sums promised were much more modest, there was widespread disappointment. The opposition DLP had a field day. On June 11, 1961, Rudranath Capildeo, leader of the DLP, strongly criticized Williams for not getting more economic aid from the United States. A DLP policy statement adopted in September 1961 called for a further reduction in the size of the naval base.113 While Williams emerged victorious in the December 4, 1961 election, the DLP continued to call the Tobago agreement a “gross betrayal of the people of Trinidad and the West Indies and a complete sellout to the Americans.”114 Naturally, Williams felt vulnerable to opposition criticism. The renewed controversy originated in the amount of economic aid the United States had agreed to in Tobago. Eric Williams believed that the agreement had called for full funding of the projects listed in the agreement. He insisted that he had not agreed to 60 percent funding of a college, but to a college; not to 60 percent of a road, but to a road. He therefore felt betrayed by the refusal of the United States to fund the entire cost of the projects. Relations between the two countries deteriorated during August and September 1961. On October 2, Williams threatened to repudiate the Chaguaramas deal and to “march on the base.”115 He even told the commanding officer of the naval base that the DAA died with the West

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Indies Federation (which dissolved in 1961 after a referendum in Jamaica led to that island’s independence). Then two days after his 1961 reelection, Williams told those gathered at Woodford Square that: “The Chaguaramas agreement is dead. It should be consigned to the flames. It died with the Federal Government, which signed it.”116 On March 9, 1962, Governor Hochoy called on the Consul General to express his “worry over Williams’ state of mind” and fretted that Williams might flirt with Fidel Castro and communism. Startled by this warning, the United States sent acting deputy assistant secretary of state William C. Burdett, to meet with Williams in early April. This visit resulted in a new financial offer of 30 million dollars (U.S.) that allowed Williams to save face. The impasse was finally broken. In June, Trinidad agreed to assume all treaty rights and obligations as a condition of its independence. The United States completed its evacuation of Chaguaramas in 1967, twelve years before it was required to do so. Now What? After Reversion The march in the rain has lived on in Trinidad’s collective memory. Joel Primus, writing in the Trinidad Guardian in July 2004, explained that “Though Federation failed, the history books will show that on April 22, 1960, the PNM marched for Chaguaramas at Woodford Square, out of which came a declaration of Caribbean independence and denunciation of the 1941 Leased Bases Agreement.”117 Rueben Wilkes, who took part in the march, similarly recalled that “I am one of the thousands of humble citizens who marched in the rain in 1960 to reclaim Chaguaramas for the people of this nation. Having succeeded in our objective, Chaguaramas was thereafter considered to be the peoples’ place.”118 Trinidadians were proud of their victory. But once Chaguaramas “belonged” again to the people of Trinidad, Eric Williams found himself caught in a dilemma—what to do with it now that the Americans had been vanquished? The problem was compounded by the collapse of the West Indian Federation in 1961. Without a Federation, there was no longer a need for a West Indian capital. Indeed, historian Cary Fraser has convincingly shown that the historic 1961 Defense Areas Agreement had come at the cost of a breakdown of the relationship between the nationalist leaders of the West Indies. The fight for Chaguaramas thus contributed to the dissolution of the federal state. When Trinidad and Tobago received its independence on August 31, 1962, it was bittersweet. According to Williams, “[t]here was no struggle for independence by individual islands. All the talk had been about ‘being a West Indian.’ ”119 The return of Chaguaramas nevertheless brought with it high expectations about its future redevelopment for the benefit of the new nation. How to develop a sacred site of national birth and identity? History and nationalism cast a long shadow as Eric Williams and his successors attempted to develop the area “for the people” to little or no avail. Development proposals that would have turned the North west Peninsula into a tourist playground were

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rejected on the grounds that it belonged to all Trinidadians. Instead, the area stood virtually empty for twenty-five years and base infrastructure crumbled and rusted. All that remained of the Federal ideal were a few old street signs in the area. The Trinidad and Tobago Regiment made part of the former naval base its own, as did the Coast Guard. The government established the Chaguaramas Development Authority (CDA) in 1972 to manage the rest. Three major plans were produced for the area between 1968 and 1975. Each one focused on a strategy of self-contained mixed-use development.120 The Town and Country Planning Act (1974), for example, created Chaguaramas National Park that encompassed 80 percent of former base lands. This was no ecological park, but rather a tool for state sponsored development.121 When the CDA held public hearings into the plan, it heard a great deal of public anger about the proposed complex of marinas, resort hotels, and recreational facilities that would cater to American tourists.122 Many Trinidadians saw it as giving back something that had been hard won. For Dr. Martin Sampath, Chaguaramas belonged to the “whole community” and must therefore “be accessible to all.”123 The plan was never implemented. The same fate awaited subsequent plans: “Thus began the inertia of non-development and gradual dilapidation.”124 Despite these failures, there was a great reluctance on the part of the PNM to let the private sector develop Chaguaramas.125 The former naval base was literally left to waste.126 Many of the buildings built by the Americans had been stripped by looters or vandalized and the fruit on the citrus plantation in the Tucker Valley was left to rot: “Whatever the Americans left was first pillaged, then wrecked and then abandoned. An entire U.S. Hospital at Macqueripe went that way.”127 Even the famed Macqueripe Club was bulldozed and left in a heap.128 By the 1980s, the former base was sprinkled with a few large buildings “on what appeared to be a vast expanse of waste land.”129 In time, journalists and newspaper editors drew a connection between the deteriorating state of former base lands and the disillusionment some felt about Trinidad’s postcolonial experience. Writing in 1986, Alwin Chow wrote that “Chaguaramas is imbued with the philosophy of political independence and nationalism in such a manner as to severely constipate its development.”130 For another journalist, it had become a “a region in limbo. It remains like a lingering query—an unanswered question about national sovereignty, national development and national identity.”131 Why had so much potential, so much promise gone unfulfilled? Once Chaguaramas was “vested with the heavy emotional and political assets” and “highly charged political sentiments,” it did not take long for these to transform into a belief that it belonged to every citizen “individually, jointly and severally.”132 The idea became an “unshakeable truth” which could not be questioned. “It is a kind of Declaration of Independence,” journalist Alwin Chow concluded.133 The failure of the PNM government to effectively redevelop the area “for the people” thus tarnished the image of this mythic site of national memory. There was a festering sentiment in

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Trinidad that all that Williams “marched for” was being squandered. For government critics, Chaugaramas became a “monument” to PNM “mismanagement and maladministration.”134 For them, Chaguaramas now represented “an index” to Trinidad’s “national malaise.”135 In effect, Chaguaramas had become something of a “paradise lost.”136 With so much political capital invested in “Chaguaramas,” the PNM sought to bolster the area’s association with the nation.137 A series of PNM conferences were held at the Chaguaramas convention center and, in an echo of the past, the PNM hosted the foundation of the Caribbean Economic Community (or Caricom) there in October 1972. Beginning in 1988, the CDA organized an annual cultural festival to “commemorate the country’s independence.”138 Chagfest is held from late August to early September each year, thereby encompassing Trinidad’s Independence Day. Naturally, these festivals have featured steel band orchestras, calypsonians and Trinidad folk art.139 In January 1994, the CDA also sponsored a “Chag Competition” in the Kids Guardian newspaper. Primary school children were asked what years the flags of Trinidad and Tobago, the United Kingdom, the United States, and the West Indies Federation were raised in Chaguaramas; what the word “Chaguaramas” meant; and in what year Chaguaramas became a naval base.140 Through these political and commemorative efforts, Chaguaramas remained a national treasure, albeit a tarnished one. Development of the Chagauaramas waterfront as a light industrial complex came in the 1990s.141 Though ultimately successful in revitalizing part of the former base, politics and nationalism remained a factor. In 1991, Rueben Wilkes wondered if the CDA intended that the waterfront will “no longer be accessible to the general public, that they are to be taken away from ‘the people’ to be controlled by private investors including foreigners? Is the Chaguaramas Development Agency bent on returning Chaguaramas to what it was in the 1950s?”142 A public controversy erupted four years later when Sun Island Cruises announced that its Pier One club would be reopened as an “exclusive members and guests club”143 Because Chaguaramas remained, in the words of one journalist, a “potent symbol of nationalism and independence, inextricably linked to the history and development of the PNM,” all hell broke loose.144 Even thirty years after independence, members-only clubs continued to be associated with the racial exclusion of the colonial era. Prime Minister Patrick Manning (PNM) announced that his government would introduce legislation to ensure that no private clubs would be established on crown lands. He went on to say that “Chaguaramas belongs to the people of Trinidad and Tobago.” Simon Lee, writing in the Guardian, responded that if Chaguaramas was to be developed “it seems that fundamentals like discrimination and lease agreements must first be properly addressed. Otherwise the vision of the 22 April 1960’s march to Chaguaramas may remain somewhere over the rainbow.”145 Simon Lee was not the only Trinidad journalist to question the legacy of Eric Williams’ fight for Chaguaramas. Eden Shand recalled that the PNM was the “most wonderful phenomenon” in 1956. He wrote that “[n]o one

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can deny the national euphoria of those heady day. No one can deny that great was the PNM. No one can now deny that today they are in shambles.”146 For Shand, there was a “festering sentiment” in Trinidad that all that Williams “marched for is being given back to prominent people from the ‘parasitic oligarchy’ who have the bucks to purchase leases?”147 The thirtyyear period after reversion thus saw new questions raised about the meaning of Chaguaramas to Trinidad politics, history, and national identity. The forgotten people in all of this were the 300 families who were evicted from the North West Peninsula to make way for the naval base in 1941–42. Decades later, a group of former residents of Mt. Pleasant Village in the Tucker Valley, led by O’Brian Glourde, called on the government for the return of their land.148 In both real and symbolic terms, the “back-toChaguaramas movement” began in the late 1950s when Eric Williams rejected the legitimacy of the original leases. The words and actions of the first minister raised expectations among former residents that they would get their land back. As one journalist reasoned, “if the Government did not accept the ‘capitulation’ as binding, then, surely, it could not accept the forced seizure of the lands as binding either.”149 But this hope was shortlived as the PNM was committed to maintaining public ownership of the former base lands. Once this intention was made clear with the creation of the CDA, some former residents formed the Back to Chag Action Committee (BTCAC) in 1973. When group members appealed to the government, they were now told that the land had been legally taken after all. In July 1975, BTCAC submitted a petition signed by 4,300 to the governor general calling for a public inquiry.150 Small demonstrations were also organized.151 In media reports of BTCAC activities in 1984, O’Brien Glourde, aged seventy-four, and Isaac Cedeno, also aged seventy-four, were quoted extensively.152 They told how five villages were “bulldozed out of existence” and how each of their families were given only a “meager plot of land in exchange for their birthright.”153 Glaude noted how his ancestral land had been divided amongst former slaves after emancipation. The two men yearned to return even though there was little remaining of the old Tucker Valley. All that was left standing in the 1980s was the primary school, the headmasters quarters, and the church.154 The desire to return to Chaguaramas was rekindled in the 1990s when a new generation of family members took up the cause. This time the families turned to the courts. Rosie Blanchfield, Desmond Heroux, and others launched legal action in 1992, claiming that the Trinidad government was trespassing on their land. They lost in court and again on appeal. Not giving up, the families appealed the decisions to the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council in London, England—the highest court in the Commonwealth.155 A 1993 letter to the editor from the Tardieu family communicates some of the emotional attachment felt by these families. The family told how they were given only five days notice to evacuate the properties that they had occupied since 1846. It was during the struggle for independence, they recalled, that Eric Williams, “Father of this Nation,”

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stated that “[t]he Road to Independence lies through Chaguaramas.” In 1960, the family noted, “Dr. Williams’ words fuelled support from displaced land owners, together with members of the nation, for the famous March in the rain to Chaguaramas.”156 Yet Williams did nothing. The Tardieu family closed by saying, “by right, this land is ours. As citizens of this nation, we deserve to be duly compensated for the grave injustice done to our families.” The interests of the former inhabitants of the North West Peninsula again took a back seat to the interest of the collective, however defined. Conclusion Before the Second World War, the North West Peninsula was valued for its bathing beaches and summer cottages. In effect, it was already viewed as a place that belonged not to its year round residents but to the island’s people as a whole. That is why the coming of the Americans raised the ire of so many Trinidadians, especially among the white elite. The destroyers-for-bases deal also rankled as it treated the colonies as commodities that could be bought, sold or in this case traded. The 1957 decision to locate the future capital of the West Indies at Chaguaramas reignited the bases controversy in Trinidad. Even though the base was already on “partial maintenance” status, the United States refused to cede any of the leased area. From there, the Chaguaramas controversy escalated into a demand for the revision of the entire Leased Bases Agreement and for the closure of U.S. bases. American concessions became a key condition for West Indian independence. For Eric Williams, Chaguaramas symbolized centuries of colonial oppression and racism. In victory, however, the symbolic meaning of Chaguaramas underwent revision. The failure of the PNM government to effectively redevelop the area “for the people” tarnished the image of this mythic site of national memory. Chaguaramas serves as the founding myth of Trinidad and Tobago. It conjures up memories of the glory days of the PNM and the idealism and euphoria that accompanied decolonization. It is also a legitimating symbol. Trinidadians were not simply granted independence from United Kingdom, they fought for and won independence from both United Kingdom and from the United States. Just as the storming of the Bastille has marked the birth of the French Republic, Eric Williams’ campaign to have Chaguaramas returned—epitomized by the famous “march in the rain”—represents the moment of national birth in Trinidad. Chaguaramas had become sacred ground.

Conclusion Stepping Stones to New Empires

“The world had narrowed,” wrote journalist Hanson W. Baldwin in

January 1940. “Airplanes span oceans and continents, leap the seas that once were barriers.”1 The stunning fall of France four months later seemed to confirm this new reality; Americans no long felt secure behind their oceanic moats. Writing again in the New York Times, Baldwin observed that the airplane had “modified not only tactics but strategy; in the past the British Empire knit by sea power, was built upon the stepping stones of fuelling stations and naval bases; in the future the world struggle may be for air bases, stepping stones to new empires.”2 Sea power was by no means obsolete, but it had been eclipsed by the power of the skies. The “plane can span narrow seas, halve space and massacre time.”3 Given this compression of time and space, the destroyers-for-bases deal was hailed as an epochal and far-reaching development in the United States. President Franklin D. Roosevelt even compared the leased bases to the Louisiana Purchase, so great were their perceived strategic value in September 1940. Yet the ninety-nine-year leased bases played only a small role in subsequent fighting. The unfolding events largely passed them by, making them little more than “waiting and watching zones” by the time that Eleanor Roosevelt toured the Caribbean bases in 1944. Without the prospect of action, she reported, U.S. servicemen in the region were left exhausted and weary.4 One by one the Caribbean seaplane bases commissioned in such haste in 1941 were reduced to “care and maintenance” status.5 In light of these events, the importance of the deal has usually been located in Anglo-American diplomacy. Even though the diplomatic importance of the destroyers-for-bases deal is widely acknowledged as the first tangible sign of an emerging AngloAmerican alliance in the Second World War, few have bothered to inquire into the effects of the bases on Britain’s far-flung colonial outposts. Those that have done so have focused on one colony, or one region, in isolation. As a result, the scholarship on the British Caribbean has failed to engage with the scholarship on Bermuda or Newfoundland and vice versa. This book has sought to examine the effects of the U.S. bases and how they compared. In

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doing so, we find that many of the base colonies underwent sudden transformative change; whereas the changes triggered by these “friendly invasions” were more localized in other places. The intimate relationship between race and class was apparent everywhere, but particularly so in Bermuda and the British Caribbean. Not surprisingly, the United States sought to defuse any controversy surrounding wage rates and race discrimination. President Roosevelt thus ordered that the armed services deployed in the region respect prevailing practice. There would be no “whites only” and “coloreds only” signage in the leased areas. Any goodwill generated by the policy of racial accommodation was undermined, however, by the everyday racism of U.S. servicemen and construction workers. This racism sometimes manifested itself in the shooting of civilians by armed guards or off-duty servicemen. More often it took the form of racial namecalling, drunken brawls, and home invasions. As a result, the race issue was never defused entirely. Yet the decision to station only white soldiers and sailors in the base colonies (with the notable exception of an African American army unit deployed in Trinidad) and not to employ African American workers in building the bases served to further disarm the race issue. Workers could be segregated on the basis of nationality rather than race—though the line drawn between the two was virtually the same. “American” workers received higher wages, worked shorter hours, received on-base accommodation and were eligible to eat in the canteen and shop duty-free. “Natives,” by contrast, were paid lower wages, worked longer hours, commuted to their jobs, and were barred from buying duty free food or goods while on the base. There were even separate film showings at base cinemas for Americans and local people—a fact that was true in the white Dominion of Newfoundland. Although the evidence is fragmentary, the few white Bermudians employed by the U.S. Army and Navy appear to have been treated as though they were American nationals. Their salaried jobs were not typically part of the published wage schedules. Had the United States imported African American construction labor, as demanded by the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), these national lines of convenience would no longer have provided political cover for racial segregation and racebased wage differentials. The policy of paying local workers the prevailing wage rates proved to be highly controversial from the start. Unlike the race issue, blame for lower than expected wages was placed squarely on colonial governments. Everybody seemed to understand that local economic interests had used their influence with colonial officials to hold down wages. That the U.S. bases paid as much as they did was due to President Roosevelt’s secret directive to pay at the top end of the scale. There was, as a consequence, never a shortage of job seekers at the U.S. bases. Bermuda, alone among the base colonies, went further and determined who was eligible to work at the U.S. bases. The colony’s employer-dominated Labour Board quickly became a lightning rod for political discontent. Many British officials in the Caribbean region nonetheless

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believed that local laborers preferred to work for local employers for less money than work for higher wages at the U.S. bases, choosing dignity over dollars. There is little evidence to support this claim. If the U.S. occupation of the base colonies was viewed as an economic windfall by many inhabitants, and that the worst fears about American Jim Crow racism did not materialize, the friendly invaders were a far cry from the liberators of historian Harvey Neptune’s imagination. Although it is true that incoming white soldiers and sailors sometimes subverted the racial and economic order, and that the conspicuous display of wealth at the U.S. bases undermined British authority, disputes over base location, compensation for displaced property owners, racial violence, criminal jurisdiction, and the nonrecognition of trade unions marred what was otherwise a remarkably friendly invasion. The bases themselves, leased for ninety-nine years, were an affront to many nationalists in the Caribbean and became hated symbols of colonialism in the postwar era. Although there was some anxiety over the U.S. bases in Bermuda and Newfoundland, it never reached the rhetorical heights of Eric Williams’ landmark “From Slavery to Chaguaramas” speech of 1959. The influx of tens of thousands of U.S. servicemen and construction workers into the base colonies served to accelerate the cultural influence of the United States. Automobilists who navigated on the left side of Newfoundland’s roadways, for example, veered to the right hand side by war’s end. The Bermuda government, for its part, affected a policy U-turn when the prohibition on private motor vehicles was lifted. If the rules of the road were undergoing revision, everyday language also underwent change as Briticisms such as “electric car” were replaced by Americanisms such as “street car.”6 There was even a tendency on the part of Trinidadians to follow American rather than English styles of dress.7 A dramatic shift in imports from Great Britain to the United States was also reported. Several governors indicated a general reorientation of colonial life away from Great Britain and toward the United States. Newfoundland, for example, reportedly became more “North American” during the war. In response, local authorities sought to bolster the British-orientation of colonial peoples in a variety of ways. The Trinidad Guardian, for example, showcased British courage (the British home front, especially) in its pages. For its part, the Trinidad government established quotas of British films to be shown in the growing number of cinemas on the island.8 Cinematic programs changed twice weekly at “release” houses and more often at “second run” houses.9 Every cinema, by law, had to exhibit at least 8,000 feet of British news film per month; and each had to exhibit at least 15 percent British feature films each year. To meet the quota, a cinema would have to show one two-reel or two one-reel British news films every week. “We must all realize,” warned the attorney general of Trinidad, the vital importance of keeping the public of [the] Island fully and accurately informed as to what is happening in this war, and British news films provide

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an ideal means of achieving that purpose. I go further and say that they tell a story of courage, loyalty, and self-sacrifice which should be an inspiration to every man in this Colony.10

The commissioner of police, as chairman of the Film Censorship Board, examined the monthly returns of cinemas and asked for explanation when warranted. Writing in 1943, one government official reported that “I am convinced, therefore, that if this Government did not insist on the exhibition of British newsreels in accordance with the quota, public opinion as to the British share in the general war effort would be decisively affected.”11 The social and political impact of the U.S. bases was likewise of considerable interest to senior officials in the British Colonial Office. In 1943, the governors of the base colonies were asked to report on official and public reaction to the initial bases deal, subsequent social and economic effects, official and public relations with the United States, discipline, practical difficulties, the practical working of the bases agreement and to predict issues that will arise in the postwar period.12 The reports indicate that the chief issues raised by the U.S. bases were those of removal, jurisdiction, customs duties, wage rates, and Jim Crow racism. In the Caribbean region, several governors observed that the early enthusiasm for the Americans, driven by the promise of jobs and higher wages, “receded somewhat” over the course of the war. “I think it fairly safe to say,” Trinidad’s governor reported, “that the vast majority of the Colony’s inhabitants are more or less indifferent to the lease of a part of their country to a foreign power.”13 Full employment and higher wages resulted in unprecedented prosperity. Retail boomed, but an acute housing shortage resulted in higher rents that “reached a level unknown before.”14 The rising cost of living in the base colonies thus undermined the wage gains made during the war. In contrast to the changes sweeping Trinidad, the U.S. bases had a negligible impact on Jamaica and the Bahamas. That the governors of these two colonies should make such an assessment is hardly surprising as the U.S. bases were small and located far from Kingston and Nassau, respectively. Had Jamaica’s governor lived in the vicinity of the army base in Clarendon parish, forty-three miles distant from Kingston, his assessment of the situation would have been different. The effects of the bases were thus far more localized in these two colonies than in Trinidad, Bermuda, and Newfoundland (or even in tiny Antigua and St. Lucia). Senior officials at the Colonial Office waited anxiously for these reports to arrive. Their written comments, preserved in the Public Record Office, tell us that they soon identified a general pattern in the incoming reports. One February 1944 minute written by P. Rogers, noted that the report from British Guiana followed the “main lines” of earlier reports except for some “special features” that stemmed from Georgetown’s distance from the U.S. bases.15 The report’s claims were interpreted on the basis of whether or not they fit the emerging script. When the statements did so, the writer of the

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minute invariably indicated that the report confirmed the general pattern. When the report did not, however, Colonial Office officials sometimes questioned its accuracy. One governor’s assertion that good relations prevailed between local workmen and their U.S. foremen at the bases was thus discounted by Rogers because it did not fit the pattern. The “general experience has been that they were very bad at dealing with coloured labour,” he wrote. There are many such examples in the archival record. Most of the reports acknowledged widespread admiration for the largescale public works achievements of the United States.16 Governor Gordon Lethem of British Guiana, for example, reported that public opinion was mightily impressed by the “material achievements” of the United States, especially in comparison to the dearth of new colonial investments made by the British.17 The sharp contrast that this afforded was bitterly resented by other governors.18 Bede Clifford, the governor of Trinidad, thus observed that there was a “tendency on the part of Americans to be impressed by all that they are doing to develop a Colony belonging to another power without ever thinking about what they receive in return.” Indeed, the visiting forces believe that they have “rescued the Colony from stagnation, and incompetence and a tendency to belittle all that has been done . . . before they appeared on the scene.”19 The American visitors “see around them the very extensive changes and improvements they have affected in two or three years and unthinkingly assume that this same rate of progress under American control would have taken place in peace time.”20 The political implications of these comments are clear. Clifford’s discomfort was shared by senior officials in the Colonial Office who were strongly predisposed to emphasize the worst features of the American invasion. The Jim Crow racism of the visitors was often juxtaposed in diplomatic dispatches with the supposed British tolerance in race matters. When one senior official of the Colonial Office expressed concern that the visiting forces disregarded public and private rights and local laws, another wrote: “There is no cure for this disease in Americans. It is probably the result of the Wild West and all that. But it’s a simple fact that they are much less law-abiding in their own country than we are.” Sometimes, as in the case of Newfoundland, these disparate views of the Americans clashed. Tired of waiting for the dominion’s assessment, the British helpfully provided Governor Walwyn with a draft memorandum. It was deemed too critical of the United States by the members of Newfoundland’s Commission of Government. The final report eventually drafted by the government, and signed by Governor Walwyn, proved to be much more positive about the impact of the U.S. bases. In the absence of the race question, the report praised the U.S. bases as “models of modernity” and lionized American servicemen as the ideal guests—unlike the Canadians, who were blamed for much of the rowdiness on city streets. To conclude, Base Colonies in the Western Hemisphere has explored the intersections of race, class, and empire within a cross-regional comparative

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framework. In doing so, the book finds that the Anglo-American destroyers-for-bases deal of September 1940 brought sudden transformative social and political change and economic prosperity to Trinidad, Bermuda, and Newfoundland as well as to Antigua and St. Lucia. More localized changes accompanied the building of the bases in British Guiana (Guyana), Jamaica, and the Bahamas. Yet it is significant that the coming of the Americans was everywhere described as an “invasion,” friendly or otherwise.

Notes

Introduction 1. “American Troops in Newfoundland,” London Times (January 30, 1941), 3. 2. For Newfoundlanders, the big troopship was like a floating city—it had a “modern” hospital, dental services, a gym, swimming pool, and a large assembly hall for films and other entertainments. St. John’s Telegram (February 1, 1941), 7. In April, the troopship was opened to thousands of St. John’s residents. The following day’s edition of the Evening Telegram included four photos showing Newfoundlanders thronging the ship (engine room, office, gang plank; and a corridor). The people of St. John’s were said to have enthusiastically entered into the spirit of Army Day. St. John’s Telegram (April 5, 1941), 12. 3. While the ship left the pier at First Avenue and 58th Street at 2:30 pm on January 15, it did not get underway for another hour as the vessel had lurched against the pier “breaking glass in several port-holes and scraping a forty-foot swath out of the gray paint along one side.” “First Defenders Off for New Base,” New York Times (January 16, 1941), 23. 4. Harold Denny, “We Begin to Man Our New Bases,” New York Times (January 19, 1941), E6. The description of the ship’s departure can be found in “First Defenders Off for New Base,” New York Times (January 16, 1941), 23. 5. “Assembly Again Debates Bases for United States Here,” Royal Gazette and Daily Colonist (Tuesday, November 26, 1940), 1–2. 6. Eric Williams, From Slavery to Chaguaramas. Speech Delivered by the Premier at Arima. July 17, 1959. Found in the “Chaguaramas” vertical file at the National Library of Trinidad and Tobago. 7. Eric Williams, Inward Hunger (London: Andre Deutsch, 1981), 209. 8. Frederick Cooper, Colonialism in Question: Theory, Knowledge, History (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005), 23. See also Frederick Cooper and Ann Laura Stoler, eds., Tensions of Empire: Colonial Cultures in a Bourgeois World (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997), vii; 1 9. Frederick Cooper, Colonialism in Question, 27. 10. The United States of course acquired a formal empire with the conquest of the West and overseas expansion to Hawaii, Guam, the Philippines and Puerto Rico. Yet its informal empire reached far beyond. The British Empire, by contrast, occupied one quarter of the earth’s land mass after the scramble for Africa. This distinction between formal and informal empire can be found in Stuart Creighton Miller, “Benevolent Assimilation”: The American

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NOTES

11.

12.

13. 14. 15.

16.

Conquest of the Philippines, 1899–1903 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1982), 13–14. See also Editors, “United States Bases and Empire,” Monthly Review 53, 10 (March 2002), 13. British Overseas Planning Committee. Plan of Propaganda to the West Indies. 12 January 1943. File 5404–5-40C Part 1. Volume 3217. RG 25. National Archives of Canada (NAC). “Contact zones” are not geographic places with “stable significations” but sites of negotiation, borrowing and exchange. Mary Louise Pratt, Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturation (London: Routledge, 1992). The notion of “friendly invasion” later prevailed in wartime Great Britain, Australia, and other allied countries that hosted United States forces in great numbers. There is a rich and varied literature relating to each. For Great Britain, see John Reynolds, Rich Relations: The American Occupation of Britain, 1942–45 (New York: Random House, 1995); and Sonya O. Rose, “Sex, Citizenship and the Nation in World War II Britain,” American Historical Review 103, 4 (October 1998), 1147–1176. Australia is explored in Marilyn Lake, “Desire for a Yank,” International History Review 19, 1 (February 1997), 34–60; Kay Saunders, “Conflict between the American and Australian Governments over the Introduction of Black American Servicemen into Australia during WWII,” Australian Journal of Politics and History 33, 2 (1987), 39–46; Kay Saunders and Helen Taylor, “The Reception of American Servicemen in Australia during WWII: The Resilience of White Australia,” Journal of Black Studies (June 1988), 331–348; as well as E. Daniel Potts and Annette Potts, Yanks Down Under 1941–1945: The American Impact on Australia (Oxford University Press, 1985). The key works on mainland Canada include William R. Morrison and Kenneth A. Coates, Working the North: Labor and the Northwest Defense Projects, 1942–46 (Alaska: University of Alaska, 1994); and Kenneth Coates and William R. Morrison, The Alaska Highway in World War II: The US Army of Occupation in Canada’s Northwest (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1992). The meaning of the “friendly invasion” for women in Newfoundland is explored in Cecelia Benoit, “Urbanizing Women Military Fashion: The Case of Stephenville Women,” in McGrath, Barbara Neis and Marilyn Porter, eds., Their Lives and Times, Women in Newfoundland and Labrador: A Collage (St. John’s: Killick Press, 1995); Peter Neary, “Venereal Disease and Public Health Administration in Newfoundland in the 1930s and 1940s,” Canadian Bulletin of Medical History 15 (1998), 129–151; and Katherine Anne Ling, “ ‘Share of the Sacrifice’: Newfoundland Servicewives in the Second World War” (Ph.D. thesis, St. John’s: Memorial University, 2001). Stephen Constantine, The Making of British Colonial Development Policy, 1914–1940 (London: Frank Cass, 1984), 288. Sir John Campbell quoted in Stephen Constantine, The Making of British Colonial Development Policy, 1914–1940 (London: Frank Cass, 1984), 235. J.M. Lee, Colonial Development and Good Government: A Study of the Ideas Expressed by the British Official Classes in Planning Decolonization, 1939–1964 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967), 21–22. Beth Bailey and David Farber, The First Strange Place: The Alchemy of Race and Sex in World War II Hawaii (New York: Free Press, 1992). Somewhat related are those studies of the peacetime occupation of former enemy countries. Studies of postwar Germany and Japan (especially Okinawa), for

NOTES

17.

18.

19.

20.

21.

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example, have concentrated on the issues of race, gender and national identity: John Willoughby, “The Sexual Behavior of American GIs during the Early Years of the Occupation of Germany,” Journal of Military History 62 (January 1998), 155–174; Laura Hein and Mark Selden, eds., Islands of Discontent: Okinawan Responses to Japanese and American Power (New York: Rowman and Littlefield, 2003); and Michael S. Molasky, The American Occupation of Japan and Okinawa: Literature and Memory (New York: Routledge, 2001). Sonya Rose, “Sex, Citizenship and the Nation in World War II Britain,” American Historical Review 103, 4 (October 1998), 1147–1176; Marilyn Lake, “Desire for a Yank,” International History Review 19, 1 (February 1997), 34–60. See also Sonya O. Rose, “Race, Empire and British Wartime National Identity, 1939–45,” Historical Research 74, 184 (May 2001), 220–237. Harvey Neptune, Caliban and the Yankees: Trinidad and the US Occupation (Durham: University of North Carolina Press, 2007), introduction. The quotation comes from Neptune’s dissertation, “Forging Trinidad, Facing America: Colonial Trinidad and the United States Occupation, 1930–1947” (Ph.D., New York: New York University, 2002), 7. The unfolding economic and political situation in Newfoundland has similarly been explored in Peter Neary. Newfoundland in the North Atlantic World, 1929–1949 (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1988); and his “ ‘A Mortgaged Property’: The Impact of the United States on Newfoundland, 1940–49,” in Jim Hiller and Peter Neary, eds., Twentieth-Century Newfoundland: Explorations (St. John’s: Breakwater, 1994). See also Jeff A. Webb, “VOUS—Voice of the United States: The Armed Forces Radio Service in Newfoundland,” Journal of Radio Studies 11, 1 (2004); Malcolm Macleod, Peace of the Continent: The Impact of Second World War American Bases in Newfoundland (St. John’s: Harry Cuff Publications, 1986); and David MacKenzie, “A North Atlantic Outpost: The American Military in Newfoundland, 1941–1945,” War & Society 22, 2 (October 2002), 51–73. The Caribbean historiography includes Fitzroy Andre Baptiste in War, Cooperation and Conflict: The European Possessions in the Caribbean, 1939–45 (New York: Greenwood Press, 1988), O. Nigel Bolland, The Politics of Labour in the British Caribbean (Princeton: Markus Wien Publishers, 2004), and Cary Fraser, Ambivalent Anti-colonialism: The United States and the Genesis of West Indian Independence (New York: Greenwood Press, 1994) as well as a number of articles including Howard Johnson, “The Anglo-American Caribbean Commission and the Extension of American Influence in the British Caribbean, 1942–45,” Journal of Commonwealth and Comparative History 22, 2 (1984), 180–203. Stetson Conn and Byron Fairchild’s The Western Hemisphere: The Framework of Hemispheric Defense (Washington, DC: Center of Military History of the U.S. Army, 1958) and in Stetson Conn, Fairchild and Rose C. Engleman’s The Western Hemisphere: Guarding the United States and Its Outposts (Washington, DC: Center of Military History of the U.S. Army, 1964). Another useful study produced by official U.S. Army historians is Colonel Stanley W. Dziuban, Military Relations between the United States and Canada, 1939–45 (Washington, DC: Center of Military History of the U.S. Army, 1959).

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22. Charlie Whitham, “On Dealing with Gangsters: The Limits of British ‘Generosity’ in the Leasing of Bases to the United States, 1940–41,” Diplomacy & Statecraft 7, 3 (November 1996), 589–630. 23. Mary A. Renda, Taking Haiti: Military Occupation and the Culture of U.S. Imperialism, 1915–1940 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2001), 21. 24. Stephen Frenkel, “Geographical Representations of the ‘Other’: The Landscape of the Panama Canal Zone,” Journal of Historical Geography 28, 1 (2002), 85–99. 25. Ibid., 85. 26. The story of the 99th Anti-Aircraft Artillery unit is told in Annette Palmer, “The Politics of Race and War: Black American Soldiers in the Caribbean Theatre during the Second World War,” Military Affairs 47, 2 (April 1983). 27. David Brody, “Building Empire: Architecture and American Imperialism in the Philippines,” JAAS (2001), 123–145. 28. Unlike the original exchange of notes, negotiations of the leased bases agreement included representatives from the base colonies. The territorial delegations included J.H. Penson and L.E. Emerson from Newfoundland; W.J.H. Trott, H. J. Tucker, and J.W. Cox from Bermuda; Sir Arthur Richards from Jamaica, as well as Sir Hubert Young, governor of Trinidad; and Sir Gordon Lethem, governor of the Leeward Islands. 29. The colonial delegations to the London conference vigorously protested the clause that granted an exemption to the United States from customs duty. No duties for imported goods (Clause xiv) meant a loss of revenue and the prospect of smuggling. All of the base colonies relied on these import duties to finance the colonial administration. Income and property taxes were negligible or non-existent. The Bermuda delegation also spoke strongly against the presence of the U.S. Post Office in the leased areas, regarding it as a matter of sovereignty (and another source of lost revenue). William H. Beck, U.S. consul general, “Report of Bermuda Delegates to London Conference in Connection with United States Bases,” April 4, 1941, File Bermuda 1941, RG 84: Bermuda Records Re. Bases Leased by the United States in Bermuda (1941). National Archives and Records Administration (NAR A). College Park, MD. The Bermuda delegation, more than any other, dreaded agreeing to anything for fear of the reaction back home where the proposed army and navy bases were thought to be incompatible with the island’s tourist industry. See Johnson, State Department, to Secretary of State, February 22, 1941, Box 3790, RG 59 Decimal File 1940–44, 811.34544. NAR A. 30. Charlie Whitham, “On Dealing with Gangsters: The Limits of British ‘Generosity’ in the Leasing of Bases to the United States, 1940–41,” Diplomacy and Statecraft 7, 3 (November 1996), 589–591. 31. Foreign Office to Viscount Halifax (Washington), 19 February 1941, File: HQ S 15–1-458, Volume 5178, RG 24, NAC. 32. John G. Winant to Secretary of State. March 27, 1941. Box 3790. 811.34544. RG 59. NAR A. 33. “Old Glory Flies on Bermuda Isle,” New York Times (March 2, 1941), 25. 34. Sally F. Moore and Barbara G. Myerhoff, eds., Secular Ritual (Amsterdam: Van Gorcum, 1977), 24.

NOTES

35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42.

43.

44. 45.

46. 47. 48. 49.

50. 51. 52.

209

Ibid., 3–24. “The Flag Flies” The Daily Gleaner (April 18, 1941). Ibid. Ibid. Elwell Reid, “U.S. Observes Independence Day in Fight to Maintain Liberty,” Trinidad Guardian (July 5, 1942), 1. The Folklore Archives at Memorial University in St. John’s has several recordings of former residents who recalled the removal first hand. Several anonymous oral history interviews held at the Folklore Archives made this point explicitly. James Healey, Constable to P.J. O’Neill, Chief of Police. June 28, 1941. File 17. U.S. Naval Air Station, Argentia, Police Patrol. Box 34. GN 13/1/B. Public Archives of Newfoundland and Labrador (PANL). St. John’s, Newfoundland. Newfoundland Constable E. Carroll to Chief of Police, October 13, 1942. File 17. U.S. Naval Air Station, Argentia, Police Patrol. Box 34. GN 13/1/B. PANL. “Trinidad to Start Total War against V.D. From Next Month,” Trinidad Guardian (March 7, 1943). Building the Navy’s Bases in World War II: History of the Bureau of Yards and Docks ad the Civil Engineering Corps, 1940–46. Volume 2 (Washington, DC: Government Printing, 1947). Stephen Frenkel, “Jungle Stories: North American Representations of Tropical Panama,” The Geographical Review 86, 3 (July 1996), 318. “Bermuda V.D. Control Bill,” Trinidad Guardian (March 26, 1943). “Bermuda to Pay V.D. Experts Costs,” Trinidad Guardian (May 1, 1943), 1. Security Officer, British Guiana to Director-General, Security Services, London. 19 October 1944. CO 971/27 U.S. Base Information to Cabinet. End of War Report. Public Records Office (PRO). London, England. Governor of Newfoundland to Dominion Office (Secretary of State Viscount Addison), October 15, 1945. CO 971/21/7. File 81868. PRO. Ibid. Bermuda Base Command News, 3, 19 (May 15, 1943).This was nothing new of course. The preservation of social distance has always been essential to the imperial project. The British, for example, inhabited separate “stations” in India where they lived in an “ordered environment, in spacious houses enclosed by large gardens and joined by wide, straight roads. Indian towns, with their congested and winding streets, seemed a different world— mysterious and sometimes threatening.” Kenneth Ballhatchet, Race, Sex and Class under the Raj: Imperial Attitudes and Policies and Their Critics, 1793–1905 (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1980), 2. In Louis A. Perez, Jr.’s book, On Becoming Cuban, we find a journalist making a similar opposition between the extraordinary wealth of the U.S. naval station at Guantanamo and the impoverished Cuban town of the same name: “Where the American life-style prevails, with all the comfort, conveniences, the sanitary precautions, ventilation, discipline, and order required . . . . Hundreds of homes are in perfect geometric alignment, each one with ample gardens decorated profusely with roses and flowers, with very clean streets, illuminated at night with a profusion of lights.” The Cuban journalist went on to describe the neighboring Cuban town as “feted and dirty.”

210

NOTES

53.

54.

55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62.

63.

64.

The same juxtaposition of images could be found in Panama, the Philippines and in the base colonies. Quoted in Louis A. Perez, Jr., On Becoming Cuban: Identity, Nationality and Culture (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1999), 242 Reinhold Wagnleitner, Coca-Colonization and the Cold War: The Cultural Mission of the United States in Austria after the Second World War (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1994), 1, 275. The leased bases constituted a landscape of power. According to Sharon Zukin, a landscape is composed of three main elements: physical surroundings, social practices and representations. Sharon Zukin, Landscapes of Power (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991), 16–18. D.W. Meinig’s definition of landscape as symbolic expressions “of cultural values, social behavior and individual action” is useful. D.W. Meinig, The Interpretation of Ordinary Landscapes: Geographical Essays (New York: Oxford University Press, 1979), 6. “Concert and Dance at Chaguaramas,” Trinidad Guardian (September 22, 1942), 3. Arthur Goodfriend, “New Vistas on Isles of Play,” New York Times (December 28, 1941), xxi. Sylvia P. Martin, “Old Forts of Empire,” New York Times (September 8, 1940), 137. “Naval Base Contractors Win Excellence Award,” Trinidad Guardian (March 13, 1942), 4. “Bermuda Base Toil Halted for Fourth,” New York Times (July 5, 1941), 24. John O’Reilly, “Long Tranquil Bermuda Amazed to Find Itself a Defence Bastion,” Royal Gazette and Daily Colonist 27 (December 1940), 8. Ibid. The classic study of the myth is Sayed Hussein Alatas, The Myth of the Lazy Native (London: Frank Cass, 1977), 2. For Edward Said, the myth is synonymous with domination: Culture and Imperialism (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1993), 255. The “lazy native” influenced the labor policies of colonial governments around the world in the Second World War. The scholarship on wartime Africa is particularly strong. See, David Killingray and Richard Rathbone, eds., Africa and the Second World War (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1986); David Johnson, World War II and the Scramble for Labour in Colonial Zimbabwe, 1939–43 (Harare: University of Zimbabwe, 2000); Frederick Cooper, Decolonization and African Society: The Labor Question in French and British Africa (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996); Kenneth P. Vickery, “The Second World War Revival of Forced Labor in the Rhodesias,” International Journal of African Historical Studies 22 (1989), 423–437; Carolyn Brown, “The Dialectic of Colonial Labour Control: Class Struggle in the Nigerian Coal Industry, 1941–49,” Journal of Asian and African Studies 23 (1988), 32–59. H.A. Winter, Commissioner for Justice and Defense. Draft Dispatch to the Secretary of State for Dominion Affairs. October 6, 1945. Volume 8: American Bases in Newfoundland. Box 11. GN 4/1/D. PANL. E.C. Bergquist, Captain, Infantry. Memorandum to all members of Newfoundland Base Command. February 11, 1941. File: U.S. Army. Box 401. GN 13/2/A. PANL.

NOTES

211

65. Lieutenant Colonel Leon A. Fox, Medical Corps. “Sanitary Survey of Newfoundland.” March 29–April 8, 1941. File: Sanitary Reports. Box 19. RG 338 Newfoundland Base Command. NAR A. 66. Daniel J. Berry, Major, Medical Corps to Commanding Officer. “Special Sanitary Report.” March 17, 1941. File: Sanitary Reports. Box 19. RG 338. NAR A. 67. Charles W. Barton, Captain. “Inspection of Gadens Aerated Water Works, St. John’s, Newfoundland.” March 29, 1944. File: Sanitary Reports. Box 46. RG 338. NAR A. 68. Lieutenant Colonel W. A. Hardenbergh. November 2–November 17, 1940. “Sanitary Survey of Newfoundland.” File: Sanitary Reports. Box 19. RG 338. NAR A. 69. U.S. Consul General. “Political Developments during the Quarter ended March 31, 1941.” March 31, 1941. Box 41. RG 84. St. John’s Consulate. General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 70. Daniel J. Berry, Major, Medical Corps. December 30, 1941. File: Sanitary Reports. Box 19. RG 338. NAR A. 71. Daniel J. Berry, Major, Medical Corps. March 17, 1941. File: Sanitary Reports. Box 19. RG 338. NAR A. 72. George D. Hopper, U.S. Consul General. “Annual Economic Review— Newfoundland.” Box 47 (1942). RG 84. St. John’s Consulate, General Records, 1936–1949. NAR A. 73. Commissioner of Finance to Commissioner for Justice and Defense. September 11, 1945. File 19: U.S. Effect of Agreements on Colonies. Box 365. GN 13/1/B. PANL. 1 The United States and Hemispheric Defense 1. Francis Brown, “For America the Horizons Widen,” New York Times (September 15, 1940), 109. 2. “The Big Deal,” Time Magazine (September 16, 1940). 3. Ibid. 4. “Mr. Roosevelt’s Message to Congress on Bases,” The Royal Gazette and Colonist Daily (Thursday, September 5, 1940), 3. 5. See, for example, David Reynolds, The Creation of the Anglo-American Alliance, 1937–1941: A Study in Competitive Cooperation (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1982). Also useful are: Patrick Abbazia, Mr. Roosevelt’s Navy: The Private War of the US Atlantic Fleet, 1939–1942 (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1975); Waldo Heinrichs, “President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Intervention in the Battle of the Atlantic, 1941,” Diplomatic History 10, 4 (1986), 311–332. 6. Quoted in Hanson W. Baldwin, “Problems of Defending Hemisphere Are Many,” New York Times (January 2, 1940), 70. 7. James Monroe quoted in Gretchen Murphy, Hemispheric Imaginings: The Monroe Doctrine and Narratives of US Empire (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2005), 2–4. 8. Stetson Conn and Byron Fairchild, The Framework of Hemisphere Defense (Washington, DC: Center of Military History of the U.S. Army, 1958), 3. 9. “Our Defense” New York Times (August 25, 1940), 57. 10. Hanson W. Baldwin, “Problems of Defending Hemisphere Are Many,” New York Times (January 2, 1940), 70.

212

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11. Stetson Conn and Byron Fairchild, The Framework of Hemisphere Defense (Washington, DC: Center of Military History of the U.S. Army, 1958), 22; Stetson Conn, Rose C. Engelman, and Byron Fairchild, Guarding the United States and Its Outposts (Washington, DC: Center of Military History, 1964), 391–393. 12. Mark A. Stoler, Allies and Adversaries: The Joint Chiefs of Staff, the Grand Alliance and US Strategy in World War II (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2000), 24. 13. Conn, Engelman, and Fairchild, Guarding the United States, ix. 14. John Major, “The Navy Plans for War, 1937–41,” in Kenneth J. Hagan, ed., In Peace and War: Interpretation of American Naval History, 1775–1978 (Westport: Greenwood Press), 237. 15. “For Our Defense,” New York Times (September 8, 1940), 73. 16. Donald A. Yerxa, “The United States and the Caribbean, 1914–1941,” in Daniel Masterson, ed., Naval History: The Sixth Symposium of the United States Naval Academy (Wilmington, DE: Scholarly Resources, 1987), 257. 17. “The Strategic Geography of the Caribbean Sea,” Time Magazine (July 29, 1940). 18. A National Geographic Society bulletin was reproduced in “U.S. Defence Bases in the Atlantic Number Four,” The Royal Gazette and Colonist Daily (October 31, 1940), 6. 19. Major, “The Navy Plans for War,” 243. These fears were realized after the outbreak of war in 1939. Germany’s mastery of the skies enabled it to invade and quickly subdue Poland in September 1939, neutral Norway and Denmark in April 1940; Holland, Belgium and France in May–June, 1940. 20. Fitzroy Andre Baptiste, “The British Grant of Air and Naval Facilities to the United States in Trinidad, St. Lucia and Bermuda in 1939,” Caribbean Studies 16, 2 (1976), 5–9; also see his book, War, Cooperation, and Conflict: The European Possessions in the Caribbean, 1939–1945 (New York: Greenwood Press, 1988), 12. 21. Six weeks after the Munich settlement of appeasement, Roosevelt declared that the United States must be prepared to resist an attack on the Western Hemisphere “from the North Pole to the South Pole, including all of North America and South America.” Conn and Fairchild, The Framework of Hemisphere Defense, 3. 22. Ibid., 8–9. 23. Ibid., 9. 24. Stoler, Allies and Adversaries, 18. 25. Ibid., 20. 26. Major, “The Navy Plans for War,” 250. 27. “Purchase of Allied Islands Near Canal Is Favored by Voters, Gallup Survey Finds,” New York Times (June 14, 1940), 10. 28. Prescott Childs, U.S. Foreign Service, Barbados, to John Hickerson, State Department, June 24, 1940, RG 49 Secretary of State Decimal Files, 1940–49. 8440.01/6–2440, Box 5062. NAR A. 29. Ibid. 30. Francis Brown, “For America the Horizons Widen,” New York Times (15 September 1940), 109.

NOTES

213

31. Donald A. Yerxa, “The United States and the Caribbean, 1914–41,” in Daniel Masterson, ed., Naval History: The Sixth Symposium of the United States Naval Academy (Wilmington, DE: Scholarly Resources, 1987), 256. 32. Mary Renda, Taking Haiti: Military Occupation and the Culture of U.S. Imperialism (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press). 33. Francis Brown, “For America the Horizons Widen,” New York Times (September 15, 1940), 109. 34. Stuart Creighton Miller, “Benevolent Assimilation”: The American Conquest of the Philippines, 1899–1903 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1982), 13–14. 35. Quoted in Gertrude C. Bussey, President, Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom to President Franklin D. Roosevelt, December 17, 1940, in RG 59 Decimal File, 1940–44, 811.34544/620. Box 3790, NAR A. 36. Charles A. Petioni, Chairman, Caribbean Union, “West Indian View,” New York Times (19 January 1941), E9. 37. President Roosevelt was quoted in the Journal, a U.S. Women’s Magazine, as saying that he did not covet the base colonies. He wanted bases, not headaches: “Trinidad? No thanks. What a problem you have there—what a scrambled population . . . What an ethnic potpourri you have there! No thank you.” He dismissed any designs on Newfoundland because it was a “bankrupt colony” and on Bermuda because it was already an American resort whose wealthy visitors enjoyed vacationing under a different flag. Quoted in “U.S. Does Not Want to Rule Trinidad: ‘Ethnic Potpourri’ ” Trinidad Guardian (August 25, 1942), 1. 38. Franklin D. Roosevelt Memorandum, August 2, 1940, File: Navy Destroyers and Naval Bases, 1940 part 1, Box 62 (PSF). Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library (FDR Library). Hyde Park, NY. 39. “Leahy Insists on New Bases in Caribbean as ‘Almost’ Essential to Panama Defense,” New York Times (August 19, 1940), 8. 40. Joseph Kennedy to Secretary of State, August 15, 1940, RG 59, Decimal File: 1940–44, 811.34544. Box 3786, NAR A. 41. Secretary of State to William H. King, Senator, Appendix from King, “A Proposal for the Immediate Leasing of Military Bases in Certain Territories of Great Britain in the Western Hemisphere . . .” RG 59. Decimal File: 1940–44, 811.34544/8, Box 3786, NAR A. 42. Joseph Kennedy to Secretary of State, August 29, 1940, RG 59, Decimal File: 1940–44, 811.34544/26/9. Box 3786. NAR A. 43. Cordell Hull, “Memorandum of Conversation,” “U.S.-British Negotiations Regarding Exchange of Naval Bases and Destroyers,” August 25, 1940, RG 59. Decimal File, 1940–44. 811.34544/10. Box 3786. NAR A. 44. Lord Lothian to Cordell Hull, 25 August 1940, RG 59. Decimal File, 1940–44. 811.34544/121/10. Box 3786. NAR A 45. Ibid. 46. Lord Lothian to Cordell Hull, August 25, 1940, RG 59. Decimal File, 1940–44. 811.34544/121/10. Box 3786. NAR A 47. “Mr. Roosevelt’s Message to Congress on Bases,” The Royal Gazette and Colonist Daily (Thursday, September 5, 1940), 3. 48. This distinction had everything to do with racial politics in the British Empire—divided as it was between autonomous white Dominions,

214

NOTES

49.

50. 51. 52. 53.

54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61.

62.

63.

64. 65.

66.

semi-autonomous colonies like Bermuda with substantial white minorities, and nonwhite Crown Colonies administered by the Colonial Office. Interestingly, the rhetorical distinction between the two words—“gift” and “exchange”—loomed large in the minds of some white Bermudians and white Newfoundlanders. Living in St. John’s while researching the early stages of this project, I was sometimes “corrected” in conversation that Newfoundland was never part of the “destroyers for bases” deal. The archival record, however, proves otherwise. Several lengthy articles, for example, appeared in the Soviet press. Given Stalin’s pact with Hitler, the Moscow press treated the deal in a “strictly factual and objective fashion.” A U.S. diplomat nonetheless concluded that the deal was “not displeasing to the Soviets.” U.S. Embassy in Moscow to the Secretary of State, September 6, 1940, RG 59. Decimal File, 1940–44. 811.34544/52. Box 3786. NAR A. OF 4101, Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library. Hyde Park, New York. “What the Bases Mean,” Time Magazine (September 16, 1940). Hanson W. Baldwin, “U.S. Seen As Gainer in Destroyers Deal,” New York Times (September 4, 1940), 14. Ibid. For more on the advocates of intervention on the side of the British, see Lise Namikas, “The Committee to Defend America and the Debate between Internationalists and Interventionists, 1939–1941,” The Historian (June 1999). Hanson W. Baldwin, “Our Deal with Britain Affects a World’s Strategical Picture,” New York Times (September 8, 1940), 77. Ibid. Ibid. “For Our Defense,” New York Times (September 8, 1940), 73. Ibid. Ibid. Editorial, “Ships from America,” London Times (September 4, 1940). Daily Telegraph quoted in telegram from U.S. Ambassador to Great Britain, Kennedy to the Secretary of State, September 4, 1940, RG 59. Decimal File, 1940–44. 811.34544/10. Box 3786. NAR A. Daily Mail quoted in telegram from U.S. Ambassador to Great Britain, Kennedy to the Secretary of State, September 4, 1940, RG 59. Decimal File, 1940–44. 811.34544/10. Box 3786. NAR A. News Chronicle quoted in telegram from U.S. Ambassador to Great Britain, Kennedy to the Secretary of State, September 4, 1940, RG 59. Decimal File, 1940–44. 811.34544/10. Box 3786. NAR A Editorial, “Ships from America,” London Times (September 4, 1940). W.A. Domingo, President, West Indies National Council, to Franklin D. Roosevelt, December 27, 1940, RG 59 Decimal File, 1940–44, 811.34544/620. Box 3790, NAR A. The growing influence of African Americans in shaping U.S. diplomacy in the Caribbean is explored in Jason Parker, “ ‘Capital of the Caribbean’: The African-American-West Indian ‘Harlem Nexus’ and the Transnational Drive for Black Freedom, 1940– 1948,” Journal of African American History 89 (2004), 98–117. Inter-Caribbean Labor Party to Franklin Roosevelt, February 25, 1941, RG 59 Decimal File, 1940–44, 811.34544/620. Box 3790, NAR A.

NOTES

215

67. Gertrude C. Bussey, president of the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom, for example, wrote the President to express her dismay at news reports that the deal was a first step in the outright acquisition of the British West Indies. She took particular exception to newspaper reports that referred to the deal as a “real estate” transaction. The West Indian Council held a mass meeting in New York “to protest against Great Britain’s leasing bases to the United States without consulting the wishes of the inhabitants of the islands.” C. Bussey, President, Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom to President Franklin D. Roosevelt, December 17, 1940, in RG 59 Decimal File, 1940–44, 811.34544/620. Box 3790, NAR A. 68. Eric Williams, Inward Hunger (London: Andre Deutsch, 1981), 209. 69. Eric Williams, Forged from the Love of Liberty: Selected Speeches of Dr. Eric Williams (Trinidad: Longman Caribbean, 1981), xxv. 70. U.S. Embassy in Great Britain to the Secretary of State, 6 September 1940, RG 59. Decimal File, 1940–44. 811.34544/35. Box 3786. NAR A. 71. Boersen Zeitung quoted in telegram from U.S. Embassy in Great Britain to the Secretary of State, September 4, 1940, RG 59. Decimal File, 1940–44. 811.34544/17. Box 3786. NAR A. 72. Ibid. 73. U.S. Embassy in Great Britain to the Secretary of State, September 6, 1940, RG 59. Decimal File, 1940–44. 811.34544/35. Box 3786. NAR A. 74. Canadian Press wire story, “Anglo-U.S. Deal Gives Axis Powers Concern,” The Royal Gazette and Colonist Daily (Thursday, September 19, 1940), 1. 75. Department of State, Division of the American Republics, “Reaction to the Destroyers-Naval Bases Trade in Latin America,” September 10, 1940, RG 59. Decimal File, 1940–44. 811.34544/92. Box 3786. NAR A. 76. El Tiempo quoted ibid. 77. La Opinion quoted ibid. 78. Ibid. 79. Ibid. 80. The newspaper was quick to note that the islands lay just 666 nautical miles from New York City, or “a three hour flight for bombing planes.” It was also noted the islands “almost” lay on the Great Circle Route from Europe to the north of Europe; that it was an important clipper station; and commanded important North Atlantic sea lanes. “U.S. Bases Bring the Colony into News,” The Royal Gazette and Colonist Daily (September 11, 1940), 1. 81. Stanley Truman Brooks, “Gap in Defence Closed by Newfoundland Base,” The Evening Telegram, St. John’s Newfoundland (Tuesday, February 18, 1941), 5. 82. It was also noted that the German dirigible Hindenburg had flown the Great Circle Route over Newfoundland and that: “Sometimes the liner would hang nearly motionless over the headlands, provoking the belief in many circles that photographs of the island were being taken.” 83. Alexander Zeidenfelt, “The Trinidad Base in World War II.” File: “Trinidad, BWI (1942–52). Box 84. Naval Historical Centre. Washington Navy Yard. 84. Harold Denny, “We Begin to Man Our New Bases,” New York Times (January 19, 1941), E6. 85. Editorial, “Our New Bases,” New York Times (September 5, 1940), 22.

216

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86. 28 August 1940. The Joint Planning Committee to Chief of Naval Operations and the Chief of Staff of the Army. File 2. Box 5. John W. Greenslade Papers. Library of Congress (LoC). Washington, DC. 87. Hanson W. Baldwin, “U.S. Seen As Gainer in Destroyers Deal,” New York Times (September 4, 1940), 14. 88. Charlie Whitham, “On Dealing with Gangsters: The Limits of British ‘Generosity’ in the Leasing of Bases to the United States, 1940–41,” Diplomacy & Statecraft 7, 3 (November 1996), 591. 89. The Joint Planning Committee to Chief of Naval Operations and the Chief of Staff to the Army, August 28, 1940, File 2, Box 5, John W. Greenslade Papers. LoC. 90. Born on January 11, 1880 in Bellevue, Ohio, Greenslade had served on a cruiser during the Cuban campaign of the Spanish American War. He graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland, and served in the Philippines from 1899 until 1902. He later taught electrical engineering, ordinance and gunnery at the Naval Academy before being given command of large surface vessels throughout the 1920s, including the battleship Pennsylvania. He commanded the battleship division of the U.S. fleet, and the submarine force, before being named the senior member of the President’s Board of Selection. John Willis Greenslade Papers. LoC. 91. Born in 1887 in York, Pennsylvania, Jacob Devers would become best known for commanding the Allied Sixth Army Group in Europe later in the war. This field artillery specialist was a strong strategist who had a profound influence on the Board of Experts deliberations. He was promoted to Major General in October 1940. While the work of the Board was watched closely by the world’s media at the time, it is indicative of its fading importance that the substantial biographical descriptions of Jacob L. Devers posted on the Web sites of the Eisenhower Presidential Library (where his records are kept) and Arlington Cemetery (where he is interred) fail to mention his work on the Board of Experts in 1940. 92. The other members were Captain R.S. Crenshaw, U.S. Navy; Captain D.W. Rose, Supply Corps, U.S. Navy; Lt. Colonel H.J. Maloney, Field Artillery, U.S. Army; Lt. Colonel J. D. Arthur, Corps of Engineers, U.S. Army; Commander K.B. Bragg, Civil Engineer Corps, U.S. Navy; Commander C.T. Durgin, U.S. Navy; Commander H. Biesemeier, U.S. Navy (Aide to President and Legal Advisor to the Board); Ltn. Colonel O.T. Pfeiffer, U.S. Marine Corps; and Major Townsend Griffis, Air Corps, U.S. Army. File 2. Members, Advisers and Aides on the President’s Board of Naval Experts. Box 5. John W. Greenslade Papers. LoC. 93. January 6, 1941. From Board to Survey and Report on Adequacy and Future Development of the Naval Shore Establishment to the Secretary of the Navy. File 1:Greenslade Board Report. Box 196. Strategic Plans Division— Records. Post-War Planning and Sea Frontier Sections (Series XIV). Naval Historical Center (NHC). Washington Navy Yard. Washington, DC. 94. United States. Building the Navy’s Bases in World War II: Hisory of the Bureau of Yards and Docks and he Civil Engineer Corps, 1940–1946, Volume 2 (Washington, DC: Government Printing, 1947). File: Trinidad, BWI (1942–52). Box 84. NHC. 95. November 8, 1940. Outline of Local Defenses for Bases Acquired from Great Britain in the Caribbean Area and British Guiana. File 2. Box 5. Greenslade Papers. LoC.

NOTES

217

96. Memo (1) COS (40) 704, War Cabinet, Chiefs of Staff Committee. U.S. Bases in the Western Atlantic Report, 4 September 1940 meeting, CAB 98/6, War Cabinet. Committee on U.S. Bases, USB (40) and (41) Series. Minutes and Memos. PRO 97. “Experts Make Fast Start on Survey of U.S. Air & Naval Base Sites Here,” Royal Gazette and Colonist Daily (September 6, 1940), 1. 98. File 2. Department of Navy. General Board. Washington. Box 5. Greenslade Papers. LoC. 99. John O’Reilly, “Long Tranquil Bermuda Amazed to Find Itself a Defence Bastion,” The Royal Gazette and Daily Colonist 27 (December 1940), 8. 100. Memo (1) COS (40) 704, War Cabinet, Chiefs of Staff Committee. U.S. Bases in the Western Atlantic Report, 4 September 1940 meeting, CAB 98/6, War Cabinet. Committee on U.S. Bases, USB (40) and (41) Series. Minutes and Memos. PRO. 101. Conn, Engelman and Fairchild, Guarding the United States and Its Outposts, 368. 102. Harold Denny, “We Begin to Man Our New Bases,” New York Times (19 January 1941), E6. 103. September 17, 1940. Harold B. Quarton, American Consul General to Secretary of State. Box 34. RG 84. NAR A. 104. File 6: Newfoundland. Box 6. Greenslade Papers. LoC. 105. Rear Admiral J.W. Greenslade to Governor of Trinidad, October 10, 1940, Box 1, RG 84. Port of Spain (Trinidad, BWI) Consulate, NAR A. 106. May 9, 1951. Brief History of Trinidad. Box 10. Field Liaison and Records Section. Base Maintenance Division, 1930–1965. NHC. 107. Outline of Local Defenses for Bases Acquired from Great Britain in the Caribbean Area and British Guiana, 8 November 1940, File 2, Box 5, John W. Greenslade Papers, LoC. 108. Fitzroy André Baptiste, War, Cooperation and Conflict: The European Possessions in the Caribbean, 1939–1945 (New York: Greenwood Press, 1988), 87. 109. Governor of Trinidad to the Secretary of State, January 22, 1944, DO 35/1736. PRO. 110. U.S. Embassy, London, January 8, 1941, RG 59. Decimal Files, 1940–44. 811.34544/423. Box 3789. NAR A. Questions about the legality and morality of the deal were raised by the U.S.-based West Indian National Council and by the Inter-Caribbean Labor Party. W.A. Domingo, President, West Indian Council to FDR, 27 December 1940, RG 59: Decimal File, 1940–44. 811.34544/621. Box 3790, NAR A. The Inter Caribbean Labor Party, 25—Caribbean Labor Party went so far as to say that the acquisition of the bases was “unlawful.” February 1941, RG 59: Decimal File, 1940–44. 811.34544/641. Box 3790, NAR A. 111. Alexander Zeidenfelt, “The Trinidad Base in World War II,” File: Trinidad, BWI (1942–52), Box 84. NHC. 112. Ibid. 113. Ibid. 114. “Base Experts Fly over Caribbean,” New York Times (October 21, 1940), 4. 115. Monograph Histories of USN Overseas Bases, Volume 1 (Atlantic Area), 1951–1954. Box 10. Field Liaison and Records Section. Base Maintenance Division, 1930–1965. NHC.

218

NOTES

116. The Board had difficulty selecting base sites in the Bahamas. At first, the Board recommended building a seaplane base and landing field on Mayaguana Island, one of the outer islands, but President Franklin Roosevelt overruled the decision during his inspection trip in December 1940. The facilities were built on Great Exuma instead. 117. United States. Building the Navy’s Bases in World War II: History of the Bureau of Yards and Docks and the Civil Engineer Corps, 1940–46, Volume 2 (Washington, DC: Government Printing, 1947). 118. Fitzroy Andre Baptiste, War, Cooperation and Conflict: The European Possessions in the Caribbean, 1939–1945 (New York: Greenwood Press, 1988), 91–92. 119. November 8, 1940. Outline of Local Defenses for Bases Acquired from Great Britain in the Caribbean Area and British Guiana. File 2. Box 5. Greenslade Papers. LoC. 120. In St. Lucia, 90 police and a part-time militia of 160 were armed with rifles and a few machine guns. Antigua had 60 police and a “volunteer” force of 90 white settlers. There were only 3 machine guns and 260 rifles on the island. Conn, Engelman and Fairchild, Guarding the United States and Its Outposts, 357. 121. Canada sent troops to Jamaica in May 1940 (“Y” Force), to the Bahamas in June 1942 (“N” Force), and to Bermuda in October 1942 (“B” Force). There was also a small detachment sent to British Guiana. These units were made available for aid to the civil power (internal security). January 22, 1946. Memorandum. Lieutenant General Charles Foulkes. Re: Query from Canadian Press. File 821-A-406. Volume 2802. RG 25. National Archives of Canada (NAC). 122. Conn, Engelman, and Fairchild, Guarding the United States, 357. 123. September 2, 1941. British Joint Staff Mission in Washington. U.S. BasesDefence Questions. Note by the Joint Secretaries. Enclosures I, II, and III. File 821-B-40C. Volume 2802. RG 25. NAC. 124. November 14, 1942. Commander in Chief, U.S. Fleet and Chief of Naval Operations to Commander of Caribbean Sea Frontier. “Command Relations in Jamaica, BWI.” File: 4 Caribbean Sea Frontier. Box 210. Post-War Planning and Sea Frontier Sections (Series XIV). Strategic Plans Division— Records. NHC. 125. Robert P. Patterson, Assistant Secretary of War, to President, October 8, 1940, File “War Department, June-December 1940,” OF 25, Box 5, Caroline Ware Collection, Box 8. FDR Library. 126. Ulysses Lee, The Employment of Negro Troops (Washington, DC: Office of the Chief of Military History, 1966), 429. 127. There is abundant proof that such a policy was maintained. See, for example, Conn and Fairchild, The Western Hemisphere, 407–408. 128. Eisenhower was quoted as saying this in March 1942 in Graham Smith, When Jim Crow Met John Bull: Black American Soldiers in World War II Britain (London, 1987), 27. 129. The 99th Coastal Artillery unit was the only African-American formation to be deployed in the base colonies. Their arrival in Trinidad in May 1942 came despite the protests of the colonial administration. Susan Campbell, “ ‘En’less Pressure’: The Struggle of a Caribbean Working-Class in their

NOTES

130.

131.

132.

133.

134.

135. 136. 137.

138. 139.

140. 141. 142. 143. 144.

219

International Trinidad, 1919–1956” (Ph.D. thesis, Canada: Queen’s University, 1995), 266. See also Annette Palmer, “Black American Soldiers in Trinidad, 1942–44,” Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History 14, 3 (1986), 203–218. Annette Palmer, “The Politics of Race and War: Black American Soldiers in the Caribbean Theater during the Second World War,” Military Affairs 47, 2 (April 1983), 60–61. U.S. Consul General Sidney A. Belovsky to William P. Snow, Assistant Chief, Division of British Commonwealth Affairs, 22 September 1949, File 142–52: Newfoundland Bases (General) (September 1949), Box 22, RG 59: Secretary of State, Permanent Joint Board of Defense, American Section, NAR A. Foster Dulles, Secretary of State to President Franklin Roosevelt, August 7, 1943. Decimal File, 1940–44, Confidential 811.34544. Box C82. RG 59. NAR A. Memorandum of Conversation, “Stationing of Puerto Rican or negro troops in Caribbean islands,” Department of State, October 29, 1943. Decimal File, 1940–44, Confidential 811.34544. Box C82. RG 59. NAR A. Joseph T. McNarney, Deputy Chief of Staff, to Field Marshall Sir John Dill, Combined Chiefs of Staff Building, October 28, 1943. Decimal File, 1940–44, Confidential 811.34544. Box C82. RG 59. NAR A. A.A. Berle, Jr., to Mr. Hickerson, November 2, 1943. Decimal File, 1940–44, Confidential 811.34544. Box C82. RG 59. NAR A. Ibid. Memorandum of Conversation, Department of State, “Stationing of Puerto Rican or Negro Troops in Caribbean Islands,” November 13, 1943. Decimal File, 1940–44, Confidential 811.34544. Box C82. RG 59. NAR A. Mr. Hickerson to A. A. Berle, November 23, 1943. Decimal File, 1940–44, Confidential 811.34544. Box C82. RG 59. NAR A. Charles Taussig, Chairman of American Section of Anglo-American Caribbean Commission, to A.A. Berle, State Department, January 5, 1944. Decimal File, 1940–44, Confidential 811.34544. Box C82. RG 59. NARA. Harvey Neptune, for example, has almost nothing to say about the Puerto Rican soldiers who rotated into Trinidad in the second half of the war. December 2, 1940, OF 200–1-F, File “Inspection Tour,” Box 58. FDR Library. “Roosevelt’s Ship Heads for Home,” New York Times (December 14, 1940), 5. “Defense of Our Ocean Ramparts,” New York Times (March 30, 1941), SM15. Ibid.

2

The Tourism Politics of Base Location in Bermuda

1. Michael Jarvis, “From Field to Sea: Maritime Revolution and the Transformation of Bermuda, 1680–1750” (Ph.D. thesis, Williamsburg, VA: William and Mary College, 1998). 2. Ibid., 679.

220

NOTES

3. Clay Merrell, American Vice Consul, “Annual Economic Review,” July 15, 1941, File: 1941: 850–885, Box 4, RG 84: Foreign Service. Bermuda General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 4. Stephen V. Ward, Selling Places: The Marketing and Promotion of Towns and Cities, 1850–2000 (London: E & FN Spon, 1998), especially Chapters 3 and 4. See also John Urry, The Tourist Gaze: Leisure and Travel in Contemporary Societies (London: Sage, 1990), 22–23. 5. Jackson Lears, No Place of Grace: Antimodernism and the Transformation of American Culture (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981), xiv. Whether it also reflected a deep seated “anti-modernism” is a matter of some debate. Jackson Lears, for example, has suggested that anti-modern sentiment was widespread amongst the middle and upper classes of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. 6. Julia Dorr, Bermuda: An Idyll of the Summer Islands (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1893), 61. 7. Mark Twain, who Dorr met in Bermuda, also made reference to the seemingly gentle race relations that prevailed on the island. In Innocents Abroad, Twain wrote that he and his party “knew more negroes than white people because we had a deal of washing to be done, but we made some most excellent friends among the whites, whom it will be a pleasant duty to hold long in grateful remembrance.” Mark Twain, The Innocents Abroad (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1869), 432. 8. Dorr, Bermuda, 11. 9. Captain Harry Baker, “Sanitary Survey of Bermuda,” November 3–12, 1940, File 333: Inspection and Investigations by IG and Other Government Officers, 1941–42, Box 69, RG 338: Bermuda Base Command. NAR A. 10. The nine parishes of Bermuda are St. George’s, Hamilton, Smith’s, Devonshire, Pembroke, Paget, Warwick, Southampton, and Sandy’s. 11. Women property owners (overwhelmingly white) in Bermuda won the right to vote in 1944. 12. Krista Thompson, An Eye for the Tropics: Tourism, Photographs and Framing the Caribbean Picturesque (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2006), 24. 13. Duncan McDowall, Another World: Bermuda and the Rise of Modern Tourism (London: Macmillan Caribbean, 1999), 68. 14. Tourist promoters in the British West Indies, for example, emphasized signs of order, symmetry and cultivation that represented, as a “colonial picturesque.” Thompson, An Eye for the Tropics, 33. 15. Canadian business historian Duncan McDowall’s book on the history of Bermuda tourism is based on prodigious research and reveals much about the rise of Bermuda tourism. However, the author is wholly uncritical of the “pioneers” of island resort tourism. Their appeal to “quality” is thus presented as visionary rather than problematic. For McDowall, the “glorious rewards” of tourism—“a near-perfect marriage of commercial purpose and natural opportunity”—trumped any down-sides such as social inequality and racism. Throughout the book, McDowall allows the white tourist promoters to speak on behalf of “Bermudians”; whereas wartime labour leaders such as Dr. Gordon only “claimed to speak” for the masses. 16. McDowall, Another World, 128. 17. Ibid., 81–85.

NOTES

221

18. The problem of congestion was further exacerbated by sharp growth in the population, growing by 50 percent between 1921 and 1940. 19. McDowell, Another World, 81–85. 20. History of the War, 1939–1945. Volume 1. Microfilm. Bermuda Archives. Hamilton, Bermuda. 21. Ibid. 22. A.W. Betts, Lt. Colonel, Corps of Engineers to Commanding General, Bermuda Base Command, June 16, 1943, “History of Bermuda Engineering District,” U.S. Army War Diary File. Bermuda Archives. 23. House of Assembly Memorandum, November 18, 1940, USB/64 Bermuda Committee. Bermuda Archives. 24. William H. Beck, American Consul General, “Annual Political Review— Bermuda,” December 31, 1940, File 1940L 879.7, Box 3, RG 84: Bermuda. General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 25. Bermuda Committee Report, September 13, 1940, included in Memorandum #5, September 19, 1940, War Cabinet Committee on U.S. Bases. Bermuda. Draft Memorandum Prepared by Colonial Office in Collaboration with Service Departments. CAB 98/6. War Cabinet. Committee on U.S. Bases. USB (40) and (41). Series: Minutes and Memorandums. PRO. 26. A.W. Betts, Lt. Colonel, Corps of Engineers to Commanding General, Bermuda Base Command, June 16, 1943, “History of Bermuda Engineering District,” U.S. Army War Diary File, Bermuda Archives; also see Vaughn, “Historical Notes for NOB/NAS History, 1939–45,” in File 59-B-3. Bermuda Archives. 27. A.W. Betts, “History of Bermuda Engineering District.” 28. William H. Beck, American Consul General, October 10, 1940, RG 59. Decimal File, 1940–44. 811.34544/168. Box 3786. NAR A. 29. For Henry James Tucker, the changes wrought were a “tremendous improvement on the original.” Looking back on these events from the vantage point of 1985, he told the Bermuda Council of International Affairs that “We were utterly amazed and distressed by the magnitude of the first proposal. They asked for full sovereignty rights to a major part of Warwick Parish.” In response, the Governor appointed a committee “to suggest an alternative.” The solution that the Committee arrived at was to urge the United States to situate the bases in St. George’s Parish. J. Randolf Williams. Man of Stature: Sir Henry James Tucker (Bermuda: Camden Editions, 1987), Chapter 5 is on “Jack and the Bases.” 30. Ibid. 31. “Bermuda Amazed by Scope of Bases,” New York Times (November 19, 1940), 7. 32. “History of Naval Facilities in Bermuda,” August 24, 1951, Box 10, Field Liaison and Records Section. Base Maintenance Division, 1930–1965. NHC. 33. Bermuda National Trust, Bermuda’s Architectural Heritage: St. George’s (Bermuda National Trust, 1998), 137. 34. Dorr, Bermuda, 93. 35. Ibid., 94. 36. Kathleen Bragdon, “Native Americans in Bermuda,” Bermuda Journal of Archaeology and Maritime History 10 (1998), 54. 37. Ibid., 53–68.

222

NOTES

38. Phillip Rabito-Wypensenwah has done extensive work on the Indian ancestry of island residents and published his results in the popular press. 39. William H. Beck, “Annual Political Review—Bermuda,” December 31, 1940, File: 1940: 330–879.7, Box 3, RG 84: Bermuda, General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 40. “Governor Explains U.S. Bases at St. David’s,” The Royal Gazette and Colonist Daily (Wednesday, November 20, 1940), 1 41. Ibid. 42. Ibid. 43. Quoted in William H. Beck, “Annual Political Review—Bermuda,” December 31, 1940, File: 1940: 330–879.7, Box 3, RG 84: Bermuda, General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 44. History of the War, 1939–1945. Volume 1. Microfilm Reel. Bermuda Archives. 45. “Bermuda Is Invited to Talks on U.S. Bases,” The Royal Gazette and Colonist Daily (Thursday, November 21, 1940), 1, 4. 46. Ibid. 47. Ibid. 48. Ibid. 49. “Assembly Again Debates Bases for United States Here,” Royal Gazette and Daily Colonist (Tuesday, November 26, 1940), 1–2. 50. District Engineer, “Land Acquisition,” November 8, 1941, File: 834.5: Bermuda, 1941, RG 84: Records of Bases Leased by the United States in Bermuda. NAR A. 51. Ibid. A confidential memorandum by the U.S. War Department, dated September 26, 1942, indicated that 437.71 acres of the 472.58 acres acquired by the U.S. Army were privately owned. U.S. War Department. U.S. Engineer’s Office, File: “Miscellaneous Correspondence,” Box 1, Public Works Department. Office of the Arbitrator, 1941–44. Bermuda Archives. 52. The first thirty-five claims (D-1 to D-35) were submitted by the mainly white residents of St. David’s West End; whereas the next seventy-seven claims (D-36 to D-113) involved the mainly black residents and white absentee landowners to the east. 53. Testimony, January 19, 1942, File: “Arbitrators Committee Minutes, 1942,” Box 1, Public Works Department. Office of the Arbitrators, 1941–44. Bermuda Archives. Another lily farmer, Hammond Reeve Tucker Smith, explained to the arbitrators his practice of rotating his crops using a combination of land he owned and land he rented: “one year to plant lilies in about half an acre of my own land and about three quarters of an acre to lilies in either D-8 or D-12. In the next year succeeding this I would plant about three quarters of an acre to lilies in my own land and about half an acre in D-8 or D-12 and so on from year to year.” 54. He shared his property with his five brothers and sisters who lived in four homes of wooden construction. Case 40: A.A. Fox, File: St. David’s Arbitration: Minutes, 1941,” Box 1, Public Works Department. Office of the Arbitrator, 1941–44. Bermuda Archives. 55. Gilbert Lamb owned 1.5 acres (D-47), John Lamb 0.24 acres (D-56), Grover M.P. Lamb 0.45 acres (D-85), Mrs. Marie Borden 0.24 acres (D-90), Elsie Maud Violet Foggo 0.42 acres (D-104), Jeremiah Pitcher 0.44 acres (D-45), Harriet Minors 0.24 acres (D-61), and Solomon T. J. Fox 0.20

NOTES

56. 57.

58. 59.

60. 61.

62.

63.

64.

65.

66.

223

acres (D-66). Box 1, Public Works Department. Office of the Arbitrator, 1941–44. Bermuda Archives. Case #23, Jeremiah L. Pitcher, August 27, 1941, Box 1, Edmund Brownlow Gray Papers. Board of Arbitration, 1941–44. PA 91. Bermuda Archives. Case #1, W.B. Smith, Long Bird Island, File: Press Notices, 1941–3, Box 1, Public Works Department. Office of the Arbitrator, 1941–44. Bermuda Archives. Case #43, Mrs. Sarah Ann Smith, Box 2, Public Works Department. Office of the Arbitrator, 1941–44. Bermuda Archives. Case #12, Mr. Morris A. Gibbons, D-17, File: Press Notices, 1941–43, Box 1, Public Works Department. Office of the Arbitrator, 1941–44. Bermuda Archives. Case #22, Sir Stanley S. Spurling, D-41, Box 2, Public Works Department. Office of the Arbitrator, 1941–44. Bermuda Archives. Solomon T. J. Fox to Director of Public Works, 11 August 1941, Case #28, Solomon T.J. Fox, D-66, Box 2, Public Works Department. Office of the Arbitrator, 1941–44. Bermuda Archives. Case #31, Herbert Cleve Pitcher and George Stanley Pitcher, D-73, Box 2, Public Works Department. Office of the Arbitrator, 1941–44. Bermuda Archives. C.H.L. Hayward, for example, lost 6.21 acres of land that he had purchased a decade earlier. He had since erected a home, cow barn and assorted out buildings. When his land was taken, he had one half acre planted. He farmed lilies and tomatoes; for which he earned £200 and £100 respectively. He had been offered £5,027, but he wanted an additional £2,500 for lost earnings. He was unable to continue farming on his new property because the land was poor. Case #59: C. Henry L. Hayward, File: St. David’s Arbitration: Minutes, 1941, Box 1, Public Works Department. Office of the Arbitrator, 1941–44. Bermuda Archives; and, Case #59: C. Harry L. Hayward, File: St. David’s Arbitration Correspondence, Colonial Secretary, 1941–43, Box 1, Public Works Department. Office of the Arbitrator, 1941–44. Bermuda Archives. August 8, 1941, Testimony of R.M. Sivier, File: “St. David’s Arbitration: Minutes, 1941,” Box 1, Public Works Department. Office of the Arbitrator, 1941–44. Bermuda Archives. Neville Butler, British Embassy in Washington to J.G. Dunn, U.S. Department of State, February 10, 1941, File: Miscellaneous Correspondence, Box 1, Public Works Department. Office of the Arbitrator, 1941–44. Bermuda Archives. The same document is found in other archives, see Neville Butler, British Embassy, Washington, to J.G. Dunn, U.S. Department of State, February 10, 1941, File: 834.5: Bermuda, 1941, RG 84: Records of Bases Leased by the United States in Bermuda. NAR A. According to a November 10, 1942 dispatch from the Colonial Office, the procedure agreed to “has been varied in respect of cases where the Colonial Government valuation is higher than the United States valuation. Under the original procedure these cases would at once be referred to the court for decision. Under variation which has been adopted, offer will be made without prejudice of the amount of the United States valuation, and if that offer is not accepted, negotiations will proceed with a view to reaching settlement at a figure not exceeding the amount of the Colonial Government valuation.”

224

NOTES

67. 68.

69. 70.

71.

72. 73. 74. 75.

76. 77.

78.

79. 80. 81. 82.

83.

84.

85.

Secretary of State for the Colonies, November 10, 1942, File: “St. David’s Arbitration: Matters Pending,” Box 1, Public Works Department. Office of the Arbitrator, 1941–44. Bermuda Archives. Minute of Colonial Secretary, September 10, 1941, USB/15, “Rehabilitation of Dispossessed Persons, 1941–56.” Bermuda Archives. Bermuda passed several key legislative acts in 1941 including the Acquisition of Land Act, the U.S. Bases (Acquisition of Land) (St. David’s Island) Act, and the U.S. Bases (Acquisition of Land) (Rehabilitation) Act. District Engineer, “Land Acquisition,” November 8, 1941, File: 834.5: Bermuda, 1941, RG 84: Records of Bases Leased by the United States in Bermuda. NAR A. Ibid. Cyril Smith, Director of Works, Bermuda government, August 19, 1941, Meeting, File: St. David’s Arbitration: Minutes, 1941, Box 1, Public Works Department. Office of the Arbitrator, 1941–44. Bermuda Archives. District Engineer, “Land Acquisition,” November 8, 1941, File: 834.5: Bermuda, 1941, RG 84: Records of Bases Leased by the United States in Bermuda. NAR A. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. “The U.S. Bases (Acquisition of Land) (St. David’s Island) Act, 1941,” May 16, 1941, USB/15, “Rehabilitation of Dispossessed Persons, 1941–56.” Bermuda Archives. District Engineer, “Land Acquisition,” November 8, 1941. Captain Dill, Memorandum, “Questions and Answers regarding Compulsory Land Acquisition at St. David’s Island,” n.d. (probably July 1941), USB/15, “Rehabilitation of Dispossessed Persons, 1941–56.” Bermuda Archives. H. Henniker-Heaton, Acting Colonial Secretary to American Consul General, April 6, 1942, File: St. David’s Arbitration Correspondence, Colonial Secretary, 1941–3,” Box 1, Public Works Department. Office of the Arbitrators, 1941–44. Bermuda Archives. Final Report of St. David’s Committee, USB/15, “Rehabilitation of Dispossessed Persons, 1941–56.” Bermuda Archives. “Bermuda Base Costs $2,850,000,” Trinidad Guardian (August 17, 1943), 5. In other words, total compensation dispensed to St. David’s Islanders amounted to £250,452. This was a far cry from the £570,000 demanded. U.S. Consul General, Bermuda to Secretary of State, May 22, 1942, File: 1941: 800–834.5, Box 4, RG 84: Bermuda General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. “History of Naval Facilities in Bermuda,” August 24, 1951, Box 10, Field Liaison and Records Section. Base Maintenance Division, 1930–1965. NHC. William H. Beck, American Consul General, Bermuda to Secretary of State, May 22, 1942, File: 1941: 800–834.5, Box 4, RG 84: Bermuda General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. District Engineer, “Land Acquisition,” November 8, 1941. The members of the St. David’s Committee were named on December 11, 1940 to assist those islanders who asked for the aid of the committee. They included

NOTES

86.

87. 88. 89. 90. 91. 92.

93. 94. 95. 96. 97. 98.

99. 100. 101. 102.

103.

104.

105. 106. 107.

225

Captain N.B. Dill (chair), W.S. Cooper, R.S. McCallan, E.P.T. Tucker, and W.E.S. Zuill. Minutes of the Second Meeting of the St. David’s Committee, December 24, 1940, File: Minutes, St. David’s Committee Meeting, 1–62. W.E.S. Zuill Papers. Board of Arbitration, 1940–44. Bermuda Archives. Ibid. Final Report of St. David’s Committee, USB/15, “Rehabilitation of Dispossessed Persons, 1941–56.” Bermuda Archives. District Engineer, “Land Acquisition,” 8 November 1941. Ibid. Final Report of St. David’s Committee, “Rehabilitation of Dispossessed Persons, 1941–56.” August 8, 1941, Testimony of R.M. Sivier, File: “St. David’s Arbitration: Minutes, 1941,” Box 1, Public Works Department. Office of the Arbitrator, 1941–44. Bermuda Archives. Final Report of St. David’s Committee, USB/15, “Rehabilitation of Dispossessed Persons, 1941–56.” Bermuda Archives. Bermuda National Trust, Bermuda’s Architectural Heritage: St. George’s (Bermuda National Trust, 1998), 138. Final Report of St. David’s Committee, “Rehabilitation of Dispossessed Persons, 1941–56.” History of the War, 1939–1945 Volume 1. Microfilm Reel. Bermuda Archives File: St. David’s Arbitration: Minutes, 1941, Box 1, Public Works Department. Office of the Arbitrator, 1941–44. Bermuda Archives. Captain Dill, Memorandum, “Questions and Answers regarding Compulsory Land Acquisition at St. David’s Island,” n.d. (probably July 1941), USB/15, “Rehabilitation of Dispossessed Persons, 1941–56.” Bermuda Archives. Dolores G. Block, Kindley Air Force Base, Bermuda: The First Twenty-Five Years (Information Division U.S.A.F. Kindley AFB, 1969), Chapter 2. “Sea Off Bermuda Yields an Airfield,” New York Times (June 20, 1943), 36. August 24, 1951. History of Naval Facilities in Bermuda. Box 10. Field Liaison and Records Section. Base Maintenance Division, 1930–1965. NHC. March 6, 1944. Chairman, Board of Public Works and Director of Public Works, “Memorandum on Road Damage in Bermuda.” File: Hamilton, Bermuda, 1944. RG 84. Foreign Service. Bermuda. Records re. Bases Leased by the United States in Bermuda, 1941, 1943–48. NAR A. January 5, 1942. Secretary of State for Dominion Affairs to Washington Embassy. File 35: American Bases—January 1942.” Box 34. GN 13/1/B. PANL. March 9, 1944. A.G. Strong, Brigadier General, U.S. Army, Commanding to Adjutant General, War Department. File: Hamilton, Bermuda, 1944. RG 84. Foreign Service. Bermuda. Records re. Bases Leased by the United States in Bermuda, 1941, 1943–48. NAR A “Bermuda Has First Motor Speeding Case,” Trinidad Guardian (March 7, 1943). January 9, 1943. Intelligence Reports. Weekly #2. File 319.114. Box 56. RG 338. NAR A. March 6, 1944. Chairman, Board of Public Works and Director of Public Works. “Memorandum on Road Damage in Bermuda.” File: Hamilton,

226

NOTES

Bermuda, 1944. RG 84. Foreign Service. Bermuda. Records re. Bases Leased by the United States in Bermuda, 1941, 1943–48. NAR A 108. July 19, 1943; August 2, 1943. File 319.114. Intelligence Reports. Weekly #2. Box 56. RG 338. NAR A. 109. McDowall, Another World, 145.

3

Working for Uncle Sam in Newfoundland

1. Much of the scholarly attention, internationally, has focused on wartime factory workers and their unions, a tendency that has produced a decidedly urban and industrial bias. One exception is William R. Morrison and Kenneth A. Coates, Working the North: Labor and the Northwest Defense Projects, 1942–46 (Anchorage, AK: University of Alaska Press, 1994). Another is Gerald D. Nash, World War II and the West: Reshaping the Economy (Lincoln: University of Nebraska, 1990). Wartime conditions encouraged the labor force participation of independent commodity producers outside North America. For British Africa see Frederick Cooper, Decolonization and African Society: The Labour Question in French and British Africa (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996). 2. The report is cited in David Alexander, The Decay of Trade: An Economic History of the Newfoundland Saltfish Trade, 1935–1965 (St. John’s: ISER Books, 1977), 1. 3. Fully 80,684 people were on the dole in June 1939. William Earle Gillespie, A Class Act: An Illustrated History of the Labour Movement in Newfoundland and Labrador (St. John’s: Newfoundland Federation of Labour, 1986), 81. 4. Lt. Colonel Leon A. Fox, Medical Corps, “Sanitary Survey of Newfoundland,” March 29–April 8, 1941, File 721.5, “Sanitary Reports,” Box 19, RG 338: Newfoundland Base Command (U.S. Army). NAR A. Tom Cahill has suggested that this poverty was “invented” by Confederates such as Joey Smallwood to justify union with Canada in 1949. See Tom Cahill, “The Poverty Myth,” in J.R. Thoms, ed., Fifty Golden Years: The Illustrated Story of Newfoundland and Labrador’s Union with Canada (St. John’s: Stirling Communications, 1999), 72–75. The “poverty myth” thesis is effectively challenged in James Overton, “Poverty Dependency and Self-Reliance: Politics, Newfoundland History and the Amulree Report of 1933,” in Garfield Fizzard, ed., Amulree’s Legacy: Truth, Lies and Consequences Symposium (St. John’s: Newfoundland Historical Society, 2001). 5. Peter Neary, Newfoundland in the North Atlantic World, 1929–1949 (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1996 [1988]), 9. Fishermenloggers and domestics are discussed in Ingrid Botting, “ ‘Getting a Grand Falls Job’: Migration, Labour Markets, and Paid Domestic Work in the Pulp and Paper Town of Grand Falls, Newfoundland, 1905–1939” (Ph.D. thesis, St. John’s: Memorial University, 2000) and John Dufferin Sutherland, “A Social History of Pulpwood Logging in Newfoundland during the Great Depression” (M.A. thesis, St. John’s: Memorial University, 1988).

NOTES

227

6. This approach contrasted sharply to the one adopted in the woods sector early in the war where a tripartite Woods Board composed of industry, labor and government regulated wages. Had the labor reforms recommended by Thomas K. Liddell been implemented in 1940, the government might have adopted a similar approach to base workers. Thomas K. Liddell, Industrial Survey of Newfoundland (St. John’s: Telegram, 1940). As it stood, the bureaucratic capacity of the civil service—especially outside of St. John’s—was negligible. Newfoundland did not even have a labor officer until 1942. See James Overton, “Economic Crisis and the End of Democracy: Politics and Newfoundland during the Great Depression,” Labour/Le Travail 26 (Fall 1990), 121. 7. Both Canada and the United States also sought to maintain existing regional and occupational wage differentials, but how they went about achieving this differed. For its part, Canada adopted the wage standard of 1929, before the depression drove down wages. Judy Fudge and Eric Tucker, Labour before the Law: The Regulation of Workers’ Collective Action in Canada, 1900–1948 (Don Mills: University of Toronto Press, 2001), 229. The compulsory wage controls of October 1941, however, met with stiff resistance from organized labor. In the resulting compromise, the Canadian government accepted compulsory collective bargaining see, Cy Gonick, Paul Phillips, and Jesse Vorst, eds., Labour Gains, Labour Pains: Fifty Years of PC 1003 (Winnipeg: Society for Socialist Studies, 1995); Peter S. McInnis, Harnessing Labour Confrontation: Shaping the Postwar Settlement in Canada (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2002); Laurel Sefton MacDowell, “The Formation of the Canadian Industrial Relations System during World War Two,” Labour/Le Travail 3 (1978), 175–196; and Jeremy Webber, “The Malaise of Compulsory Conciliation: Strike Prevention in Canada during World War II,” Labour/Le Travail 15 (Spring 1985), 57–90. The United States in turn relied on a combination of state regulation and trade union cooperation (most notably the “no strike pledge” from the CIO) for its 1942 program to restrict wage increases. Robert H. Zieger, The CIO, 1935– 1955 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1995); Nelson Lichtenstein, Labor’s War at Home: The CIO in World War II (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982). By contrast, Great Britain tolerated and supported wage increases for comparatively low waged miners, agricultural workers and railroad labour. Samuel D. Berger (Member of the Harriman Mission), “The Trade Unions and British War-Time Wage Policy,” July 8, 1942, File: “British Wage Rates,” Box 102, Isador Lubin Papers, Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library. 8. Canadian high commissioner Scott Macdonald quoted in Peter Neary, “Canada and the Newfoundland Labour Market, 1939–1949,” Canadian Historical Review 62, 4 (December 1981), 470–495. 9. Charles Burchell quoted in Malcolm MacLeod, Peace of the Continent (St. John’s: Harry Cuff Publications, 1986), 13. 10. “Excerpts from Report of 21 January 1942 from George D. Hopper, Consul General,” File: “Untitled,” Box 80, RG 338: Newfoundland Base Command, NAR A. 11. Colonel Stanley W. Dziuban, Military Relations between the United States and Canada, 1939–1945 (Washington, DC: Center of Military History of the U.S. Army, 1959), 168–169. And Stetson Conn, Rose C. Engelman,

228

NOTES

12. 13. 14.

15.

16. 17.

18. 19. 20. 21. 22.

23.

24. 25. 26. 27. 28.

and Byron Fairchild, The Western Hemisphere: Guarding the United States and Its Outposts (Washington, DC: Center of Military History of the U.S. Army, 1964), 383. For an example of this tendency, see Peter Neary, Newfoundland in the North Atlantic, 185. William E. Cole, Jr., “Annual Economic and Financial Review, Newfoundland 1942,” reprinted in Newfoundland Studies 8, 1 (1992), 70–71. Outside of the Avalon Peninsula the comings and goings of Newfoundlanders can be tracked to some extent in the monthly general condition reports filed by Newfoundland Rangers. Boxes 1–4, Newfoundland Rangers, Provincial Archives of Newfoundland and Labrador (hereafter PANL). The government considered limiting employment to those most in need, but the labor exchanges organized at Placentia and Marystown quickly broke down as men drifted to where the jobs were located. Although the Commission of Government toyed with the idea of a centrally organized scheme, nothing came of it. Commissioner of Natural Resources J. H. Gorvin to Secretary of Natural Resources, File: D26/21/2, “Argentia Acquisition of Bases Area Compensation,” January 31, 1941, GN 31/3A, PANL. Report of W.R.D. Bishop, Ranger, Marystown, April 5, 1941, Box 3, Newfoundland Rangers, PANL. “Notes on Argentia,” May 1943, Box 33, Field Liaison and Records Section. Base Maintenance Division, 1930–1965, United States Navy Historical Center [hereafter NHC], Washington Navy Yard, Washington, DC. J.E. Gilpatrick to His Wife, October 3, 1941, J.E. Gilpatrick. Argentia Scrapbooks, 1941–42. PANL. J.E. Gilpatrick to His Wife, July 12, 1941, J.E. Gilpatrick Argentia Scrapbooks, 1941–42. PANL. J.E. Gilpatrick to His Wife, August 28, 1941, J.E. Gilpatrick Argentia Scrapbooks, 1941–42. PANL. Report of Ranger J.J. Hogan, Bay L’Argent, April 4, 1941, Box 4, Newfoundland Rangers, PANL. Report of Ranger G.C. Jenkins, Lamaline, September 3, 1941, Box 4, Newfoundland Rangers, PANL; Report of Ranger G. Paul, Burin, October 31, 1942, Box 4, Newfoundland Rangers, PANL; and, Report of Ranger J. Thomas, Harbour Breton, April 6, 1942, Box 4, Newfoundland Rangers, PANL. Sergeant E. Carroll to Chief of Police, September 25, 1942, File 8: “Conditions at Argentia regarding the Employment of Women,” Box 240, GN 13/1/B, PANL. Report of Ranger J. Thomas, Harbour Breton, April 6, 1942, Box 4, Newfoundland Rangers, PANL. Report of Ranger E. Toms, Flowers Cove, October 31, 1942, Box 3, Newfoundland Rangers, PANL. Newfoundland Governor Humphrey Walwyn is quoted as saying as much in Neary, Newfoundland in the North Atlantic World, 174. Report of Ranger W.R.D. Bishop, Marystown, July 3, 1942, Box 3, Newfoundland Rangers, PANL. William E. Cole, Jr, File: 1943 “Monthly Economic and Financial Review for May 1943,” Box 56, RG 84: St. John’s Consulate. General Records, 1936–1949. NAR A.

NOTES

229

29. George D. Hopper, “Monthly Economic and Financial Review for October 1943,” File 1943, Box 56, RG 84: St. John’s Consulate. General Records, 1936–1949. NAR A. 30. Reports of Ranger I.S. Glendinning, Burin, June 30, 1941, Box 4, Newfoundland Rangers, PANL. 31. Report of Ranger D. Bishop, Marystown, April 30, 1941, Box 4, Newfoundland Rangers, PANL. 32. Humphrey Walwyn, Governor of Newfoundland to the Viscount Addison, Secretary of State for Dominion Affairs, October 15, 1945, File 19: “US Effect of Agreement on Colonies,” Box 365, GN 13/1/B, PANL. 33. “Construction Program, Newfoundland Base Command,” April 2, 1942, File 600.12, “Projects,” Box 18, Newfoundland Base Command (hereafter NBC), NAR A. 34. “How the Caribbean Met Its Economic Problems,” n.d., File A8–1 (d), “Caribbean Islands and the War,” Box 23, RG 43 Anglo-American Caribbean Commission, 1940–46, NAR A. 35. The promise effectively extended the Davis-Bacon Act of 1931, wherein the U.S. Congress had required that federal contractors operating within the United States pay local prevailing rates for construction work, to the 99-year leased bases. John B. Gould and George Bittlingmayer, The Economics of the Davis-Bacon Act: An Analysis of Prevailing-Wage Laws (Washington, DC: American Enterprise Institute, 1980). 36. The order read: “Wage rates for local labor will be established by the contracting officer, and will in general be the prevailing rates as established by the local Labor Board, or other corresponding agency.” Memorandum from Frank Knox, Navy Department, 28 January 1941, File: Colonial Office (hereafter CO) 971/2/1, Public Records Office (hereafter PRO), London, England. 37. A letter from Navy Secretary Knox to Lawrence Cramer is cited in “How the Caribbean Met its Caribbean Problems,” no date, File A8–1 (d) “Caribbean Islands and the War,” Box 23, RG 43 Anglo-American Caribbean Commission, 1940–46, NAR A. 38. Extract from a House of Commons Report, July 2, 1941, Column 1339–40, File: Cabinet Records (hereafter CAB) 21/1913, “Committee on US Bases Policy,” PRO. 39. Minute from J. Hibbert, October 24, 1941, File: CO 971/2/2, “Parliamentary Question: Leases to the USA—Local Labour,” PRO. 40. Minute, October 25, 1941, File: CO 971/2/2, “Parliamentary Question: Leases to the USA—Local Labour,” PRO. 41. Confidential Biographical Data in Despatch 1096, March 8, 1941, File: St. John’s, Newfoundland, 1949, Box 5, RG 84: St. John’s Security-Segregated General Records, 1935–1949, NAR A. 42. Woods was aware that the Davis-Bacon Act required government contractors to pay prevailing wages within the United States. Commissioner of Natural Resources J.H. Gorvin, Minute, January 17, 1941, File: D26/21/2, “Argentia Acquisition of Bases Area. Compensation,” GN 31/3A, PANL. 43. Quoted in a memorandum from Sir Wilfrid Woods to Commission of Government, “Memorandum regarding the Problem of Rates of Wages as It Affects the Canadian and United States Authorities Who Are or Will Be Carrying Out Large Works in This Country,” January 17, 1941, File: G39/3,

230

NOTES

44.

45.

46. 47.

48. 49. 50.

51. 52. 53. 54. 55.

56.

57. 58. 59. 60.

“Rates of Pay in Relation to Work for Canadians and Americans,” Volume 1, GN 4/1/D, PANL. The message was delivered. Canada’s Minister of Labour subsequently wrote the High Commissioner in St. John’s that it was the “wish of the Commission of Government in Newfoundland that prevailing wage rates and labour conditions throughout that country should not be unduly upset.” Norman McLarty to C.J. Burchell, October 23, 1941, File: 2857–40 part 1, Volume 8466, RG 25, National Archives of Canada (hereafter NAC). Wilfrid Woods (via Secretary W.J. Carew) to Commission of Government, January 17, 1941, “Memorandum regarding the Problem of Rates of Wages as It Affects the Canadian and United States Authorities Who Are or Will Be Carrying Out Large Works in This Country,” File G39/3, “Rates of Pay in Relation to Work for Canadians and Americans,” Volume 1, GN 4/1/D, PANL. Ibid. Minutes of Commission of Government Meeting, January 18, 1941, File G39/3, “Rates of Pay in Relation to Work for Canadians and Americans,” GN 4/1/D, PANL. St. John’s Daily News, January 18, 1941. Lieutenant Colonel Philip G. Bruton to the Honourable Sir Wilfrid W. Woods, January 27, 1941, File: G39/3, Volume 1, GN 4/1/D, PANL. Woods cited in a letter from the Canadian High Commissioner in St. John’s, C.J. Burchell, to the Secretary of State for External Affairs, November 18, 1941, File: 2857–40 Part 1, RG 25: Volume 8466, NAC. Labour Relations Officer, “Statistics,” n.d. (probably 1944), GN 38, Box S5–1–3, PANL. “WJR” to Secretary of Public Works, “Report of Meeting,” February 26, 1941, File: G/39/3, GN 4/1/D, PANL. Philip G. Bruton to Wilfrid W. Woods, February 25, 1941, File: G/39/3, Volume 1, GN 4/1/D, PANL. “Newfoundland Economic Conditions,” Journal of International Economy (May 12, 1945). Katherine Anne Ling, “ ‘Share of the Sacrifice’: Newfoundland Servicewives in the Second World War” (Ph.D. thesis, St. John’s: Memorial University, 2001), 83. Other important occupational categories at the U.S. Army bases were carpenters and painters, clerical workers, and machine operators. Classification Report of Newfoundland Labour (as of October 1, 1942), Tabulated Summary of Newfoundand Nationals employed attached to a letter from H.G. Petersen, Major, Corps of Engineers to W. W. Woods, October 15, 1942, File: “Public Utilities—General, 1941–1942,” GN 38, S5–1–2, PANL. “Labour Meeting and Wage Rates Are Discussed,” Daily News (February 20, 1941). Laborer, “The Telegram Forum,” Evening Telegram (February 29, 1941). Constable James Heaney to Chief of Police, “General Conditions at Argentia,” 8 March 1941, G/442 Argentia Naval Base, Volume 1, PANL. “WJR” to Secretary of Public Works, Handwritten confirmation of the changes made to American wage schedule, 27 February 1941, File G/39/3, Volume 1, GN 4/1/D, PANL.

NOTES

231

61. W.W. Woods, “Memorandum regarding the Minimum Rate for Common Labourers in Newfoundland,” April 29, 1941, File: G39/3, “Rates of Pay in Relation to Work for Canadians and Americans,” Volume 1, GN 4/1/D, PANL. 62. H.T. Renouf to Board of Trade President, “Confidential Report to the President regarding an Informal Visit to Argentia, June 30, 1941,” July 14, 1941, File 5, “Correspondence and Memorandums regarding US Bases in Newfoundland,” Board of Trade Collection, PANL. 63. George D. Hopper, American Consul General. “Political Developments during the Months of July and August, 1941,” September 9, 1941, File: 1941, Box 41, RG 84: St. John’s Consulate General. General Records, 1936–1949, NAR A. Another strike at Fort McAndrew in October 1941 lasted one hour and involved 1,500 workers. Constable Leo Furey to Chief of Police, “Social and Economic Life at Argentia,” October 16, 1941, File: G/442, “Argentia Naval Base,” Volume 2 (March 1941–December 1941), GN 4/1/D, PANL. 64. Editorial quoted in “Monthly Economic and Financial Review,” 9 September 1941, File 1941: 310–628, Box 40, RG 84: St. John’s Newfoundland Consulate. General Records, 1936–1949, NAR A. 65. Malcolm Moss to W.W. Woods, 6 November 1941, File: G39/3, “Rates of Pay in Relation to Work for Canadians and Americans,” Volume 1, GN 4/1/D, PANL. 66. A. M. Crowdwell, Secretary to the Commission of Government to Malcolm Moss, November 10, 1941, File: G39/3, “Rates of Pay in Relation to Work for Canadians and Americans,” Volume 1, GN 4/1/D, PANL. 67. S. Roberts, editor of the Twillingate Sun to Commissioner John C. Puddester, December 15, 1943, File: G/39/3, “Rates of Pay in Relation to Work for Canadians and Americans,” Volume 1, GN 4/1/D, PANL. 68. Sir Wilfrid Woods to Commissioner John C. Puddester, December 1943, File: G39/3, “Rates of Pay in Relation to Work for Canadians and Americans,” Volume 1, GN 4/1/D, PANL. 69. George G. Thomas, Manager to George D. Hopper, American Consul General, January 29, 1943, File: 1943, Box 53, RG 84: St. John’s Consulate. General Records, 1936–1949, NAR A. 70. G. G. Thomas, Buchans, to Mr. and Mrs. G.F. Maughmer, Phoenix, Arizona, May 19, 1942, Box 108, GN 13/1/B, PANL. 71. “Newfoundland Economic Conditions,” Journal of International Economy (June 14, 1944). 72. Minute, March 28, 1940, Box 1, Book 1, Collection 110: Minutes of the Woods Labour Board, Centre for Newfoundland Studies Archives (hereafter CNS), Memorial University, St. John’s. 73. John Dufferin Sutherland, “ ‘We Are Only Loggers’: Loggers and the Struggle for Development in Newfoundland, 1929–1959” (Ph.D. thesis, Burnaby, Canada: Simon Fraser University, 1995), 343. 74. A.W. Bentley quoted in Minute, April 10, 1943, Box 1, Book 2, Collection 110: Minutes of the Woods Labour Board, CNS. 75. Bowater’s General Manager’s Report for 1941, 47–48, MG 15: Bowater’s Newfoundland Ltd., PANL. 76. Ibid., 44.

232

NOTES

77. Letter from A.W. Bentley, Manager of Woods Department of Bowater’s to Commissioner of Natural Resources P.D.H. Dunn, October 21, 1941, Box 3, Newfoundland Rangers, PANL. 78. Memorandum by P.D.H. Dunn to Commission, “Employment of Women in Logging Camps,” October 27, 1941, Box 3, Newfoundland Rangers, PANL. 79. Speech Broadcast by P.D.H. Dunn, June 27, 1942, File: D26/21/9, “Diversion of Labour to Work on US Army Bases,” GN 31/3A, PANL. 80. Ranger E. P. Thorburn, Badger, May 1, 1942, Box 4, Newfoundland Rangers, PANL. 81. Ranger W.R.D. Bishop, Marystown, March 5, 1942, Box 4, Newfoundland Rangers, PANL. 82. Vincent S. Jones, Managing Director to American Consul General George D. Hopper, quoted in “Annual Review of Trade. Anglo-Newfoundland Development Co. Ltd.,” January 27, 1943, File: 1943, RG 84: St. John’s Consulate. General Records, 1936–1949, NAR A. 83. Report of the Labour Relations Officer, June 1/42–February 8/44 (St. John’s, 1944). 84. Ranger C.L. Summers, Cartwright, May 5, 1942, Box 4, Newfoundland Rangers, PANL. 85. For an excellent discussion of the 1943–1945 period see Peter Neary, “Canada and the Newfoundland Labour Market, 1939–1949,” Canadian Historical Review 62, 4 (December 1981), 470–495. 86. The standard view is that the truck system “shamefully exploited resident fishermen” says historian Sean Cadigan. He and Rosemary Ommer have argued that this system developed as an accommodation between merchants and fishers in a cash-strapped economy. See Sean T. Cadigan, Hope and Deception in Conception Bay: Merchant Settler Relations in Newfoundland, 1785–1855 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1995) and Rosemary Ommer, ed., Merchant Credit and Labour Strategies in Historical Perspective (Fredericton: Acadiensis Press, 1990). 87. Howard Cecil Brown, “The Impact of Modernization on a Traditional Regional System: The Case of Inner Placentia Bay, Newfoundland, 1911– 1966” (M.A. thesis, St. John’s: Memorial University, 1985), 241. 88. W. Gordon Hancock, “The Origin and Development of Commission of Government Land Settlements in Newfoundland, 1934–1969” (M.A. thesis, St. John’s: Memorial University, 1970), Chapter 4. 89. Hancock, “Origins and Development of Commission of Government,” 210. 90. R. Gushue, Chairman of Newfoundland Fisheries Board to George D. Hopper, American Consul General, December 20, 1941, File 1941: 310–628, Box 40, RG 84: St. John’s Newfoundland Consulate General. General Records, 1936–1949, NAR A. 91. William E. Cole, Jr., “Annual Economic and Financial Review, Newfoundland 1942,” File 1943, Box 53, RG 84: St. John’s Newfoundland Consulate General. General Records, 1936–1949, NAR A. 92. Ranger A. LeGrow, Grand Bank, 12 December 1942, Box 3, Newfoundland Rangers, PANL. See also the reports filed by Ranger L. Saunders, Belleoram, 5 April 1942, Box 4, Newfoundland Rangers, PANL; and, Ranger I.S. Glendinning, Burin, “Abuses of Opportunities of Employment at Argentia,”

NOTES

93.

94.

95.

96.

97.

98.

99. 100. 101.

102.

233

March 18, 1942, File: D 26/21/9, “Diversion of Labour to Work on US Army Bases,” GN 31/3A, PANL. In a press communiqué released on May 19, 1941, the Commission strongly urged fishermen to stay in their boats: “Fishermen and others who have no special knowledge, training or experience in these and other occupations should not abandon the fishery.” Quoted in “Press Communique: Work Limited for Unskilled Labour,” Evening Telegram (May 19, 1941). L.M. Hyde, Manager of Newfoundland-Labrador Export Company Ltd to the Department of Natural Resources, May 23, 1941, File: D 26/21/9, “Diversion of Labour to Work on US Army Bases,” GN 31/3A, PANL. J.H. Gorvin, Commissioner of Natural Resources to N. MacNeil, Cooperative Division, May 30, 1941, File D 26/21/9, “Diversion of Labour to Work on US Army Bases,” GN 31/3A, PANL. Chief Cooperative Officer, N. MacNeil to Commissioner of Natural Resources, June 7, 1941, File: D 26/21/9, “Diversion of Labour to Work on US Army Bases,” GN 31/3A, PANL. Draft of the “Important Notice. Employment Outlook” circulated to Commission of Government for advice on February 14, 1942 (with notations), File: D 26/21/9, “Diversion of Labour to Work on US Army Bases,” GN 31/3A, PANL. The earlier draft of the warning included a third paragraph which read: “In view of this situation, the Commission of Government wish to urge that men normally employed in the fishery should not leave it for other occupations, and should make every effort to carry on so that they may be assured a livelihood in 1943.” “Peak of Labour Employment Not Till Next Year,” Daily News (March 20, 1942). Editorial, “Somebody Blundered,” Evening Telegram (20 March 1942). L.E. Emerson, “Termination of Employment of Labour on Defense Works,” 13 February 1942, File: D 26/21/9, “Diversion of Labour to Work on US Army Bases,” GN 31/3A, PANL. Report of the Labour Relations Officer, June 1/42–February 8/44 (St. John’s, 1944).

4

“You Can’t Eat Dignity”

1. Joseph M. Jones, “Caribbean Laboratory,” Fortune Magazine (February 1944). 2. William H. Christensen, “Dignity versus Wages in the West Indies,” 24 April 1944, Box 7, RG 84: British West Indies, Antigua Consulate, General Records, 1941. NAR A. 3. Gerald Horne, Cold War in a Hot Zone: The United States Confronts Labor and Independence Struggles in the British West Indies (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 2007), 12. 4. Ibid., 51. 5. Harvey Neptune, Caliban and the Yankees: Trinidad and the US Occupation (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2007), 1. 6. R.O. Williams, “Administrative Report of the Director of Agriculture for the Year 1941,” August 7, 1942, Council Paper #31, Trinidad and Tobago Archives.

234

NOTES

7. J. Huggins, Acting Governor, April 24, 1942, “Message of His Excellence the Acting Governor to the Legislative Council,” Council Paper #7 of 1942. Trinidad and Tobago Archives. 8. “US Defence Work Creates Many Problems for Local Transport Facilities,” Trinidad Guardian (August 10, 1941), 10. 9. “Packed Train Runs Straight Through,” Trinidad Guardian (March 3, 1943), 3. 10. “Workmen Hurl Stones at Railway Stations and Halts,” Trinidad Guardian (September 18, 1941). 11. Editorial, “Unsafely First,” Trinidad Guardian (September 20, 1941). 12. Editorial, “A Problem Which Must Be Solved,” Trinidad Guardian (Tuesday, September 23, 1941). 13. “Government Studies Base Workers’ Transport Problem,” Trinidad Guardian (September 28, 1941), 1. 14. Henry Field. Trinidad, March 8–30, 1942. Box 57. RG 43. NAR A. See also B. Clifford, Governor of Trinidad to Secretary of State for the Colonies, January 22, 1944, DO 35/1736. PRO. In British Guiana, men building Atkinson Field left their Georgetown homes at 5:30 a.m. and traveled in overcrowded motor launches up the Demerara River and returned the same way at 8:00 p.m. or later. On January 17, 1944, the “Taffy H,” licensed to carry thirty passengers but carrying fifty to seventy-five people, met with disaster when the roof collapsed under the weight of fifteen to twenty-five people, throwing the boat’s occupants into the river. Fifteen bodies were recovered. An earlier disaster involved the boat, Village Girl that collided on the night of August 28, 1943 with a U.S. Navy boat, killing at least twelve. Each investigation recommended river navigation laws and enforcement but little was done. Mr. Kennedy’s Minute, August 7, 1943. File 81868. CO 971/2/4. PRO; Sir John Verity, Chief Justice, November 17, 1943, “Report on the Investigation into the Causes and Circumstances of an Accident to the Launch Village Girl in the Demerara River involving loss of live during the night of 28th/29th August, 1943,” British Guiana. Legislative Council Report # 5 of 1944. CO 971/2/4. PRO; and, Minute, 5 March 1944, File 81868. CO 971/2/4. PRO. 15. O. Nigel Bolland. The Politics of Labour in the British Caribbean (Princeton: Markus Wiener Publisher, 2001), Chapter 5. Kenneth Ballhatchet noted that English class attitudes were transformed into racial attitudes in India, see his: Race, Sex and Class under the Raj: Imperial Attitudes and Policies and Their Critics, 1793–1905 (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1980), 121. 16. Bolland, The Politics of Labour in the British Caribbean, 100. 17. Jay R. Mandle, The Plantation Economy: Population and Economic Change in Guyana, 1838–1960 (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1973), 68–69. 18. Eric Williams and E. Franklin Frazier, eds., The Economic Future of the Caribbean (Washington, DC: Howard University Press, 1944), 19. 19. The island’s substantial East Indian population was concentrated in the “sugar belt.” John P. Augelli and Harry W. Taylor, “Race and Population Patterns in Trinidad,” Annals of the Association of American Geographers 50, 2 (June 1960), 123–138. 20. F.A. Stockdale, Comptroller for Development and Welfare in the West Indies, 4 December 1940, CO 1042/336, Leeward Islands: Present Situation and Lines of Development.

NOTES

235

21. Stephen Constantine, The Making of British Colonial Development Policy, 1914–1940 (London: Frank Cass, 1984), 203. 22. Paul Blanshard, Democracy and Empire in the Caribbean (New York: Macmillan, 1947), 108. 23. “Report of the Committee Appointed to Enquire into the Sugar Industry,” February 7, 1944, Council Paper #1 of 1944. Trinidad and Tobago Archives. 24. Intelligence Report. Intelligence Division. Office of Chief of Naval Operations. Naval Department. 13 June 1942. From Alusio-Trinidad. File E 12–1 Labor, General, 1941–42. Box 41. RG 43. NAR A. 25. Georgetown, a city of 68,000, was situated at the mouth of the Demerara River. Juanita de Barros, Order and Place in a Colonial City: Patterns of Struggle and Resistance in Georgetown, British Guiana, 1889–1924 (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2002), 3. 26. Box 3. 1941, Volume 1. General Data on British Guiana. RG 84. British Guiana Consulate, General Records, 1940–47. NAR A. 27. C. M. Cook, Jr., to Deputy Chief of Staff. August 13, 1942. File: 4 Caribbean Sea Frontier. “Jamaica.” Box 210. Strategic Plans Division—Records. PostWar Planning and Sea Frontier Sections (Series XIV). NHC. 28. Paul Blanshard. “Notes from the British Leeward Islands, British Guiana and Trinidad.” May 25, 1944. File E11–10 Leeward Islands—Political— Civil Government. Box 40. RG 43. Anglo-American Caribbean Commission. NAR A. Its industry consisted of twenty-five limejuice factories, four sugar mills, three rum distilleries, and one bay oil distillery. Its major town was Castries, population 9,000: “as correct and clean as a Methodist mission.” John W. Vandercook, Caribbean Cruise: A Book of the West Indies (New York: Reynal and Hitchcock, 1938), 228. 29. Confidential File. War Department. Survey of the Lesser Antilles (less Martinique and Guadeloupe) Volume 1: Text. January 23, 1942. Box 25. RG 43. Anglo-American Caribbean Commission. NAR A. 30. The other units of the colony were Barbuda, Dominica, Monserrat, St. KittsNevis-Anguilla and the British Virgin Islands. Paul Blanshard. “Notes from the British Leeward Islands, British Guiana and Trinidad.” May 25, 1944. File E11–10 Leeward Islands—Political—Civil Government. Box 40. RG 43. Anglo-American Caribbean Commission. NAR A. See also Background Memorandum, File: “British West Indies: Background Information,” Eleanor Roosevelt Papers, Box 2984, Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library. 31. Howard Johnson, The Bahamas from Slavery to Servitude, 1783–1933 (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1996), 84. 32. Michael Craton and Gail Saunders, Islanders in the Stream: A History of the Bahamian People. Volume 2 (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1992), 275. 33. Bolland, The Politics of Labour in the British Caribbean, 163. 34. Blanshard, Democracy and Empire in the Caribbean, 57. 35. Bolland, The Politics of Labour in the British Caribbean, 164. 36. Bridget Brereton, “The White Elite of Trinidad,” in Howard Johson and Karl Watson, eds., The White Minority in the Caribbean (Oxford: James Currey Publications, 1998), 32–33. 37. Elizabeth Wallace, The British Caribbean: From the Decline of Colonialism to the End of Federation (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1977), 56.

236

NOTES

38. Jerry Dupont, The Common Law Abroad: Constitutional and Legal Legacy of the British Empire (Littleton, Colorado: Fred B. Rothman, 2001), xiv. Among the colonial officers appointed by the Colonial Office were the Governor, the colonial secretary, attorney general and chief justice. 39. O. Nigel Bolland, On the March: Labour Rebellions in the British Caribbean, 1934–1939 (Kingston: Ian Randle Publishers, 1995), and his The Politics of Labour in the British Caribbean (Princeton: Markus Wiener Publishers, 2001). In both books, Bolland notes that there were earlier waves of protest in the 1890s, 1916–19, and the 1920s. Critchlow’s British Guiana Labour Union was formed in 1919 (strongest on docks), making it the first legally recognized trade union in the British Caribbean. There was a virtual general strike in Georgetown in 1924 and police shot and killed twelve. 40. Bolland, On the March, 80. 41. Intelligence Report. Intelligence Division. Office of Chief of Naval Operations. Naval Department. 13 June 1942. From Alusio-Trinidad. File E 12–1 Labor, General, 1941–42. Box 41. RG 43. NAR A. 42. Harvey Neptune, “Forging Trinidad, Facing America: Colonial Trinidad and the United States Occupation, 1930–1947” (Ph.D. thesis, New York: New York University, 2002), 4. See also Bolland, The Politics of Labour in the British Caribbean, Chapter 5. 43. Michael Havinden and David Meredith, Colonialism and Development: Britain and its Tropical Colonies, 1850–1960 (London: Routledge, 1993), 197. 44. Stephen Constantine, The Making of British Colonial Development Policy, 1914–1940 (London: Frank Cass, 1984), 258–259. 45. Major G. St. J. Orde Browne, “Report on Labour Conditions in the West Indies,” December 1939, CO 884/26. PRO. 46. Ibid. 47. Bridget Brereton, A History of Modern Trinidad, 1783–1962 (Kingston: Heinemann, 1981), 184. 48. Elizabeth Wallace, The British Caribbean: From the Decline of Colonialism to the End of Federation (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1977), 43–49. 49. Stephen Constantine, The Making of British Colonial Development Policy, 1914–1940 (London: Frank Cass, 1984), 17. 50. G.H. Ord Brown, “Labour Relations in some parts of the West Indies,” 8 August 1941, CO 318/445/48. Labour Situation in the West Indies, 1940. PRO. 51. Adrian Rienzi, “Government and the American Bases,” New Dawn 1, 4 (February 1941), 29–30. 52. Fitzroy Andre Baptiste, War, Cooperation and Conflict: The European Possessions in the Caribbean, 1939–1945 (New York: Greenwood Press, 1988), 153. 53. Charles Taussig, 1941 Report, PSF File: Department File: State: Taussig Charles, Box 76, FDR Library. 54. Charles Taussig, Lt. Colonel A. F. Kibler, and Lt. Commander W.S. Campbell, Report of the United States Commission to Study Social and Economic Conditions in the British West Indies. Appointed by the President of the United States on November 13, 1940. File: Department File—State: Taussig, Charles, 1941 Report, Box 76 PSF. FDR Library.

NOTES

237

55. Jason Parker, “ ‘Capital of the Caribbean’: The African-American-WestIndian ‘Harlem Nexus’ and the Transnational Drive for Black Freedom, 1940–1948,” Journal of African American History 89 (2004), 106. 56. N.W. Manley to Charles Taussig, December 17, 1940, File E 14–1, Bases in Caribbean—Construction and Maintenance. Box 49. RG 43: AngloAmerican Caribbean Commission. NAR A. 57. V. L. Arnett, Secretary, PNP, 17 September 1940 to Colonial Secretary, Jamaica, File E 14–1, Bases in Caribbean—Construction and Maintenance. Box 49. RG 43: Anglo-American Caribbean Commission. NAR A. 58. Charles W. Taussig to President Franklin D. Roosevelt, “Report of the United States Commission to Study Social and Economic Conditions in the British West Indies,” January 7, 1941, Box 22, RG43: Anglo-American Caribbean Commission, 1940–46 and 1946–48. NAR A. 59. Thomas C. Holt, The Problem of Freedom: Race, Labor and Politics in Jamaica and Britain, 1832–1938 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992), 397. 60. Charles W. Taussig to President Franklin D. Roosevelt, “Report of the United States Commission to Study Social and Economic Conditions in the British West Indies,” January 7, 1941, Box 22, RG43: Anglo-American Caribbean Commission, 1940–46 and 1946–48. NAR A. 61. Ibid. 62. Franklin D. Roosevelt to Secretaries of War and Navy, March 19, 1941, File: Naval Bases, 1940–43, Box 1, OF 4101, FDR Library. 63. Frank Knox, Secretary of the Navy to Commanding Officers of All Naval and Marine Corps in Bermuda and Caribbean, April 14, 1941, File: Naval Bases, 1940–43, Box 1, OF 4101, FDR Library. 64. Directive Issued by War Department to All Personnel Concerned, File: Naval Bases, 1940–43, Box 1, OF 4101, FDR Library. 65. Blanshard, Democracy and Empire in the Caribbean. 66. Carlton Hurst, U.S. Consul, British Guiana, October 28, 1943, File: Confidential 1943, Box 2, RG 84: British Guiana Confidential Reports, 1940–1947. NAR A. 67. Paul Blanshard, U.S. Consulate in Kingston, Jamaica to Charles W. Taussig, Chairperson of the Anglo-American Caribbean Commission. December 28, 1943. F. E11–9. Jamaica-Political-Civil Government, 1941–43. Box 40. RG 43. Anglo-American Caribbean Commission. NAR A. The issue dragged on as Captain W.W. Tyson, the offending party, subsequently employed fifteen residents, all of whom were “whitish.” NAR A. RG 43. Anglo-American Caribbean Commission. Box 40. F. E11–9. JamaicaPolitical-Civil Government, 1941–43. December 14, 1943. Paul Blanshard, U.S. Consulate in Kingston, Jamaica to Charles W. Taussig, Chairperson of the Anglo-American Caribbean Commission. 68. J. Huggins, Governor of Jamaica to Secretary of State for the Colonies, February 13, 1945, No 72021/49 [No 43]. PRO. 69. A.R. Thomas, Colonial Office to Lt. Colonel J.Y.E. Myrtle, November 8, 1941, CO 971/20/2. PRO. 70. J. Huggins to H.F. Downie, September 12, 1941, CO 971/20/2. PRO. 71. William Hastie, Member to Chairman. July 16, 1942. File A13–1 (k) President’s Caribbean Advisory Board. Box 28. RG 43. NAR A. 72. Ibid.

238

NOTES

73. A.V.S. Pickhardt, Captain, Assistant Director, Intelligence Group to Secretary of State, June 18, 1943, “Racial Trouble in Jamaica,” File: A7–1: Intelligence-Collection and Dissemination of,” Box 22, RG 43: AngloAmerican Caribbean Commission, 1940–46 and 1946–48. NAR A. 74. Blanshard, Democracy and Empire in the Caribbean, 100. 75. H.P. Hevenor, “Complaints of the British Administrator of the Island of St. Lucia,” July 19, 1941, File: Caribbean Commission—U.S. Section, Reports and Memoranda, Box 34, Taussig Collection. Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library (hereafter FDR Library). Hyde Park, New York. 76. For example, see Criminal Offences. Leeward Islands. CO 971/20/6. PRO. 77. H. M. White, Consultant, Defense Projects Unit to Under-Secretary of the Navy, September 29, 1941, File: FE 14–1 Bases in Caribbean—Construction and Maintenance, Box 49, RG 43: Anglo-American Caribbean Commission. NAR A. 78. Military Police only had authority over enlisted men. H.M. White, Consultant, Defense Projects Unit to Under-Secretary of the Navy, September 29, 1941, File: FE 14–1 Bases in Caribbean—Construction and Maintenance, Box 49, RG 43: Anglo-American Caribbean Commission. NAR A. 79. Ilo C. Funk, U.S. Consul, Barbados to Claude H. Hall, U.S. Consul, Trinidad, September 11, 1941, RG 84 Trinidad General Records, 1941–44. NAR A. 80. The Antiguan Magnet (May 14, 1942). 81. William H. Christensen, American Vice Consul, “Report of Wounding on the United States Army Base Reservation in Antigua, BWI of 3 British Subjects,” June 5, 1944. Box 6. RG 84. British West Indies, Antigua Consulate, General Records, 1941. NAR A. 82. William H. Christensen, American Vice Consul, May 16, 1944. Box 6. RG 84. British West Indies, Antigua Consulate, General Records, 1941. NAR A. 83. Frank A. Schuler, Jr., U.S. Consul General, Antigua, May 28, 1942, Box 3796, 811.34544, RG 59, NAR A. 84. December 1943 Quarterly Report, July 5, 1944, “Trinidad Quarterly Reports,” CO 971/23/5 PRO. 85. Horne, Cold War in a Hot Zone, 60. 86. Ibid., 62. 87. Service Officer’s Report, Periodical Reports of Incident, U.S. Bases— Secretary of State’s Windward islands Despatch No 131 of October 1, 1943. CO 971/21/7. PRO. 88. “Racial Question in Connection with Caribbean Bases,” May 28, 1946, File: E 14–4 Bases in Caribbean—Public Reaction, Box 49, RG 43: AngloAmerican Caribbean Commission. NAR A. 89. B. Clifford, Governor of Trinidad to Secretary of State for the Colonies, January 22, 1944, DO 35/1736. PRO. 90. Governor of Trinidad to British Colonial Supply Mission, April 15, 1943, Trinidad Governor’s Letters Volume 1939–41. Trinidad and Tobago Archives. 91. F. Degazon, Assistant Administrator, St. Lucia, Periodical Reports of Incident, U.S. Bases—Secretary of State’s Windward islands Despatch No 131 of October 1, 1943. CO 971/21/7. PRO.

NOTES

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92. David Reynolds, The Creation of the Anglo-American Alliance, 1937–1941: A Study in Comparative Cooperation (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1982). 93. Jason Parker, “ ‘Capital of the Caribbean’: The African-American-WestIndian ‘Harlem Nexus’ and the Transnational Drive for Black Freedom, 1940–1948,” Journal of African American History 89 (2004), 98–117. 94. Clark H. Galloway, Lt. Colonel, Chief, Washington Office, American Intelligence Service to S. Burns Weston, Secretary, U.S. Section, AngloAmerican Caribbean Commission. May 27, 1943. File E12–1 Labor General, 1943. Box 41. RG 43. NAR A. 95. Minute, 30 March 1945, CO 971/27 U.S. Bases: Information for Cabinet. PRO. 96. Building the Navy’s Bases in World War II: History of the Bureau of Yards and Docks ad the Civil Engineering Corps, 1940–46, Volume 2 (Washington, DC: Government Printing, 1947). 97. “The Labor Situation in St. Lucia,” September 28, 1942, File E 14–1, Bases in Caribbean—Construction and Maintenance. Box 49. RG 43: AngloAmerican Caribbean Commission. NAR A. 98. Charles W. Taussig to President Franklin D. Roosevelt, “Report of the United States Commission to Study Social and Economic Conditions in the British West Indies,” January 7, 1941, Box 22, RG43: Anglo-American Caribbean Commission, 1940–46 and 1946–48. NAR A. 99. Neptune, “Forging Trinidad, Facing America,” 214. 100. Governor H. Young, Trinidad to Secretary of State for the Colonies, May 20, 1941, CO 971/2/1. PRO. 101. Ralph Mentor, Secretary, Trinidad Trades Union Council, February 10, 1941, CO 971/2/1. PRO. 102. “The Yanks Have Come,” New Dawn (May–June 1941). 103. Extract from House of Commons Report, August 6, 1941, CAB 21/1913, Committee on United States Bases: Policy. 104. J. Hibbert, “Minute,” October 24, 1941, CO 971/20/3, Leases to the United States. Correspondence with Mr. Creech-Jones. PRO. 105. Arthur Creech Jones to G.H. Hall, October 8, 1941, CO 971/20/3. PRO 106. The myth was used to justify compulsion and unjust practices. Sayed Hussein Alatas, The Myth of the Lazy Native (London: Frank Cass, 1977), 2. See also Edward Said, Culture and Imperialism (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1993), 255. It should therefore come as no surprise that the myth would be employed in the Second World War to conscript nonwhite labor for plantation work in Kenya, Tanganyika, and the Rhodesias as well as in the tin mines of Nigeria. The notion of the “African loafer” can be found in David Johnson, World War II and the Scramble for Labour in Colonial Zimbabwe, 1939–1943 (Harare: University of Zimbabwe Publications, 2000), 74. See also David Killingray, “Labour Exploitation for Military Campaigns in British Colonial Africa, 1870–1945,” Journal of Contemporary History 24 (1989), 490. 107. January 23, 1943. , Confidential File, War Department. Survey of the Lesser Antilles (less Martinique and Guadeloupe) Volume 1: Text. Box 25. RG 43: Anglo-American Caribbean Commission, NAR A. 108. Memorandum Department of State—Division of European Affairs, August 15, 1941, File: 811.34544/1221 Box 3792, RG 59: Department of State, Decimal Files, 1940–44. NAR A.

240

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109. “Little Arthur’s Afterthought,” New Dawn 1, 11 (October 1941), 2–4. 110. Walter White, Secretary of the NAACP to Charles Taussig, June 12, 1942, File E 14–1, Bases in Caribbean—Construction and Maintenance. Box 49. RG 43: Anglo-American Caribbean Commission. NAR A. 111. The building of the bases fostered trade unionism in the Bahamas where the government sought to peg wages to those prevailing in 1936. Michael Craton and Gail Saunders, Islanders in the Stream: A History of the Bahamian People, Volume 2 (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1992), 286. 112. Executive Council of Antigua, “Wage Rates of Unskilled Labour on American Bases,” Box 3792, 811.34544, RG 59: Decimal file, 1940–44. NAR A. 113. Hubert Critchlow, General Secretary to Colonial Secretary, British Guiana, January 17, 1941, 811.34544, Box 3790, RG 59: Decimal File, 1940–44. NAR A. 114. Man-power Citizens’ Association to President Franklin D. Roosevelt, March 21, 1941, 811.34544, Box 3790, RG 59: Decimal File, 1940–44. NAR A. 115. Footnote 308. 116. Governor Richards, Jamaica, to Lord Moyne, Secretary of State for the Colonies, CO 971/2/1. PRO. Ken Post, Strike the Iron: A Colony at War, Jamaica 1939–1945 (The Hague: Institute of Social Studies, 1981), 187. 117. The laborers at Chaguaramas were estimated to be 90 percent Creole in contrast to the equal numbers of Creoles and East Indians employed at the Fort Read army base. From Alusio-Trinidad June 13, 1942. File E 12–1 Labor, General, 1941–42. Intelligence Report. Intelligence Division. Office of Chief of Naval Operations. Naval Department. Box 41. RG 43. NAR A. 118. Quintin O’Connor quoted in U.S. Intelligence Report. Office of Chief of Naval Operations. June 25, 1942. Box 1, RG 84 Foreign Consulates, Port of Spain (Trinidad). NAR A. 119. Intelligence Report. Intelligence Division. Office of Chief of Naval Operations. Lt. (USNR) Curtis Dawes “RE. Trinidad, BWI, Social Forces.” June 25, 1942. Box 1. RG 84. Port of Spain (Trinidad, BWI) Consulate. NAR A. 120. At around the same time, the local chief of police furnished “strictly confidential” information on O’Connor, saying that the “Creole” and “Communist” was actively organizing base workers into a union. Average attendance at his meetings was estimated at 75 to 150 people. J.C. Holmes, April 22, 1942, Box 1, RG 84 Foreign Consulates, Port of Spain (Trinidad). NAR A. 121. Albert Gomes to Mr. Field, July 8, 1942, Box 1, RG 84 Foreign Consulates, Port of Spain (Trinidad). NAR A. 122. Ken Post, Strike the Iron: A Colony at War, Jamaica 1939–1945 (The Hague: Institute of Social Studies, 1981), 170. 123. Intelligence Report, Intelligence Division, Office of Chief of Naval Operations. Naval Department, June 13, 1942. From Alusio-Trinidad, File E 12–1 Labor, General, 1941–42. Box 41. RG 43. NAR A. 124. A.G.V. Linden, Industrial Advisor, “Administrative Report for the Year 1942,” Council Paper #29 of 1943. Trinidad and Tobago Archives 125. Donald Yerxa, Admirals and Empire: The United States Navy and the Caribbean, 1898–1945 (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1991), 132.

NOTES

241

126. Eric Williams, “British Possessions,” in Dantes Bellegarde, Heloise Brinerd, and Bailey W. Diffie, Economic Problems of the Caribbean Area (New York: Latin American Economic Institute, 1943). 127. J. Merle Davis, The East Indian Church in Trinidad: Report of a Survey of the Economic and Social Position of the East Indian Church in Trinidad made for the Board of the Foreign Mission of the United Church of Canada (New York: 1942). 128. “Flour Shortage in Trinidad,” Trinidad Guardian (June 2, 1942). 129. Henry Field. Trinidad, March 8–30, 1942. Box 57. RG 43. NAR A; The Caribbean Islands and the War: A Record of Progress in Facing Stern Realities (Washington, DC: Government Printing). File: A8–1 (d) Caribbean Islands and the War, General Correspondence. Box 23. RG 43. Anglo-American Caribbean Commission. NAR A. 130. Ibid., 5. 131. Eric Williams, “British Possessions,” in Dantes Bellegarde, Heloise Brainerd, and Bailey W. Diffie, Economic Problems of Caribbean Area (New York: Latin American Economic Institute, 1943). 132. “The Labor Situation in St. Lucia,” 28 September 1942, File E 14–1, Bases in Caribbean—Construction and Maintenance. Box 49. RG 43: AngloAmerican Caribbean Commission. NAR A. 133. B. Clifford, Governor of Trinidad to Secretary of State for the Colonies, January 22, 1944, DO 35/1736. PRO. 134. Governor quoted in Hansard. February 5, 1943. 135. A.G.V. Linden, Industrial Advisor, “Administrative Report for the Year 1942,” Council Paper #29 of 1943. Trinidad and Tobago Archives. Also “Report of the Committee Appointed to Enquire into the Sugar Industry,” Part I: Summary of Alternative Proposals, February 7, 1944, Council Paper #1 of 1944. Trinidad and Tobago Archives. 136. R.O. Williams, “Agriculture Administration Report of the Direction of Agriculture for the Year 1942,” June 9, 1943, Council Paper #57 of 1943, Trinidad and Tobago Archives. 137. “Trinidad Sugar Decline,” London Times (July 17, 1943), 9. 138. Ibid., 8. 139. “Report of the Committee Appointed to Enquire into the Sugar Industry,” February 7, 1944, Council Paper #1 of 1944. Trinidad and Tobago Archives. 140. “Trinidad Sugar Industry,” London Times (January 27, 1943), 9. 141. “Trinidad Sugar and Cocoa,” London Times (May 22, 1942), 9 142. Rienzi quoted in Hansard. 1942. January 20, 1942. 143. Colonial Secretary’s Office, Trinidad to American Consulate, February 20, 1942, Volume 7 (1942), Box 33, RG 84: Port of Spain Consulate. General Trinidad Records. NAR A. 144. American Consul, “Barbadian Labor in Trinidad,” April 20, 1942, Volume 7 (1942), Box 33, RG 84: Port of Spain Consulate. General Trinidad Records. NAR A 145. Ibid. 146. “U.S. Bases Employees to Be Cut Gradually,” Trinidad Guardian (July 23, 1943), 1. 147. Gustave Ring, Lt. Colonel, Corps of Engineers, Acting District Director to Walsh Construction Company and George F. Driscoll Company, Fort Read,

242

148.

149. 150.

151. 152. 153. 154. 155.

156.

157.

158.

159. 160.

NOTES

Trinidad. July 16, 1942. File 834.5. Box 32. RG 84. Trinidad Consulate General Records, 1941–1944. NAR A. While the bases employed 23,000 in July 1942, that number had declined to 11,000 by March 1943. Building the Navy’s Bases in World War II: History of the Bureau of Yards and Docks ad the Civil Engineering Corps, 1940–46, Volume 2 (Washington, DC: Government Printing, 1947). U.S. Bases. British Guiana. Quarterly Reports. June 1–September 30, 1944. CO 971/24/9. PRO. Charles H. Whitaker, American Vice Consul, St. George’s Grenada, “Unrest in Vieux Fort, St. Lucia,” June 7, 1944, 811.34544/6–744, Box 3801, RG 59: Decimal Files, 1940–44. NAR A. Ibid. Ibid. V.C. Bird, The Antigua Star (May 11, 1944). A.G.V. Lindon, “Adminstrative Report for the Year 1943,” October 27, 1944, Council Papers #46 of 1943. Trinidad and Tobago Archives. He suggested that there were few “pure” whites in the region and that legal Jim Crow did not exist. “Exclusive clubs and hotels discriminate, but they do so cautiously.” W. Adolphe Roberts, “Caribbean Headaches,” The Nation (September 20, 1941). “Racial Question in Connection with Caribbean Bases,” May 28, 1946, File: E 14–4 Bases in Caribbean—Public Reaction,” Box 49, RG 43: AngloAmerican Caribbean Commission. NAR A. “The Labor Situation in St. Lucia,” September 28, 1942, File E 14–1, Bases in Caribbean—Construction and Maintenance. Box 49. RG 43: AngloAmerican Caribbean Commission. NAR A. There had been Caribbean-wide meetings of trade unions in 1926 and 1938 held in British Guiana. Another was held in 1944. O. Nigel Bolland, On the March, 2; Bolland, The Politics of Labour in the British Caribbean, 477. Attending from Antigua were Harold Wilson (editor of Antiguan Magnet), Cornwall Bird (President of Antiguan Trade and Labour Union [ATLU]), and J. Olivier Davis (ATLU); from St. Lucia was C. Augustin (President General of the St. Lucia Workers Cooperative Union), in attendance from Jamaica were Richard Hart (Jamaican Government Railway Employees Union / executive of People’s National Party); from Grenada, from St. Vincent, from Barbados, from Surinam, from St. Kitts; from Trinidad were Vivian Henry (Trinidad Labour Party), A. Gomes (MLC, Federated Workers Union), D Mahon (FWU), R. Mentor (General Secretary of the Oilfield Workers’ Union; General Secretary of Trade Union Council of Trinidad and Tobago); from British Guiana were H. Critchlow (MLC, General Secretary of British Guiana Labour Union), T. Lee (MLC) and A. A. Thorne (MLC); and from Bermuda was Dr. Edgar F. Gordon (President of the Bermuda Workers Association). File: Secret Caribbean Labor Conference of 1945. Box 3. RG 84. Port of Spain (Trinidad, BWI) Consulate. NAR A. Caribbean Labor Congress, 1945, File: Confidential—Material, 1945, Box 3: Confidential Files, 1944–47, RG 84. NAR A. Quoted in Blanshard, Democracy and Empire in the Caribbean, 126.

NOTES

243

5 Building Bases on a Jim Crow Island 1. Admiral Greenslade, “Social and Economic Conditions in Bermuda,” October 26, 1940, 811.34544, Box 3788, RG 59 Decimal Files, 1940–44. NAR A. 2. Ibid. 3. William H. Beck, American Consul General, “Annual Political Review— Bermuda,” December 31, 1940, File 1940L 879.7, Box 3, RG 84: Bermuda. General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 4. Admiral Greenslade, “Social and Economic Conditions in Bermuda,” October 26, 1940, 811.34544, Box 3788, RG 59 Decimal Files, 1940–44. NAR A. 5. Hector C. Adam, Jr., American Vice Consul, “The Social, Economic and Strategic Consequences of the Proposed New Taxation in Bermuda,” October 7, 1942, File: 1941, 800–834.5, Box 4, RG 84: Bermuda. General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 6. April 10, 1944, File 319.1 Periodic Reports (S-2 Reports), Box 51, RG 338. Bermuda Base Command. NAR A. 7. “Post War Bermuda,” The Recorder (March 7, 1945). 8. Colonial Secretary, Minute, December 21, 1940, File: 1279 Illegitimacy. Bermuda Archives. 9. Admiral Greenslade, “Social and Economic Conditions in Bermuda,” October 26, 1940, 811.34544, Box 3788, RG 59 Decimal Files, 1940–44. NAR A. 10. Hector C. Adam, Jr., American Vice Consul, “The Social, Economic and Strategic Consequences of the Proposed New Taxation in Bermuda,” October 7, 1942, File: 1941, 800–834.5, Box 4, RG 84: Bermuda. General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 11. Robert (no last name), Office of Commandant, U.S. Naval Operating Base, Bermuda to Charles Taussig, October 20, 1942, File: Caribbean Commission—U.S. Section—Miscellaneous. Box 36, Taussig Papers, FDR Library. 12. Lawrence A. Nurse, Trade Unionism and Industrial Relations in the Commonwealth Caribbean: History, Contemporary Practice and Prospect (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1992), 96; O. Nigel Bolland, On the March: Labour Rebellions in the British Caribbean, 1934–1939 (Kingston: Ian Randle, 1995); 13. It has been suggested that the fund was a metropolitan solution which ignored local contexts. See J.E. Lewis, “ ‘Tropical East Ends’ and the Second World War: Some Contradictions in Colonial Welfare Initiatives,” The Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History 28, 2 (May 2000), 42. 14. Colonial Secretary, Minute, February 19, 1940, File: E137 Labour Legislation—General Policy, 1938–51. Bermuda Archives. 15. J. Henry Richardson, Bermuda Economic Advisory Committee to Colonial Secretary, June 1, 1942, File: E137: Labour Legislation—General Policy, 1938–51. Bermuda Archives. 16. Hector C. Adam, Jr., American Vice Consul, “The Social, Economic and Strategic Consequences of the Proposed New Taxation in Bermuda,” October 7, 1942, File: 1941, 800–834.5, Box 4, RG 84: Bermuda. General Records, 1936–49. NAR A.

244

NOTES

17. Clay Merrell, American Vice Consul, “Annual Economic Review,” July 15, 1941, File: 1941: 850–885, Box 4, RG 84: Foreign Service. Bermuda General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 18. Admiral Greenslade, “Social and Economic Conditions in Bermuda,” October 26, 1940, 811.34544, Box 3788, RG 59 Decimal Files, 1940–44. NAR A. 19. Clay Merrell, American Vice Consul, “Annual Economic Review,” July 15, 1941, File: 1941: 850–885, Box 4, RG 84: Foreign Service. Bermuda General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 20. Edwin W. Martin, American Vice Consul, “The Labor Situation in Bermuda,” October 13, 1941, File: 1941: 850–885, Box 4, RG 84: Foreign Service. Bermuda General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 21. Board of Experts on Naval and Air Bases in British Possessions in the Western Hemisphere to Secretary of the Navy, “Supplementary Report— Bermuda,” October 26, 1940, File: Board of Experts on Naval and Air Bases, Box 73, RG 338, Bermuda Base Command, NAR A. 22. There is a rich literature on the Panama Canal Zone: D. McCullough, The Path between the Seas (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1977); John Major, Prize Possession: The United States and the Panama Canal, 1903–1979 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1993); Michael L. Conniff, Panama and the United States: The Forced Alliance (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2001); See especially Michael L. Conniff, Black Labor on a White Canal: Panama, 1904–1981 (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1985). 23. Edwin W. Martin, American Vice Consul, “Annual Economic Review,” April 28, 1942, File: 1941, 800–834.5, Box 4, RG 84: Bermuda. General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 24. Peter Neary, “ ‘A Mortgaged Property’: The Impact of the United States on Newfoundland, 1940–49,” in James Hiller and Peter Neary, eds., TwentiethCentury Newfoundland: Explorations (St. John’s: Breakwater, 1994). See also Neary’s Newfoundland in the North Atlantic World (Montreal: McGillQueen’s University Press, 1988). 25. “The History of Naval Facilities in Bermuda,” August 24, 1951, Box 10, Field Liaison and Records Section. Base Maintenance Division, 1930–1965, NHC. The Bermuda base contractors employed 400 Cubans, 125 Canadians, and 3,600 Americans. A policy change in April 1943 resulted in an order that all naval construction in the base colonies be conducted by Sea Bee Construction Battalions. In Bermuda, the 31st Battalion numbering 27 officers and 1027 enlisted men took over the bulk of the labor in November 1942. 26. Walter White, Secretary of the NAACP, wrote Cordell Hull in April 1941 to protest reports that the British government had requested United States “not to send any Negroes regardless of qualifications to work in Trinidad, or any other islands in the Caribbean.” He asked if any such request had been received—“in writing, verbally or in any other fashion”—and if the United States had entered into any such agreement. Walter White, Secretary, NAACP, to Cordell Hull, April 23, 1941, Box 3791, RG 59. 811.34544. NAR A. 27. William H. Beck, American Consul General to Secretary of State. November 1, 1944. Box 3802, 811.34544. RG 59. NAR A.

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28. William H. Beck, American Consul General in Bermuda to the Secretary of State, November 1, 1944, File: “Hamilton, Bermuda, 1943–48,” RG 84: Bermuda Records R. Bases Leased by the United States in Bermuda, 1941, 42–48 (1943–48). NAR A. 29. Bates Raney, Military Intelligence, Memorandum, October 17, 1944, File: 230.14: Hire of Employees (conference) #2, Box 33, RG 332: Bermuda Base Command, NAR A. 30. Griffith C. Evans, Jr., Officer in Charge, USS YP-61, to Commanding Officer, Fort Bell, August 15, 1943, File 291.2 Race, Box 43, RG 338 BBC. NAR A. 31. A.G. Strong, Brigadier General, Commanding BBC to Commandant of U.S. Naval Operating Base, August 17, 1943, File 291.2 Race, Box 43, RG 338 BBC. NAR A. 32. Adjunct S-1, Minute, March 4, 1943. “Places Off Limits.” File 000.2 Places Off Limits, Box 17, RG 338 Records of U.S. Army Command Bermuda Base Command (BBC). NAR A. 33. Senior Patrol Officer to Commanding Officer, Naval Operating Base Bermuda, March 25, 1945, File 000.2 Places Off Limits, Box 17, RG 338 Records of US Army Command Bermuda Base Command (BBC). NAR A. 34. Commanding General. Memorandum. June 14, 1945, File 291.1 Marriages. Box 43, RG 338 BBC. NAR A. 35. August 3, 1944. Paul A. Kenney, Colonel, Medical Corps, Base Surgeon. File 319.112. Reports, Sanitary Monthly. Box 56. RG 338. Bermuda Base Command. NAR A. 36. November 3–12, 1940. Sanitary Survey of Bermuda. Captain Harry Baker, Sanitary Corps. File 333: Inspection and Investigations by IG and Other Government Officers, 1941–42. Box 69. RG 338. NAR A. 37. March 3, 1943. J.H. Van Marter, Ltn. Colonel, Medical Corps, Base Surgeon. File 319.112. Reports, Sanitary, Monthly. Box 56. RG 338. NAR A. 38. J. Henry Richardson, Economic Adviser to the Bermuda Government. Review of Economic Conditions, Policy and Organization in Bermuda, February 1943, CO 37/29416: Review of Economic Conditions, Policy and Organization by Prof. J. Richardson. Comments on the Report. PRO. 39. Meeting Minutes, November 25, 1940, E137: Labour Legislation—General Policy, 1938–51. Bermuda Archives. 40. Minutes, November 25, 1940, F085: Local Labor Board (Wage rates, hours), 1940–43, Box 23, RG 338 Bermuda Base Command in Record of U.S. Army. Classified General Records. NAR A. 41. William H. Beck, American Consul General, February 3, 1942, File: 1941, 800–834.5, Box 4, RG 84: Bermuda. General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 42. History of the War, 1939–1945, Volume 1, Microfilm. Bermuda Archives. 43. William H. Beck, American Consul General, “Annual Political Review,” February 15, 1945, File 1945: 131–834.5, Box 6, RG 84: Bermuda. General Reports, 1936–49. NAR A. 44. Stanley Spurling to Colonial Secretary, February 25, 1941, E134: Labour Market—General Policy (Conscription of Labour). Bermuda Archives. 45. Governor to Secretary of State, September 1, 1941, E137: Labour Legislation—General Policy, 1938–51. Bermuda Archives.

246

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46. Edwin W. Martin, American Vice Consul, “The Labor Situation in Bermuda,” October 13, 1941, File: 1941: 850–885, Box 4, RG 84: Foreign Service. Bermuda General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 47. A.W. Betts, Lt. Colonel, Corps of Engineers to Commanding General, Bermuda Base Command, June 16, 1943, “History of Bermuda Engineering District,” U.S. Army War Diary File. Bermuda Archives. 48. Governor to Secretary of State, September 1, 1941, E137: Labour Legislation—General Policy, 1938–51. Bermuda Archives. 49. William H. Beck, American Consul General, February 3, 1942, File: 1941, 800–834.5, Box 4, RG 84: Bermuda. General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 50. Governor to Secretary of State, September 1, 1941, E137: Labour Legislation—General Policy, 1938–51. Bermuda Archives. 51. “Approximate Number of Bermudian Workpeople Employed in Main Occupations,” 1941 Registration, E134: Labour Market—General Policy (Conscription of Labour). Bermuda Archives. 52. Edwin W. Martin, American Vice Consul, “The Labor Situation in Bermuda,” October 13, 1941, Box 5067, RG 59. NAR A. 53. Labour Board Meeting, Minutes, July 14, 1941, File: E162 Labour Board Minutes of Meetings, 1941–49. Bermuda Archives. 54. Edwin W. Martin, American Vice Consul, “The Labor Situation in Bermuda,” October 13, 1941, File: 1941: 850–885, Box 4, RG 84: Foreign Service. Bermuda General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 55. Labour Board Meeting, Minutes, August 11, 1941, File: E162 Labour Board Minutes of Meetings, 1941–49. Bermuda Archives. 56. Ibid., August 17, 1941. 57. Ibid., September 16, 1941. 58. Edwin W. Martin, American Vice Consul, “The Labor Situation in Bermuda,” October 13, 1941, File: 1941: 850–885, Box 4, RG 84: Foreign Service. Bermuda General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 59. Labour Board Meeting, Minutes, October 13, 1941, File: E162 Labour Board Minutes of Meetings, 1941–49. Bermuda Archives. 60. Acting Governor, Minute, August 4, 1943, File: 654/C2 “Barbadian Labour Importation of.” Bermuda Archives. 61. Edwin W. Martin, American Vice Consul, “The Labor Situation in Bermuda,” October 13, 1941, File: 1941: 850–885, Box 4, RG 84: Foreign Service. Bermuda General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 62. Labour Board Meeting, Minutes, November 17, 1941, File: E162 Labour Board Minutes of Meetings, 1941–49. Bermuda Archives. 63. Ibid., December 10, 1941. 64. Partial Document that stands alone in file. File: 1941: 850–885, Box 4, RG 84: Foreign Service. Bermuda General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 65. Edwin W. Martin, American Vice Consul, “Annual Economic Review,” April 28, 1942, File: 1941, 800–834.5, Box 4, RG 84: Bermuda. General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 66. Labour Board Meeting, Minutes, June 1, 1942, File: E162 Labour Board Minutes of Meetings, 1941–49. Bermuda Archives. 67. Ibid., March 6, 1942. 68. Ibid., February 17, 1942. 69. Ibid., September 22, 1941.

NOTES

247

70. “The Essential Work (General) Order, 1942,” File: 085: Local Labor Board (wage rates, hours), 1940–43, Box 23, RG 338 Bermuda Base Command, NAR A. 71. Labour Board Meeting, Minutes, October 13, 1941, File: E162 Labour Board Minutes of Meetings, 1941–49. Bermuda Archives. 72. Ibid., October 6, 1941. 73. Minutes of Meeting, July 6, 1943, File: E189/B: Manpower Commission Minutes, 1943. Bermuda Archives. 74. Ibid., July 20, 1943. 75. August 2, 1943, File 319.114. Intelligence Reports. Weekly #2. Box 56. RG 338. BBC. NAR A. 76. Basil F. Macgowan, “Annual Review of Economic Conditions in Bermuda— 1943,” October 31, 1944, File: 1944: 85–892.51, Box 5, RG 84: Bermuda. General Reports, 1936–49. NAR A. 77. E189/A: Manpower Commission, 1943–44. Bermuda Archives. Those women who met the colony’s exacting property qualifications won the right to vote in 1944. 78. November 29, 1943, File 319.1 Periodic Reports (S-2 Reports), Box 51, RG 338: Bermuda Base Command. NAR A. 79. Edwin W. Martin, American Vice Consul, “Economic Review—Bermuda, Third Quarter, 1941,” October 30, 1941, File: 1941: 850–885, Box 4, RG 84: Foreign Service. Bermuda General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 80. Edwin W. Martin, American Vice Consul, “Annual Economic Review,” April 28, 1942, File: 1941, 800–834.5, Box 4, RG 84: Bermuda. General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 81. Ibid. 82. Hector C. Adam, Jr., American Vice Consul, “The Social, Economic and Strategic Consequences of the Proposed New Taxation in Bermuda,” October 7, 1942, File: 1941, 800–834.5, Box 4, RG 84: Bermuda. General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 83. Hector C. Adam, Jr., American Vice Consul, “Economic Review—Bermuda, Second Quarter, 1942,” September 5, 1942, File: 1941, 800–834.5, Box 4, RG 84: Bermuda. General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 84. Edwin W. Martin, American Vice Consul, “Economic Review—Bermuda, Third Quarter, 1941,” October 30, 1941, File: 1941: 850–885, Box 4, RG 84: Foreign Service. Bermuda General Records, 1936–49. NAR A. 85. G.H. Cantle, shipwright to Commodore, December 8, 1941, File: E-53: Rent Restrictions, 1941–54. Bermuda Archives. 86. R.A. Houghson, shipwright, to Commodore, December 8, 1941, File: E-53: Rent Restrictions, 1941–54. Bermuda Archives 87. Reginald Perryman to tenants, December 1, 1941, File: E-53: Rent Restrictions, 1941–54. Bermuda Archives. 88. Mrs. Hastings Talbot, August 24, 1943, File: E-53: Rent Restrictions, 1941–54. Bermuda Archives. 89. “Rents Restriction Bill Is Put Aside by House,” Royal Gazette and Colonist Daily (January 12, 1943). 90. Major J.E. Tilton, Memorandum, January 23, 1943, File: 085: Local Labor Board (wage rates, hours), 1940–43, Box 23, RG 338 Bermuda Base Command, NAR A.

248

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91. Minutes of Meeting of Joint Army-Navy Wage Board, April 23, 1943, File: 085: Local Labor Board (wage rates, hours), 1940–43, Box 23, RG 338 Bermuda Base Command, NAR A. 92. Major Glenn A. Rafferty, Corps of Engineers to Commanding General, Bermuda Base Command, June 16, 1943, File: 230 Employees (conference), Box 33, RG 332 Bermuda Base Command, NAR A. 93. Labour Board Meeting, Minutes, May 28, 1943, File: E162 Labour Board Minutes of Meetings, 1941–49. Bermuda Archives. 94. General A.G. Strong to American Consul General, July 1, 1943, File: 085: Local Labor Board (wage rates, hours), 1940–43, Box 23, RG 338 Bermuda Base Command, NAR A. 95. Labour Board Meeting, Minutes, June 11, 1943, File: E162 Labour Board Minutes of Meetings, 1941–49. Bermuda Archives. 96. “Wage Decreases Put in at Naval Air Station,” Royal Gazette and Colonist (June 20, 1944). 97. Labour Board Meeting, Minutes, June 29, 1944, File: E162 Labour Board Minutes of Meetings, 1941–49. Bermuda Archives. 98. William H. Beck, American Consul General, “Annual Political Review,” 15 February 1945, File 1945: 131–834.5, Box 6, RG 84: Bermuda. General Reports, 1936–49. NAR A; See also Bermuda. History of the War, 1939– 1945, Bound Copy 1943, Volume 2, July–December 1943. 99. Prior to that point, there was some indication that employers purposely under-reported their wage rates to ensure that the Board’s wage schedules were below actual rates. 100. Executive Council Minute, August 8, 1945, File: E139/C: Labour Board— Staff. Bermuda Archives. 101. October 25, 1943. Bates Raney, Major, Military Intelligence. S-2. File 319.114. Intelligence Reports. Box 56. RG 338. Bermuda Base Command. NAR A. 102. File 230.746. Box 38. RG 338. NAR A. 103. Governor of Bermuda to Colonial Office. February 10, 1942. CO 971/20/8. PRO. 104. File: Private Mifford Simon, 1944. Box 10. RG 338. Records of U.S. Army Commands, 1942–. NAR A. 105. File: Staff Sergeant Samuel A. Sherna, SCMO #112. 1943. Box 10. RG 338. NAR A. 106. See file: S32/2/2: Racial Discrimination. Bermuda Archives. Jim Crow was challenged by a growing number of black Bermudians. In March 1945, police ejected a nonwhite man from the Playhouse for sitting in the “wrong seat” in the center section. The police were of the opinion that the young man, the nineteen-year-old nephew of a police detective, was deliberately challenging the policy of segregated sections. He was not alone. With the reestablishment of trans-Atlantic aviation, Bermuda became a key stepping stone between Great Britain and its Caribbean colonies. As a result, there was a constant stream of nonwhite VIP’s staying the night on layover. Predictably, a series of international incidents followed the refusal of Bermuda’s luxury hotels to accommodate these weary travelers. There was considerable negative press coverage of these incidents in Great Britain and the Bermuda government came under enormous pressure to integrate.

NOTES

249

107. Governor to Secretary of State for the Colonies, July 11, 1953, S32/2/2: Racial Discrimination. Bermuda Archives. 108. Bermuda. History of the War, 1939–1945, Bound Copy 1943, Volume 2, July-August 1943.

6 The American Occupation of Stephenville, Newfoundland 1. “January 1943 Miscellaneous Report,” file 64: Miscellaneous—St. George’s Magistracy, 1937–1943, Box 93, GN 13/1/B. PANL. 2. Newfoundland. Department of Public Health and Welfare. Tenth Census of Newfoundland and Labrador, 1935. Volume 1: Population by Districts and Settlements (St. John’s: The Evening Telegram, 1937), 386. 3. W.H. Kennedy, Bureau of Yards and Docks, U.S. Navy, “Report on General Conditions in Newfoundland,” September 28, 1941, Box 5054, RG 59. Decimal File, 1940–44. NAR A. See also “Stephenville-History,” Decks Awash 13, 4 (July–August 1984). 4. Supplementary farming was an integral part of the economy in Newfoundland outport communities. See Sean Cadigan, “The Role of Agriculture in Outport Self-Sufficiency,” in Rosemary E. Ommer, ed., The Resilient Outport: Ecology, Economy and Society in Rural Newfoundland (St. John’s: ISER Books, 2002). 5. Minute by Commissioner of Natural Resources, January 13, 1941. GN 31/3A. R602. Department of Agriculture and Rural Reconstruction. PANL. In 1935, Stephenville’s farmers reported producing 15,926 bushels of potatoes, 499 barrels of turnips, 2,500 pounds of cabbage, 503 tons of hay, 435 bushels of oats, and 635 gallons of strawberries. Census of Newfoundland and Labrador, 1935, Volume 2, 396–397. 6. Cecelia Benoit, “Mothering in a Newfoundland Community: 1900–1940,” in Katherine Arnup, Andree Levesque, and Ruth Roach Pierson, eds., Delivering Motherhood: Ideologies and Practices in the 19th and 20th Centuries (New York: Routledge, 1990), 174. 7. The fact that it was mainly French-speaking provided an additional sense of community cohesion. For a brief history see Gary R. Butler, “L’Acadie et la France se rencontrent: le peuplement franco-acadien de la baie St. Georges, Terre Neuve,” Newfoundland Studies 10, 2 (1994), 180–207. 8. Philip Bruton, “Stephenville Staging Field—Boundary Lines and Property Ownership,” U.S. Engineer Office St. John’s, Newfoundland, April 25, 1941. Map 2390. RG 4.3. PANL. 9. Philip Bruton, “Harmon Field. Revised Boundary Line and Property Ownership,” September 17, 1941. Map 4548. RG 4.3. PANL. 10. Philip Bruton, “Harmon Field Boundary Line and Property Ownership,” October 20, 1941. Map 4537. RG 4.3. PANL. 11. Every Stephenville resident identified him or her self as Roman Catholic in 1935. Census of Newfoundland and Labrador, 1935. 12. The U.S. authorities kept regular tallies of male employees only. 13. It is important to distinguish between the policy intentions on the one hand and actual outcomes on the other. For a study of the ambitious reforms to public health administration see Peter Neary, “Venereal Disease and Public

250

NOTES

14. 15.

16.

17.

18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27.

28. 29. 30. 31.

Health Administration in Newfoundland in the 1930s and 1940s,” Canadian Bulletin of Medical History 15 (1998), 129–151. A more critical view of the Commission of Government is presented in James Overton, “Economic Crisis and the End of Democracy: Politics and Newfoundland during the Great Depression,” Labour/le Travail 26 (Fall 1990), 85–124. Memorandum by W.W. Woods (Commissioner of Public Works), July 29, 1942. File 50. Box 390. GN 13/2/A. PANL. Stetson Conn, Rose C. Engelman, and Byron Fairchild, eds., The Western Hemisphere: Guarding the United States and Its Outposts (Washington, DC: Office of the Chief of Military History, 1964), see Chapter 14. The custom differed elsewhere in the dependent Empire, where the governor of the colony made an initial valuation. Governor to Dominions Secretary, December 30, 1940. D26/21/2. GN 31/3A. PANL. Governor to Dominions Secretary, 23 November 1940. D 26/21/2. GN 31/3A. PANL. Judge William J. Higgins was later named to the board. See Peter Neary, Newfoundland in the North Atlantic World, 1929–1949 (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1996 [1988]), 141. The board is also discussed in Malcolm MacLeod, Peace of the Continent (St. John’s: Harry Cuff Publications, 1986), 31–5. File #1; Box 104A, GN 13/1/B. PANL. And, J.H. Gorvin to Commission, December 20, 1940. D 26/21/2. GN 31/3A. PANL. Dominions Secretary to Governor, December 20, 1940. D 26/21/2. GN 31/3A. PANL. Cordell Hull to N.M. Butler (chargé d’affaires), December 13, 1940. D26/21/2. GN 31/3A. PANL. Governor to Dominions Secretary, December 30, 1940. D 26/21/2. GN 31/3A. PANL. Governor to British Chargé d’affaires in Washington, January 9, 1941. D 26/21/2. GN 31/3A. PANL. Circular dispatch to Newfoundland and other base colonies, January 22, 1941. D 26/21/2. GN 31/3A. PANL. Cordell Hull to Butler, December 13, 1940. D 26/21/2. GN 31/3A. PANL. Governor to Dominions Secretary, February 8, 1941. D 26/21/2. GN 31/3A. PANL. Minute by Commissioner for Natural Resources, January 13, 1941. R 602. GN 31/3A. PANL. R.D. Fraser to the Secretary for Natural Resources, March 14, 1941. D 26/21/5. GN 31/3A. PANL. Fraser enclosed the General Condition Report from the Stephenville Crossing detachment. The Newfoundland Rangers, modeled on Canada’s Royal Canadian Mounted Police, policed rural areas. S.F. O’Driscoll to J.E. Tabor, Director of Agriculture, March 1941. R602. GN 31/3A. PANL. J.F. Dawson to Secretary for Justice, May 31, 1941. G/445/2. GN 4/1/D. PANL. Philip G. Bruton to W.J. Robinson (Chief Engineer, Department of Public Works), June 9, 1941. D 26/21/5. GN 31/3A. PANL. Philip G. Bruton to Robinson, June 12, 1941. D 26/21/5. GN 31/3A. PANL.

NOTES

251

32. R.S. James to Tabor, July 2, 1941. R 602. GN 31/3A. PANL. 33. Ibid. 34. James’ views on land values were widely shared. A U.S. Navy officer sent to investigate the Argentia claims in January 1943 heard a similar argument being made by Judge Higgins, Chairman of the Board of Compensation. Higgins said that land values in Newfoundland took into account the scarcity of agricultural land and the work required to clear it. PANL. GN 38. Box S 3–1–2, file 6. Gerald G. Tessier to Sir Wilfrid Woods, 16 January 1943. That same week, Woods informed the United States that in Newfoundland “disturbance” represented a legitimate claim “because of the low fertility of the soil.” Cultivate land had been made to produce “only by dint of the hard labor of many generations.” Memorandum of Conversation between Woods, and Mr. Hickerson and Miss Borjes of the Department of State, January 15, 1943. Box 3798. RG 59. 811.34544. NAR A. 35. Bruton to Woods, July 5, 1941. G/445/2. GN 4/1/D. PANL. 36. As it turned out, the United States refused to pay compensation for disturbance. See Peter Neary, “ ‘A Mortgaged Property’: The Impact of the United States on Newfoundland, 1940–1949,” in James Hiller and Peter Neary, eds., Twentieth Century Newfoundland: Explorations (St. John’s: Breakwater Books, 1994), 183. 37. Bruton to Woods, July 5, 1941. G445/2. GN 4/1/D. PANL. 38. Ibid. 39. Vincent Russell to Woods, March 6, 1941. File: Vincent Russell. Box 20. GN 4/3. PANL. 40. John Austin to Department of Public Works, March 5, 1941. File: Claim 5S, Austin, John. Box 17. GN 4/3. PANL. 41. W.J. Robinson to Magistrate Dawson, August 12, 1941. G/445/2. GN 4/1/D. PANL. 42. The underlying reason for the higher awards originates with the U.S. refusal to consider claims for disturbance, loss of business, and replacement value. G/445/2. GN 4/1/D. PANL. 43. Dawson to Woods, September 26, 1941. G/445/2. GN 4/1/D. PANL. 44. R. Manning, Secretary of Public Works to Commissioner for Home Affairs and Education, November 14, 1945. GN 3/1/D. PANL; Tessier to Woods, 16 January 1943. File 6. Box S 3–1–2. GN 38. PANL. 45. Captain Charles W. Barton, “Sanitary Survey of Corner Brook, Newfoundland,” March 23, 1943. File: Sanitary Reports. Box 22. RG 338. Newfoundland Base Command (NBC). NAR A. The situation in Grand Falls proved broadly similar. Next to the Anglo-Newfoundland Development Company’s townsite was the shack town of Grand Falls Station (later Windsor). Captain Duane L. Cady, “Sanitary Survey of Grand Falls, Newfoundland,” July 8, 1941. File: Sanitary Reports. Box 19. RG 338 BBC. NAR A. 46. G.H. Gorvin, January 10, 1941. D 26/21/4. GN 31/3A. PANL. 47. Acting Director of Local Government Affairs to Secretary for Justice, July 2, 1948. File 46. Box 119. GN 13/1/B. PANL. 48. Euzeb White’s testimony, July 7, 1942. 2.08.011. Claim #23. Collection 87, John G. Higgins. Centre for Newfoundland Studies (CNS), Memorial University of Newfoundland. St. John’s, Newfoundland. 49. O’Dallon White’s testimony, July 13, 1943. 2.08.011. Claim #66S. Higgins Collection. CNS.

252

NOTES

50. Norbert Russell’s testimony, July 19, 1943. 2.08.011. Claimm #96S. Higgins Collection. CNS. 51. Maurice J. Boland’s testimony, July 13, 1943. 2.08.011. Claim #65S. Higgins Collection. CNS. 52. Newfoundland’s Jewish community expanded considerably during the war. Alison Kahn, Listen While I Tell You: A Story of the Jews of St. John’s, Newfoundland (St. John’s: ISER, 1987), 101, 119–22, and 145. For a general discussion of Newfoundland immigration policy vis-à-vis Jewish refugees during the 1930s, see Gerhard P. Bassler, Sanctuary Denied: Refugees from the Third Reich and Newfoundland Immigration Policy, 1906–1949 (St. John’s: ISER Books, 1992). 53. L.E. Emerson to Commissioner for Natural Resources, May 17, 1941. G/442. GN 4/1/D. PANL. 54. Arsene V. Gallant’s testimony, December 1941. 2.08.011. Claim #11S. Higgins Collection. CNS. 55. Aloysius White’s testimony. 2.08.011. Claim #3S. Higgins Collection. CNS. 56. Martin LaFitte’s testimony, July 7, 1942. 2.08.011. Claim #15S.Higgins Collection. CNS. 57. Francis Anthony Gaultois’ testimony. 2.08.011. Claim 18S. Higgins Collection. CNS.The Gaultois family operated several grocery stores in the district. 58. Gaultois Bros and Richard McIsaac. Claim #80S. Box 19. GN 4/3. PANL. 59. Letter from W.L. Whelan, March 23, 1942. Claim #100S. Box 19. GN 4/3. PANL. 60. Loyal Johnson’s testimony, July 9, 1942. 2.08.011. Claim #54S. Higgins Collection. CNS. 61. Sheppard, Isaac. Claim #154S. Box 20. GN 4/3. PANL. 62. James A. Pittman’s testimony. July 12, 1943. 2.08.011. Claim #60S. Higgins Collection. CNS. 63. George and Paul Boulos’ testimony. 2.08.011. Claim #29S. Higgins Collection. CNS. 64. The exaggerated reaction, or moral panic, concerning venereal disease during the Second World War is explored in any number of books and articles. For a Canadian example, see Ruth Roach Pierson, “They’re Still Women after All”: The Second World War and Canadian Womanhood (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1986). 65. Lt. Colonel John B. Lynch, Base Surgeon, “Venereal Disease Control Activities: Harmon Field and Vicinity,” May 31, 1944. File: Venereal Disease Reports. Box 46. RG 338 NBC. NAR A. 66. Capt. William H. Fleming, Acting VD Control Officer, May 3, 1943. File: Sanitary Reports. Box 22. RG 338 NBC. NAR A. 67. Lt. Richard W. Lippman, VD Control Officer to 311th Station Hospital, New York, June 30, 1943. File: Sanitary Reports. Box 22. RG 338 NBC. NAR A. 68. This was nothing new. The British Contagious Disease Acts in the 1860s established a similar system of inspection in eighteen “subjected areas.” See Judith Walkowitz, Prostitution and Victorian Society: Women, Class and the State (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980). 69. Captain Daniel Bergsma, “Venereal Disease and Other Health Problems in Newfoundland,” December 1, 1942. File: Venereal Disease. Box 19. RG 338 NBC. NAR A.

NOTES

253

70. Major James R. Bell to Puddester, June 22, 1945. File 14. S6–1–4. GN 38. PANL.; and, File: “Establishment of Health Services in 1938–41.” S6–1–2. GN 38. PANL. 71. Bell to Leonard Miller (Director of Medical Services), July 3, 1945. File 25. S6–1–4. GN 38. PANL. The U.S. Army’s medical service in Newfoundland and in other base colonies is described, briefly, in Charles M. Wiltse, The Medical Department: Medical Service in the Mediterranean and Minor Theatres (Washington, DC: Office of the Chief of Military History, 1965). 72. P.D.H. Dunn (Commissioner of Natural Resources) to Commissioner for Public Utilities, May 15, 1943, Volume 7, GN 4/1/D, PANL, enclosing report (dated 4 May 1943) from the Ranger at Stephenville. 73. Report by Ranger J. Fagan, June 3, 1943. File 11. S6–1-4. GN 38. PANL. 74. Dunn to Commissioner for Public Utilities, May 15, 1943. Volume 7. GN 4/1/D. PANL. 75. Ibid. 76. Capt. Earl S. Hallinger, “Monthly Sanitary Report,” February 1, 1943. File: Sanitary Reports. Box 22. RG 338 NBC. NAR A. 77. Capt. Earl S. Hallinger, “Monthly Sanitary Report,” May 3, 1943. File: Sanitary Reports. Box 22. RG 338 NBC. NAR A. 78. Charles S. Reed II to Woods, May 26, 1943. Volume 7. GN 4/1/D. PANL. 79. George D. Hopper to Woods, July 9, 1943. Volume 7. GN 4/1/D. PANL. 80. Lt. Richard W. Lippman, “Supplement to Monthly Sanitary Report for June 1943,” June 30, 1943. File: Sanitary Reports. Box 22. RG 338 NBC. NAR A. 81. Hopper to Emerson, September 14, 1942. File 50. Box 390. GN 13/2/A. PANL. 82. J. Fagan, Ranger Report, October 5, 1944. File 48. Box S2–5–2. GN 38. PANL. 83. Cecelia White, Claim #157S. Box 20. GN 4/3. PANL. 84. 2.08.011. Higgins Collection. CNS. 85. Ibid. 86. Mosdell to Dawson, April 20, 1943. File 67. Box S6–1–3. GN 38. PANL. 87. Puddester to Commissioner for Public Utilities, May 28, 1943. Volume 7. GN 4/1.D. PANL. 88. H.W. Quinton to Secretary for Justice, April 29, 1946. File 46. Box 119. GN 13/1/B. PANL. 89. F. Scott (Assistant Magistrate for St. George’s) to Secretary for Public Health and Welfare, November 26, 1945. File 46. Box 119. GN 13/1/B. PANL. 90. Scott, September 28, 1948 File 46. Box 115. GN 13/1/B. PANL.

7

The Racial Politics of Criminal Jurisdiction

1. Note by Secretary Circulating Report by COS, 5 September 1940 meeting, CAB 98/6, War Cabinet, Committee on United States Bases, Minutes and Memos, 4 September 1940, Public Record Office (hereafter PRO), London, England; also see Commonwealth Relations Officer, November 1949, File: Note 1, Dominion Office (hereafter DO) 114/111, “Newfoundland United States Leased Bases Correspondence, 1940–1947,” PRO.

254

NOTES

2. The best analysis of the negotiations can be found in Charlie Whitham, “On Dealing with Gangsters: The Limits of British ‘Generosity’ in the Leasing of Bases to the U.S., 1940–41,” Diplomacy & Statecraft 7, 3 (November 1996), 589–630. 3. Other articles of the agreement gave the United States additional rights and responsibilities. For example, Article VI ensured that U.S. servicemen would not face arrest without the approval of their commanding officer. Similarly, Article VII indicated that Americans being tried in civilian courts had the right of audience for U.S. legal counsel. 4. The British had asked that racial discrimination be placed on the agenda for possible inclusion in the agreement. However, the United States objected. As a result, the racial question was left to colonial governors and base commanders to work out on a case-by-case basis. G. H. Hall to Arthur Creech Jones, MP, 2 July 1941, Colonial Office (hereafter CO) 971/20/3, PRO. 5. The various responses are held in File: G 11/02/28, “American Bases in Newfoundland,” Volume 9, GN 4/1/D, PANL. 6. Archibald King, “Jurisdiction over Friendly Foreign Armed Forces,” The American Journal of International Law 36, 4 (October 1942), 548. 7. Ibid., 549. 8. Ibid., 552. 9. Archibald King, “Further Developments Concerning Jurisdiction Over Friendly Foreign Armed Forces,” The American Journal of International Law 40, 2 (April 1946), 264–276. 10. In most cases, the Colonial officers consisted of a Governor (or Commissioner), a Colonial Secretary, an Attorney General and a Chief Justice. 11. Jerry Dupont, The Common Law Abroad: Constitutional and Legal Legacy of the British Empire (Littleton, CO: Fred B. Rothman, 2001), xiv. 12. Ibid., 99–100. 13. W. Adolphe Roberts, “Caribbean Headaches,” The Nation (September 20, 1941). This opinion was shared by upper echelon officers: Admiral Greenslade, “Social and Economic Conditions in Jamaica,” October 26, 1940, Box 3788, RG 59: Decimal Files, 1940–44, 811.34544, National Archives and Records Administration (hereafter NAR A), College Park, Maryland. 14. Howard Johnson, The Bahamas from Slavery to Servitude, 1783–1933 (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1996), 97–101; and Michael Craton and Gail Saunders, Islanders in the Stream: A History of the Bahamian People Volume 2, (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1992). 15. These “old” colonies had houses of assembly that went back centuries. Bermuda’s legislature dated back to 1620, making it the oldest one outside of England. 16. Resistance to segregation during the 1940s and 1950s is outlined in one file found at the Bermuda Archives. S 32/2/2, “Racial Discrimination,” Bermuda Archives. Jewish soldiers and sailors also faced discrimination. According to one U.S. journalist, Bermuda had “no Jews to hate but plenty of hatred for Jews.” William Saphire, “British Bermuda: A Land of Bigotry,” Jewish Examiner (October 25, 1946). 17. See Sean Cadigan, “Battle Harbour in Transition: Merchants, Fishermen, and the State in the Struggle for Relief in a Labrador Community during the 1930s,” Labour/Le Travail 26 (Fall 1990), 125–150.

NOTES

255

18. There is a considerable literature on the Commission of Government era in Newfoundland history. The most extensive study to date is Peter Neary, Newfoundland in the North Atlantic World, 1929–1949 (Montreal: McGillQueen’s University Press, 1988) See also David Mackenzie, Inside the Atlantic Triangle (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1986). The suspension of democracy is critically examined in James Overton, “Economic Crisis and the End of Democracy: Politics and Newfoundland during the Great Depression,” Labour/Le Travail 26 (Fall 1990) and in Garfield Fizzard, ed., Amulree’s Legacy: Truth, Lies and Consequences Symposium (St. John’s: Newfoundland Historical Society, 2001). Changes to the fisheries are examined in Miriam Wright, A Fishery for Modern Times: The State and the Industrialization of the Newfoundland Fishery, 1934–1968 (Don Mills: Oxford University Press, 2001) and in David Alexander, The Decay of Trade: An Economic History of the Newfoundland Saltfish Trade, 1935–1965 (St. John’s: ISER Books, 1977). 19. For the functioning of segregation in the U.S. South see John Hope Franklin, “History of Racial Segregation in the United States,” Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science 304 (March 1956), 1–9; C. Vann Woodward, The Strange Career of Jim Crow. Third Edition (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989); Robert Haws, ed., The Age of Segregation: Race Relations in the South, 1890–1945 (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 1978); and, W. Fitzhugh Brundage, Lynching in the New South: Georgia and Virginia, 1880–1930 (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1993). 20. Michael L. Conniff, Black Labor on a White Canal: Panama, 1904–1981 (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1985), 4–8. Another example is Puerto Rico. See Efren Rivera Ramos, The Legal Construction of Identity: The Judicial and Social Legacy of American Colonialism in Puerto Rico (Washington, DC: American Psychological Association, 2001). 21. Neil A. Wynn, The Afro-American and the Second World War (New York: Holmes and Myer, 1975). 22. Until 1942, the Red Cross even refused to accept blood donations from nonwhites for the wounded. This was followed by a Jim Crow blood bank. Jean Byers, A Study of the Negro in Military Service (in WWII), June 1947, Box 783, RG 341: Headquarters U.S. Air Force, Deputy Chief of Staff, Personnel Director of Personnel Procurement and Training, Executive Office Records on Racial Policies, 1944–50, NAR A. 23. Harvey Neptune, “White Lies: Race and Sexuality in Occupied Trinidad,” Journal of Colonialism and Colonial History 2, 1 (2001). 24. Soldiers who committed crimes were brought before one of three types of courts martial. First, general courts martial were convened to hear the most serious cases. Smaller matters were heard by special courts martial that could imprison an offender for a maximum of six months. Finally, summary courts martial heard minor cases and could punish offenders with a maximum sentence of one month jail time. Military law was so comprehensive that it encompassed virtually every imaginable offense whether military or civil. Brigadier General A. G. Strong to American Consul General, April 8, 1943, File 319.141, “Staff Judge Advocate. Annual Reports,” Box 57, RG 338: BBC, NAR A; also see Harry N. Deyo, Staff Judge Advocate to Commanding General, Bermuda Base Command (hereafter BBC), February 18, 1944, File 250.401, “Jurisdiction (Conf),” Box 42, RG 338: BBC, NAR A.

256

NOTES

25. Colonial Office to the Governors of the base colonies, November 30, 1942, CO 975/2541, PRO. 26. Roberts-Wray, Minute, September 26, 1942, CO 971/25/1, “U.S. Bases: Jurisdiction Coloured Magistrates and Juries,” PRO. 27. To quote from the minute: “In view of the acceptance by the United States of our views of concurrent jurisdiction, the question of trial by coloured jury becomes a real and pressing importance. If the United States raise objection in every case in trial by coloured jury, and the objection is sustained (as I think it would have to be) we shall in practice be deprived of jurisdiction in every case.” Minute, September 26, 1942, CO 971/25/1, “U.S. Bases: Jurisdiction Coloured Magistrates and Juries,” PRO. 28. Fraser, Ambivalent Anti-colonialism, 61–62. 29. Memorandum from Lt. Colonel W.F. Train, War Department, General Staff, Operations Division, Washington to Mr. John D. Hickerson, Department of State, January 26, 1943, Box 3798, RG 59: 811.34544, NAR A. 30. W. Adolphe Roberts, “Caribbean Headaches,” The Nation (September 20, 1941). 31. Notes by Roberts Wray, February 1945, CO 971/20/3, PRO. 32. Robert C. Bates, “Strictly Confidential Background Report,” January 21, 1942, File 610: Economic Reports, Box 5, Volume 3 (1941), RG 84: British Guiana Consulate, General Records, 1940–47, NAR A. 33. A double standard already existed in the colony as the courts proved reluctant to imprison the white population of the Colony and “where it is practicable fines instead of prison sentences are imposed.” Ibid. 34. Conn and Fairchild, The Western Hemisphere, 404. 35. Colonial Office to the Governors of the base colonies, November 30, 1942, CO 975/2541, PRO. 36. Douglas Jardine, Governor Leeward Islands to H. Beckett, December 17, 1942, CO 975/25/1, PRO. 37. N.L. Mayle, January 16, 1943, Minute, CO 971/25/1, “U.S. Bases: Jurisdiction Coloured Magistrates and Juries,” PRO. 38. Ibid. 39. N.L Mayle, July 6, 1943, Minute, CO 971/25/1, “U.S. Bases: Jurisdiction Coloured Magistrates and Juries,” PRO. 40. William Battershill, Minute, September 12, 1942, CO 971/25/1, “U.S. Bases: Jurisdiction Coloured Magistrates and Juries,” PRO. 41. K.O. Roberts-Wray, January 16, 1943, Minute, CO 971/25/1, “U.S. Bases: Jurisdiction Coloured Magistrates and Juries,” PRO. 42. “K.E.P.,” January 21, 1943, Minute, CO 971/25/1, “U.S. Bases: Jurisdiction Coloured Magistrates and Juries,” PRO 43. Colonial Secretary, Bahamas to H. Beckett, Minute, January 8, 1943, CO 971/25/1, “U.S. Bases: Jurisdiction Coloured Magistrates and Juries,” PRO. 44. William Beckett, July 28, 1942, Minute, CO 971/25/1, “U.S. Bases: Jurisdiction Coloured Magistrates and Juries,” PRO. Roberts Wray believed that Sections 13, 33, and 36 of the Bermuda Jury Act would probably ensure a white jury if desired. 45. W.G. Hayter, British Embassy in Washington to H. Hohler, Foreign Office, October 13, 1942, CO 975/25/1, PRO.

NOTES

257

46. N.L. Mayle, Minute, September 8, 1942, CO 971/25/1, “U.S. Bases: Jurisdiction Coloured Magistrates and Juries,” PRO. 47. Governor of British Guiana to H. Beckett, January 11, 1943, CO 975/25/1, PRO. 48. Governor of Trinidad to H.Beckett, January 19, 1943, CO 975/25/1, PRO. 49. Governor of Jamaica to H. Beckett, January 13, 1943, CO 975/25/1, PRO. 50. K.O. Roberts-Wray, November 4, 1942, Minute, CO 971/25/1, “U.S. Bases: Jurisdiction Coloured Magistrates and Juries,” PRO. 51. Mr. Chancery, British Embassy, Washington to North American Department, Foreign Office, May 4, 1942, File: CO 971/13/2, “U.S. Bases Act IV Jurisdiction,” PRO. 52. Emerson was knighted in 1944 and made chief justice of the Supreme Court of Newfoundland. Robert H. Cuff, Melvin Baker, and Robert D.W. Pitt, eds., Dictionary of Newfoundland and Labrador Biography (St. John’s: Harry Cuff Publications, 1990), 99. 53. Quoted in Neary, Newfoundland in the North Atlantic World, 151. 54. Ibid., 150–151. 55. L.E. Emerson to Colonel Welty, July 11, 1941, File: Jurisdiction of Local Government over Federal Property and Operations, Box 16, Newfoundland Base Command, NAR A. 56. Colonel Welty to L.E. Emerson, October 4, 1941, File: Jurisdiction of Local Government over Federal Property and Operations, Box 16, Newfoundland Base Command, NAR A. 57. L.E. Emerson to Colonel M.D. Welty, May 7, 1941, File: Jurisdiction of Local Government over Federal Property and Operations, Box 16, Newfoundland Base Command, NAR A. 58. Superintendent to Deputy Commissioner of Police, December 31, 1942, CO 975/25/1, PRO. Cases of a more serious nature involving American servicemen were tried by military courts martial. Governor of Trinidad to H. Beckett, January 19, 1943, CO 975/25/1, PRO. 59. Governor of British Guiana to H. Beckett, January 11, 1943, CO 975/25/1, PRO. 60. July to September 1943, CO 971/24/9, “US Bases. British Guiana. Quarterly Reports,” PRO. 61. K.O. Roberts-Wray, September 4, 1942, File: CO 971/13/2, “U.S. Bases Act IV Jurisdiction,” PRO. 62. Henry Field, March 1942, File: “Henry Field. Trinidad, March 8–30, 1942,” Box 57, RG 43, NAR A. 63. Ibid. 64. Paul Blanshard, Democracy and Empire in the Caribbean (New York: Macmillan, 1947), 116. 65. The Officer Administering the Government to Secretary of State, December 13, 1943, DO 35/1736, PRO. 66. Minute, N.L. Mayle, November 21, 1941, CO 971/20/6, “US Bases. Criminal Offences: Leeward Islands,” PRO; and see Governor Sir D. Jardine to Colonial Office, December 26, 1941 in the same file. 67. Frank A. Schuler, Jr., American Consul to Secretary of State, May 19, 1942, Box 3796, RG 59: 811.34544/1753, NAR A.

258

NOTES

68. The growing dissatisfaction with the exercise of criminal jurisdiction by the U.S. military courts extended to St. Lucia where the Marines fired on several unarmed civilians, including the accidental shooting of Arnold Maynard by a U.S. Marine sentry in March 1942; the May 26, 1942 shooting of a St. Lucian lorry driver by a Marine guard; the shooting of a St. Lucian laborer on October 21, 1943; and the shooting of George Pamphille on February 18, 1944. Assistant Administrator F.E. Degazon, File: “Service Officers’ Report; Assistant Administrator; Administrator; and Governor, Period March 1941–June 1944,” CO 971/21/7, “Periodical Reports of Incidents, Etc, United States Bases—Secretary of State’s Windward Islands Dispatch No. 131 of 1 October 1943,” PRO. 69. The Officer Administering the Government to Secretary of State, December 13, 1943, DO 35/1736, PRO. 70. See, for example, this 1944 incident: File: “Private Mifford Simon, 1944,” Box 10, RG 338: BBC, NAR A. 71. July 1–September 20, 1944, CO 971/24/5, “US Bases. Windward Islands—Periodical Reports. Quarterly Report,” PRO. 72. J.B. Oldendorf, U.S. Naval Operating Base, Trinidad, November 24, 1942, File: Correspondence, 1942, Box 2, RG 84: Trinidad Consulate, Confidential Files, NAR A. 73. January–March 1944, CO 971/24/9, “US Bases. British Guiana. Quarterly Reports,” PRO. For an Antiguan example see Governor Sir D. Jardine to Colonial Office, November 20, 1941, CO 971/20/6, “US Bases. Criminal Offences: Leeward Islands,” PRO. 74. However, in the case of an African American soldier charged with the rape of a Trinidadian of Portuguese descent, the trial was only open to local government officials due to the nature of the evidence. William J. Epes, Lieutenant Colonel, GSC, Chief of Staff to Claude H. Hall, Jr., U.S. Consul, June 15, 1942, File: 834.5, Box 32, RG 84: Trinidad Consulate General Records, 1941–44, NAR A. 75. A series of meetings were held between the Staff Judge Advocate’s office of Bermuda Base Command (United States) and the Bermuda government in Fall 1941. The United States asked that the government hand over all American nationals charged with crimes outside the leased areas. After its initial refusal to consider this option, the Bermuda government relented in December 1941. Bermuda justified this decision, in part, by noting that private citizens could still initiate private prosecutions should justice not be found in the U.S. service courts. However, the Americans simply refused to hand over any serviceman for such a trial. The right of private prosecution was thus an illusory guarantor of British rule of law. Charles P. Light, Jr., Memorandum for the Commanding General, Bermuda Base Command, Annual Report of Staff Judge Advocate for Fiscal Year 1942, August 31, 1943, File 319.141, “Staff Judge Advocate, Annual Reports,” RG 338: BBC, NAR A. 76. Question and Answer to Major Light, Judge Advocate General’s Department, June 30, 1941, File: 250.401, “Jurisdiction, Military Courts, Tribunals,” Box 42, RG 338: Bermuda Base Command, NAR A. 77. Legal Officer, U.S. Naval Operating Base to Staff Judge Advocate, Bermuda Base Command, 10 January 1942, File 319.141, “Staff Judge Advocate. Annual Reports,” Box 57, RG 338: BBC, NAR A.

NOTES

259

78. Governor to Secretary of State, January 13, 1943, File: USB/17/B, “Jurisdiction: Case of Private William Ferell (Rape), 1942–3,” Bermuda Archives. 79. The Bermuda government regularly handed over members of the command who had committed offenses outside the leased areas. Charles P. Light, Jr., Memorandum for the Commanding General, Bermuda Base Command, Annual Report of Staff Judge Advocate for Fiscal Year 1943, July 26, 1943, File 319.141, “Staff Judge Advocate. Annual Reports,” Box 57, RG 338: BBC, NAR A. 80. A.G. Strong, Brigadier General, Commanding, to Commanding General, Eastern Defense Command, November 30, 1942, File 250.4 Courts Martial, 1944–45, Box 42, RG 338: BBC, NAR A. 81. “Reports Concerning United States Army and Navy Personnel from the 1st day of April, 1941 to the 28th day of February 1944.” File 250.1 Morale and Conduct, Box 41, RG 338: BBC, NAR A. 82. Royal Gazette and Colonist Daily (Saturday, February 12, 1944). The U.S. reaction to this courtroom drama can be found in: Basil F. Macgowan, U.S. Vice Consul to Secretary of State, June 13, 1944, Box 3801, RG 59: 811.34544, NARA; and, Major Bates Raney, Military Intelligence, February 14, 1944, File 319.1, “Periodic Reports (S-2 Reports),” Box 51, RG 338: BBC, NARA. 83. John B. Brooks, Major General, Commanding Newfoundland Base Command, June 1, 1943, Binder 1: “Monthly Reports of Operations,” Box 79, Newfoundland Base Command, NAR A. 84. George D. Hopper made this estimate in September 1943. 85. “Classification of American Persons Committed to H.M. Penitentiary since January 1st, 1941 to Date,” October 5, 1945, File 19: U.S. Effect of Agreement on Colonies, Box 365, GN 13/1/B, PANL. 86. Quoted in Neary, Newfoundland in the North Atlantic World, 204. 87. John B. Brooks, Major General, Commanding Officer, May 1, 1943, Binder 1: Monthly Reports of Operations, Box 79, Newfoundland Base Command, NAR A. 88. Major General G.C. Brant to Consul General Hopper, September 10, 1942, File: “Jurisdiction of Local Government over Federal Property and Operation,” Box 16, RG 338: Newfoundland Base Command, NAR A. 89. George D. Hopper, “Political Developments during the Month of August 1942,” Box 48, RG 84: St. John’s Consulate. General Records, 1936–49 (1942), NAR A. 90. Ibid. 91. Humphrey Walwyn to Machtig, March 4, 1944, File: DO 35/1736, “U.S. Bases. Preparation of a Paper on the Probable future Effects on the Territories Concerned of the Leasing of the Bases to the U.S.,” PRO. 92. Cordell Hull to Frank Knox, Secretary of the Navy, Box 3798, RG 59: 811.34544/2646, NAR A. 93. M.P. Mahoney, Sergeant, “Jurisdiction of Security Officers,” September 15, 1942, File 101: “U.S. Base, Arrest British Seaman Kemp and Meechan at Torbay, 1942–43,” Box 109, PANL. 94. These incidents are outlined in File 27, “American Bases,” September 1942, Box 34, GN 13/1/B, PANL. 95. Newfoundland Governor to the Secretary of State for the Dominions, May 8, 1942, File 10: PU-General, 1942–44, Box S 5–1-3, GN 38, PANL.

260

NOTES

96. Secretary of State for the Dominions to the Governor of Newfoundland, May 15, 1942, File 10: PU-General, 1942–44, Box S 5–1–3, GN 38, PANL. 97. Major General John Brooks was a natural conciliator and soon reported that relations had warmed up considerably: “On the question of jurisdiction it has been agreed that in each borderline case a conference will be held and a decision will be made, based upon the facts of the case. This decision will be by consent and agreement of both parties.” John B. Brooks, Major General, Commanding Officer, May 1, 1943, Binder 1: Monthly Reports of Operations, Box 79, Newfoundland Base Command, NAR A. 98. L.E. Emerson to Charles Reed II, American Consul, April 29, 1943, File 1: Jurisdiction Prior to 1945, Box 1, Argentia U.S. Navy—Newfoundland, Naval Historical Center (hereafter NHC), Washington Navy Yard, Washington, DC. 99. Knox reasoned that the “long established policy of the Navy Department is not to surrender its personnel to a foreign government for trial.” Secretary of Navy, Frank Knox, to Cordell Hull, Secretary of State, August 18, 1943, File 1943, Box 56, RG 84: St. John’s Consulate. General Records, 1936–49, NAR A. 100. Charles S. Reed II, American Consul to Secretary of State, Washington, May 18, 1943, File 1: Jurisdiction Prior to 1945, Box 1, Argentia U.S. Navy—Newfoundland, NHC. 101. George D. Hopper, Consul General, to Secretary of State, Washington, June 3, 1943, File 1: Jurisdiction Prior to 1945, Argentia U.S. Navy— Newfoundland, NHC. 102. Ibid. 103. The relevant section read as follows: “Nothing in this Agreement shall be construed to effect, prejudice or restrict the full exercise at all times of jurisdiction and control by the United States in matters of discipline and internal administration over members of the United States forces, as conferred by the law of the United States and any regulations made thereunder.” Article IV is quoted in its entirety in Malcolm MacLeod, Peace of the Continent: The Impact of Second World War Canadian and American Bases in Newfoundland (St. John’s: Harry Cuff Publications, 1986), 76. Acting Secretary of the Navy to the Secretary of State, December 13, 1943, File: 811.34544, Box 3800, RG 59, NAR A. 104. The question of jurisdiction remained “unsettled” in September 1944 when the navy’s commandant at Argentia reported that no personnel would be released to local trial without the expressed permission of the Secretary of the Navy. L.J. Hudson, Captain, U.S. Navy, Commandant to Commander Task Force 24, “Relations with Governments and their Nationals,” September 4, 1944, File 1: Jurisdiction Prior to 1945, Box 1, Argentia U.S. Navy—Newfoundland, NHC. 105. Newfoundland to British Embassy, Washington, June 25, 1946, File: American Bases in Newfoundland, Volume 8, Box 11, GN 4/1/D, PANL. 106. Secretary of State for Dominion Affairs to Governor, Newfoundland, File: American Bases in Newfoundland, Volume 8, Box 11, GN 4/1/D, PANL. 107. Summary Minutes of Special Meeting, United States Section, Permanent Joint Board on Defense, October 31, 1949, Base Files, 1942–52, Box 22, File: Newfoundland Bases (October–December 1949), RG 59: Secretary of State, Permanent Joint Board of Defense, NAR A.

NOTES

261

108. This chronology of events was established in court. See the text of the Supreme Court judgment by Judge Brian Dunfield in the St. John’s Evening Telegram (February 28, 1949). 109. Ibid. It is worth mentioning that Prenoveau refused to pay the fine and that the U.S. Army ordered that he be “protected and defended” as he was acting under orders. James H. Brewster, Jr., USAF Deputy Chief of Staff to Headquarters of Newfoundland Base Command, File: “Newfoundland Bases—Jurisdiction (1949),” Box 23, RG 59: Secretary of State. Permanent Joint Board of Defence Base Files, 1946–52, NAR A. 110. The various responses are held in File: G 11/02/28, “American Bases in Newfoundland,” Volume 9, GN 4/1/D, PANL. 111. Much of the recent scholarship is inspired by David R. Roediger, The Wages of Whiteness: Race and the Making of the American Working-Class (New York: Verso, 1999 [1991]). For a devastating critique of whiteness studies see Eric Arneson, “Whiteness and the Historians’ Imagination,” International Labor and Working Class History 60 (Fall 2001), 3–32. 112. Summary Minutes of Special Meeting, U.S. Section, Permanent Joint Board on Defense, October 31, 1949, File: Newfoundland Bases (October– December 1949), Box 22, RG 59, Secretary of State, Permanent Joint Board of Defense, Base Files, 1942–52, NAR A. 113. Mr. Perkins to Secretary of State, November 1, 1949, File: Newfoundland Bases (October–December 1949), Box 22, RG 59, Secretary of State, Permanent Joint Board of Defense, Base Files, 1942–52, NAR A. 114. Edwin G. Moline, American Consul General, Trinidad, “Antigua Agenda for Leased Base Talks,” October 7, 1960, File 430: U.S. Military Base, 1960. 1 of 5, Box 4, RG 84 Trinidad Declassified Box 4, NAR A.

8

From Slavery to Chaguaramas

1. Eric Williams, Inward Hunger: The Education of a Prime Minister (London: Andre Deutsch, 1981), 231. 2. Colin A. Palmer, Eric Williams and the Making of the Modern Caribbean (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2006). 3. Ibid., 234. For more on Cipriani and Trinidad labor politics during the crucial inter-war years see Sahadeo Basdeo, Labour Organization and Labour Reform in Trinidad, 1919–1939 (Port of Spain: Lexicon Trinidad, 2003), especially 38–39; and, Kelvin Singh, Race and Class Struggle in a Colonial State: Trinidad, 1917–1945 (Jamaica: University of West Indies, 1994). 4. Dr. Winston Mahabir, a member of the PNM Cabinet, for example, deeply regretted being out of the country when the “great Chaguaramas march” took place. Winston Mahabir, In and Out of Politics: Tales of the Government of Dr. Eric Williams (Trinidad: Inprint Caribbean, 1975), 86. 5. Eric Williams, Forged from the Love of Liberty: Selected Speeches of Dr. Eric Williams (Trinidad: Longman Caribbean, 1981), xxv. Over the course of the twentieth century the United States faced anti-base or anti-occupation movements in various other national contexts. For anti-base movements in Okinawa, Japan, see Laura Hein and Mark Selden, eds., Islands of Discontent: Okinawan Responses to Japanese and American Power (New York: Rowman and Littlefield, 2003), especially Asato Eiko’s contribution. For Puerto Rico

262

NOTES

6. 7. 8.

9.

10. 11.

12. 13. 14. 15.

16.

17. 18.

19.

see Katherine T. McCaffrey, Military Power and Popular Protest: The US Navy in Vieques,Puerto Rico (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2002). For Panama see Alan McPherson, “From ‘Punks’ to Geopoliticians: US and Panamanian Teenagers and the 1964 Canal Zone Riots,” The Americas 58, 3 (2002), 395–418. The culture of imperialism is explored in a Haitian context in Mary Renda, Taking Haiti: Military Occupation and the Culture of U.S. Imperialism, 1915–1940 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2001). Williams, Inward Hunger, 231. Eric Williams would govern Trinidad and Tobago from 1956 until his death in 1981 with the PNM losing its first election in 1986. Pierre Nora, “General Introduction,” in his Realms of Memory: Rethinking the French Past, Volume 1: Conflicts and Divisions (New York: Columbia University Press, 1996). The white minority is examined in Bridget Brereton, Race Relations in Colonial Trinidad, 1870–1900 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979). The focus is now on “power-laden ‘encounters’—through which foreign people, ideas, commodities, and institutions have been received, contested, and appropriated.” Joseph, et al. Close Encounters of Empire, 4. For an interesting Trinidad example see Harvey Neptune, “Forging Trinidad, Facing America: Colonial Trinidad during the United States Occupation, 1937–1947” (Ph.D. thesis, New York: New York University, 2001). Williams, Inward Hunger, 26. For more on the Caribbean Commission see Howard Johnson, “The United States and the Establishment of the Anglo-American Caribbean Commission,” Journal of Caribbean History 19, 1 (1984), 26–47; and Johnson’s “The Anglo-American Commission and the Extension of American Influence in the British Caribbean, 1942–1945,” Journal of Commonwealth and Comparative Politics 22, 2 (1984), 180–203. Seymour Drescher, “Eric Williams: British Capitalism and British Slavery,” History & Theory 26, 2 (May 1987), 183. The book quickly became an anti-imperialist “bible” for colonial students in Great Britain and in the Caribbean. Ibid., 182, 188. Williams, Inward Hunger, 94. Charlie Whitham, “On Dealing with Gangsters: The Limits of British ‘Generosity’ in the Leasing of Bases to the United States, 1940–41,” Diplomacy & Statecraft 7, 3 (November 1996), 591. The strategic context of these base location decisions is examined in Stetson Conn and Byron Fairchild, The Framework for Hemispheric Defense (Washington, DC: U.S. Army, 1984). The Joint Planning Committee to Chief of Naval Operations and the Chief of Staff to the Army, August 28, 1940, File 2, Box 5, John W. Greenslade Papers, Library of Congress. Washington, DC. Rear Admiral J.W. Greenslade to Governor of Trinidad, October 10, 1940, Box 1, RG 84. Port of Spain (Trinidad, BWI) Consulate, NAR A. Outline of Local Defenses for Bases Acquired from Great Britain in the Caribbean Area and British Guiana, November 8, 1940, File 2, Box 5, John W. Greenslade Papers, Library of Congress. Fitzroy André Baptiste, War, Cooperation and Conflict: The European Possessions in the Caribbean, 1939–1945 (New York: Greenwood Press, 1988), 87.

NOTES

263

20. Governor of Trinidad to The Secretary of State, January 22, 1944, DO 35/1736, Public Record Office (PRO). 21. U.S. Embassy, London, January 8, 1941, RG 59: Decimal Files, 1940–44. 811.34544/423. Box 3789. NAR A. Questions about the legality and morality of the deal were raised by the U.S.-based West Indian National Council and by the Inter-Caribbean Labor Party. W.A. Domingo, President, West Indian Council to FDR, December 27, 1940, RG 59: Decimal File, 1940–44. 811.34544/621. Box 3790, NAR A. The Inter Caribbean Labor Party, 25—Caribbean Labor Party went so far as to say that the acquisition of the bases was “unlawful.” February 1941, RG 59: Decimal File, 1940–44. 811.34544/641. Box 3790, NAR A. 22. Alexander Zeidenfelt, “The Trinidad Base in World War II,” File: Trinidad, BWI (1942–52), Box 84, Naval Historical Center (NHC). Washington Navy Yard. Washington, DC. 23. Members of the Island Home Owners Association and their guests, for example, enjoyed special transit privileges denied nonwhites. Robert F. Hale, American Consul General to Montgomery H. Colladay, American Consul General, 7 December 1947. RG 84: Trinidad Classified Base Agreement Files, 1941–61. Box 2. NAR A. 24. Charles Taussig to Welles. March 24, 1942. Box 1, RG 84, Port of Spain (Trinidad, BWI) Consulate, NAR A. See also Henry Field, Report, March 1942, File: Henry Field. Trinidad, March 8–30, 1942, Box 57, RG 43, NAR A. 25. Trinidad and Tobago. Council Papers, 1942. Council Paper #7 of 1942. National Archives of Trinidad and Tobago (NATT). “Message of His Excellency the Acting Governor to the Legislative Council,” April 24, 1942; and, Michael Anthony, Historical Dictionary of Trinidad and Tobago (London: Scarecrow Press, 1997). 26. Editorial, “Resettlement and the U.S. Bases,” Trinidad Guardian (Wednesday, February 26, 1941), 6. 27. Hansard. Trinidad and Tobago. 1941. (Friday 17 January 1941). 2. NATT. 28. Ibid. 29. Alexander Zeidenfelt, “The Trinidad Base in World War II,” File: Trinidad, BWI (1942–52), Box 84, NHC. 30. Harvey Neptune, “Manley Rivalries and Mopsies: Gender, Nationality, and Sexuality in United States—Occupied Trinidad,” Radical History Review 87 (Fall 2003), 78–95; Harvey Neptune, “White Lies: Race and Sexuality in Occupied Trinidad,” Journal of Colonialism and Colonial History 2, 1 (2001), 78–95. 31. Attila’s lyrics quoted in Errol G. Hill, “Calypso and War,” Black American Literature Forum 23, 1 (Spring 1989), 76. 32. E. A. Leuhman, Commanding Officer, U.S. Naval Station to Chief of Naval Operations, 22 June 1960, RG 84: Trinidad Classified Base Agreement Files, 1941–61. Box 4. File 430 Tripartite Talks (5 of 5) 1960. NAR A. 33. J.M. Lee, Colonial Development and Good Government: A Study of the Ideas Expressed by the British Official Classes in Planning Decolonization, 1939–64 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967), 21–22. 34. John P. Augelli and Harry W. Taylor, “Race and Population Patterns in Trinidad,” Annals of the Association of American Geographers 50, 2 (June

264

NOTES

35.

36.

37.

38. 39.

40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47.

48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56.

57. 58. 59. 60.

1960), 129. Fraser, Ambivalent Anti-colonialism, 139. Latin American and Caribbean history has been powerfully influenced by foreign powers on the one hand and indigenous resistance to these intrusions on the other. Joseph et al., Close Encounters of Empire, 3–4. Clement B. G. London, “Forging a Cultural Identity: Leadership and Development in Mass Education in a Developing Country,” Journal of Black Studies 21, 3 (March 1991), 251–267. United States. Building the Navy’s Bases in World War II: History of Yards and Docks of the Civil Engineer Corps, 1940–1946, Volume 2 (Washington, DC: Government Printing, 1947) found in File: Trinidad, BWI (1942–52), Box 84, NHC. British Guiana’s large East Indian community managed to keep that British colony out of the West Indian Federation. Ellis A. Bonnet, American Consul to Port-of-Spain, September 4, 1947, “Proposed Federation of the British West Indies,” RG 84: Trinidad Confidential Material, 1944–47, Box 3, File: Confidential Telegram, Airgram, Despatch, Navy Correspondence, 1947, NAR A. David Lowenthal, “The West Indies Chooses a Capital,” Geographic Review 48, 3 (July 1958), 342. Study Mission in the Caribbean Area. Report of Senator George D. Aiken to Committee on Foreign Relations. U.S. Senate (Washington, DC: Government Printing, 1958). David Lowenthal, “The West Indies Chooses a Capital,” Geographic Review 48, 3 (July 1958), 346. Williams, Inward Hunger, 204; Fraser, Ambivalent Anti-colonialism, 146. Lowenthal, “The West Indies Chooses a Capital,” 364. Williams, Inward Hunger, 205; Fraser, Ambivalent Anti-colonialism, 147. Palmer, Eric Williams and the Making of the Modern Caribbean, 83. Williams, Inward Hunger, 206. Fraser, Ambivalent Anti-colonialism, 149. “Eric Williams and Chaguramas” Background Paper prepared for the Department of State. August 7, 1959. Department of State to American Embassy, London. “United States Bases in the West Indies,” August 7. 1959. RG 84: Trinidad. Classified Base Agreement Files, Box 5, File: Secret Chaguaramas, July–December 1959. NAR A. Williams, Inward Hunger, 214. Ibid., 213. Mahabir, In and Out of Politics. Williams, Inward Hunger, 212–213. Quoted in ibid., 209. Ibid., 229. Ibid., 215. Ibid., 220. Eric Williams. From Slavery to Chaguaramas. Speech Delivered by the Premier at Arima. July 17, 1959. National Library of Trinidad and Tobago (NLTT). Ibid. Speech quoted in Williams, Inward Hunger, 220. Ibid., 216. Ibid.

NOTES

265

61. Study Mission in the Caribbean Area. Report of Senator George D. Aiken to Committee on Foreign Relations. U.S. Senate (Washington, DC: Government Printing, 1958), 16. 62. Walter W. Grebaugh, U.S. Consul General, Port of Spain, “Base Problems in the West Indies and United States Policy,” March 18, 1959. RG 84: Trinidad. Port of Spain Embassy, Classified Base Agreement Files, 1941–61. Box 3. File: 1959, NAR A. 63. Ibid. 64. Ibid. 65. Ibid. 66. Ibid. 67. Ibid. 68. Intelligence Report No. 7978, “Threats to the Stability of the U.S. Military Facilities Position in the Caribbean Area and in Brazil,” Office of Research and Analysis for American Republics and Office of Research and Analysis for Western Europe, March 24, 1959, RG 84: Trinidad. Port of Spain Embassy, Classified Base Agreement Files, 1941–61. Box 3. File: 1959, NAR A. 69. Ibid. 70. Williams, Inward Hunger, 217. 71. Robert McGregor, July 13, 1959, “Interview with Dr. Eric Williams, Premier of Trinidad and Tobago,” RG 84: Trinidad. Classified Base Agreement Files, Box 5, File: Secret Chaguaramas, July–December 1959. NAR A. 72. Ibid. 73. Ibid. 74. Ibid. 75. Department of State to American Embassy, London. “United States Bases in the West Indies,” August 7, 1959. RG 84: Trinidad. Classified Base Agreement Files, Box 5, File: Secret Chaguaramas, July–December 1959. NAR A. 76. Ibid. 77. J.W. Swihart, Memorandum of Conversation, “West Indian Bases,” August 10, 1959. RG 84: Trinidad. Classified Base Agreement Files, Box 5, File: Secret Chaguaramas, July–December 1959. NAR A. 78. Ibid. 79. Ibid. 80. Ibid. 81. Memorandum of Conversation, July 11, 1959, Department of State to American Embassy, London. “United States Bases in the West Indies,” August 7, 1959. RG 84: Trinidad. Classified Base Agreement Files, Box 5, File: Secret Chaguaramas, July–December 1959. NAR A 82. Philip C. Habib, American Consul, to Department of State, “Views of DLP Leaders on Chaguaramas and Other Current Issues in Trinidad,” July 14, 1959, Department of State to American Embassy, London. “United States Bases in the West Indies,” August 7, 1959. RG 84: Trinidad. Classified Base Agreement Files, Box 5, File: Secret Chaguaramas, July–December 1959. NAR A. 83. In attendance were Milton C. Rewinkel, an acting director, James W. Swihart and North Burn. Memorandum of Conversation, “Trinidad Political Situation,”

266

NOTES

84. 85. 86.

87.

88.

89.

90.

91.

92.

93. 94.

95. 96.

97.

98.

99. 100. 101.

August 28, 1959. RG 84: Trinidad. Classified Base Agreement Files, Box 5, File: Secret Chaguaramas, July–December 1959. NARA. Ibid. Ibid. Memorandum of Conversation, September 21, 1959. RG 84: Trinidad. Classified Base Agreement Files, Box 5, File: Secret Chaguaramas, July– December 1959. NAR A. Memorandum of Conversation, “Trinidad Political Situation,” August 28, 1959. RG 84: Trinidad. Classified Base Agreement Files, Box 5, File: Secret Chaguaramas, July–December 1959. NAR A. On August 28, the Nation published a front-page editorial by C.L.R. James against anti-Americanism. Editorial, “A Little DDT on This Anti-American Rubbish,” The Nation (August 28, 1959). Moline to Department of State, August 15, 1959, RG 84: Trinidad. Classified Base Agreement Files, Box 5, File: Secret Chaguaramas, July–December 1959. NAR A. Edwin G. Moline to Milton C. Rewinkel, Deputy Director, Office of British Commonwealth and European Affairs, 1 September 1959, RG 84: Trinidad. Classified Base Agreement Files, Box 5, File: Secret Chaguaramas, July–December 1959. NAR A. Memorandum of Conversation, September 21, 1959. RG 84: Trinidad. Classified Base Agreement Files, Box 5, File: Secret Chaguaramas, July–December 1959. NAR A. Memorandum of Conversation. Oliver Woods with Edwin G. Moline, November 18, 1959, RG 84: Trinidad. Classified Base Agreement Files, Box 5, File: Secret Chaguaramas, July–December 1959. NAR A. Ibid. Extract of Press Conference held October 17, 1959 contained in dispatch from Edwin G. Moline to Department of State, “Dr. Williams and Chaguaramas—Remarks at Press Conference on October 17,” October 20, 1959. RG 84: Trinidad. Classified Base Agreement Files, Box 5, File: Secret Chaguaramas, July-December 1959. NAR A. Editorial, “Talks on Treaty Revision,” Trinidad Guardian (December 12, 1959). American Consul General, Port of Spain, “Leased Bases Agreement Discussions—Comments since Announcement on December 10,” December 15, 1959, RG 84: Trinidad. Port of Spain Embassy, Classified Base Agreement Files, 1941–61. Box 3. File: 1959, NAR A. Philip Habib, American Consul, Port of Spain, “Federal Thinking on Tripartite Talks on the 1941 Leased Base Agreement,” December 18, 1959. RG 84: Trinidad. Port of Spain Embassy, Classified Base Agreement Files, 1941–61. Box 3. File: 1959, NAR A. Edwin G. Moline, U.S. Consul General, “The West Indies and Revision of the 1941 Leased-Bases Agreement,” 25 December 1959, RG 84: Trinidad. Classified Base Agreement Files. Box 5. File: 430.3 Leased Bases, Oct-Dec 1959. NAR A. Speech quoted in Eric Williams, Inward Hunger, 223. Eric Williams, The Nation (March 11, 1960). Williams, Forged from the Love of Liberty, 317.

NOTES

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102. This point is made on the Web site of the Chaguaramas Development Agency. The march in the rain looms large in the historical narrative presented by this state agency. www.chagdev.com. 103. E.A. Leuhman, Commanding Officer, U.S. Naval Station to Chief of Naval Operations, June 22, 1960, RG 84: Trinidad Classified Base Agreement Files, 1941–61. Box 4. File 430 Tripartite Talks (5 of 5) 1960. NAR A. 104. Williams, Inward Hunger, 237. 105. Roger Hilsman, Bureau of Intelligence and Research, October 4, 1962, RG 84: Trinidad. Classified Bases Agreement Files, Box 5, File: Basic Documents, NAR A. 106. Trinidad and Tobago. Council Papers #18. 1960. “West Indies Bases Talks—Stage II (Trinidad and Tobago), Summary of Conclusions,” December 16, 1960. NATT; The text of the agreement can be found in the West Indian Gazette 4, 8 (Friday, February 24, 1961). 107. Edwin G. Moline, American Consul General, “US-TWI Sign New Defense Areas Agreement,” February 27, 1961, RG 84: Trinidad. Port of Spain Embassy. Classified Base Agreement Files, 1941–1961. Box 3. File 430.3 Leased Bases Agreement. February–December 1961. 108. Ibid. 109. Secretary of State, Washington to American Consul General, Port of Spain, February 6, 1961, RG 84: Trinidad. Port of Spain Embassy. Classified Base Agreement Files, 1941–1961. Box 3. File 430.3 Leased Bases Agreement. February–December 1961. 110. Edwin G. Moline, American Consul General, “US-TWI Sign New Defense Areas Agreement,” February 27, 1961, RG 84: Trinidad. Port of Spain Embassy. Classified Base Agreement Files, 1941–1961. Box 3. File 430.3 Leased Bases Agreement. February–December 1961. NAR A. 111. Quoted in ibid. 112. Ibid. 113. Roger Hilsman, Bureau of Intelligence and Research, October 4, 1962, RG 84: Trinidad. Classified Bases Agreement Files, Box 5, File: Basic Documents, NAR A. 114. Ibid. 115. Ibid. 116. Ibid. 117. Joel Primus, “Joining the Struggle,” Guardian (Friday, July 30, 2004). See also George John, “Waiting for Twenty-four,” Trinidad Express (Wednesday, May 26, 2004). 118. Rueben Wilkes, letter, “Chaguaramas Belongs to the People of TT,” Sunday Guardian (August 18, 1991), 10. 119. Kenneth Ramchand, “West Indian Literary History: Literariness, Orality and Periodization,” Callaolo 34 (Winter 1988), 98. 120. “Chaguaramas—One of the Country’s Most Significant, Social and Political Regions,” Express (May 3, 1985). 121. “From Wasteland to Wonderland,” Express (September 3, 1990), 19. 122. Express (July 29, 1974) 123. Dr. Martin Sampath, “Chag Is for Us All!” Express (July 6, 1975). 124. “Chaguaramas Needs Action,” Express (July 5, 1988), 19. 125. “Cherish Chag,” Express (April 11, 1984).

268

NOTES

126. 127. 128. 129. 130. 131. 132. 133. 134. 135. 136. 137.

138. 139. 140. 141. 142. 143. 144. 145. 146. 147. 148. 149. 150. 151. 152. 153. 154. 155. 156.

Leslie Brunton, “What’s to Become of Chag” Express (April 11, 1976). “Battle for Chaguaramas,” Trinidad Guardian (March 21, 1988), 9. Ancient Mariner, Trinidad Guardian (April 4, 1988). Suzanne Lopez, “Chaguaramas in Need of Proper Planning—Says General Manager,” Express (April 10, 1984). Alwin Chow, “The Chaguaramas Development Authority—Born to Lose,” Trinidad Guardian (August 24, 1986). “Does the US Have Right of Re-entry?” Express (April 22, 1984). Alwin Chow, “Chaguaramas: Symbol of Independence,” Trinidad Guardian (August 3, 1986). Ibid. Leslie Brunton, “What’s to Become of Chag,” Express (April 11, 1976). “Does the US Have Right of Re-entry?” Express (April 22, 1984). “Regaining Paradise Lost,” Trinidad Guardian (May 24, 1987), 3. One PNM cabinet minister, for example, told the media in 1987 that Chaguaramas “represented a psychological break with the past and a major step in the process of decolonization.” In “$$ available for planning of Chaguaramas,” Express (July 21, 1987), 31. “Youthquake” at Chagfest,” Express (August 18, 1989), 2. “Three Days of Fun and Excitement,” Trinidad Guardian (August 4, 1994), 27. “Chag Competition,” Kids Guardian (January 16, 1994), 7. Haven Allahar, “Back to Chaguaramas,” Express (October 12, 1998), 12. Rueben Wilkes, “Chaguaramas Belongs to the People of TT.” Simon Lee Trinidad Guardian (July 2, 1995), 21–22. Ibid. Ibid. Eden Shand, “Shaping ‘Chag’ into a True National Park,” Express (April 4, 1996). Ibid. “Group in New Move to Regain Ownership of Tucker Valley Land,” Trinidad Guardian (March 10, 1988), 5. Sunday Express (April 22, 1984), 18. Ibid. “Back-to-Chag Committee Demonstration,” Trinidad Guardian (January 14, 1975). Sunday Express (April 22, 1984), 18. Ibid. O’Brian Claude quoted in Sandra Chouthi, “Long Road Back to Tucker Valley,” Express (July 10, 1988), 17, 21. Theron Boodan, “Chaguaramas Landowners Take Their Case to the Privy Council,” Newsday (January 16, 2001), 20. “Injustice to Tardieu family,” Letter to Editor, Trinidad Guardian (November 18, 1993), 8.

Conclusion: Stepping Stones to New Empires 1. Hanson W. Baldwin, “Problems of Defending Hemisphere Are Many,” New York Times (January 2, 1940), 70.

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2. Hanson W. Baldwin, “Our Deal with Britain Affects a World’s Strategical Picture,” New York Times (September 8, 1940), 77. 3. Ibid. 4. Eleanor Roosevelt, “My Day,” Wednesday March 30, 1944, File: “My Day, March–April 1944,” Box 3148, Eleanor Roosevelt Papers, Franklin D. Roosevelt Library. 5. The naval air station in St. Lucia was reduced to caretaker status in September 1943, Jamaica’s in September 1944, British Guiana’s in November 1944, and the Great Exuma station in the Bahamas in June 1945. 6. A. Elwell Reid, Jr., “Many First Anniversary Celebrations in TBC,” Trinidad Guardian (May 8, 1942), 7. 7. B. Clifford, Governor of Trinidad to Secretary of State for the Colonies, January 22, 1944, DO 35/1736. PRO. 8. After the war had broken out, but before Pearl Harbor, the importation of U.S. newsreels into Trinidad had been greatly curtailed by a “gentleman’s agreement” between the Trinidad government and the distributors of U.S. newsreels. With the entry of the United States into the war, this gentleman’s agreement was replaced by the quota system. 9. A.B. Wright, Government House, Trinidad to Colonial Office, September 29, 1943, Governor’s Letters Volume 1939–41. Trinidad and Tobago Archives. 10. Hansard. Trinidad and Tobago. 1941. December 19, 1941. Cinematograph (Amendment) Ordinance, 1941. 11. Wright, Government House, Trinidad to Colonial Office, September 29, 1943. 12. The Foreign Office, which had originated the idea, hoped that the lessons learned could be applied to the Pacific where similar issues were expected to arise after the war. F. Kennedy, August 12, 1943, CO 971/21/7. PRO. 13. B. Clifford, Governor of Trinidad to Secretary of State for the Colonies, January 22, 1944, DO 35/1736. PRO. 14. Ibid. 15. P. Rogers, Minute, February 26, 1944, responding to British Guiana Report, CO 971/21/7. PRO. 16. P. Roget, March 31, 1945, CO 971/27 US Base Information to Cabinet. PRO. 17. Governor Gordon Lethem, British Guiana, 1 December 1944, CO 971/27 U.S. Base Information to Cabinet. PRO. 18. Clifford, Governor of Trinidad to Secretary of State for the Colonies, January 22, 1944. 19. Sir Bede Clifford, Governor of Trinidad to T.I.K. Lloyd (Colonial Office). February 15, 1944. 81868. CO 971/21/7. PRO. 20. Ibid.

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Index

Adams, Bentley, 181, 182, 184, 186, 189 Adams, Grantley, 192 African Americans, 107 Bermuda, 46–47, 122 British Caribbean, 101, 104–105 deployment of, 38–41, 200 exclusion of, 5, 160 importation of, 123, 200 Panama Canal Zone, 120–21 promiscuity label, 123 see also blacks “African loafer,” label of, 239n106 Aiken, George D., 184 Alaska, 20, 21 American Indians, 53 Americanization, 201 exclusion and, 5 American Revolution, 44 Amerika, 1 Anglo-American Caribbean Commission, 107, 115, 119 Anglo-American cooperation, 7, 26–27, 39, 106, 199 Anglo-Newfoundland Development Company, 78, 86, 87 anopheles mosquito, 9 anti-base movements, 261n5 anticolonialism, see anti-imperialism Antigua, 1, 16, 25, 30, 34, 98, 104, 105, 109, 113, 192, 202 base location, 33 blacks, 93 criminal jurisdiction, 166 labor unrest, 99, 109 population and area of, 97 Puerto Rican troops in, 39

racial violence, 166–67 shootings, 166 staples exports, 97 sugar industry, 96 troop strength, 41 U.S. soldiers’ violence, 103–104 Antiguan Magnet, 99, 104, 166 Antigua Star, 115 Antigua Trades and Labour Union, 115 anti-imperialism, 24, 176, 177, 183, 188, 190, 195 anti-modernism, 220n5 anti-occupation movements, 261n5 anti-Semitism Bermuda, 47 Newfoundland, 147–48 anti-submarine operations, 34–35, 37 anti-whiteism, 188 Argentia (Newfoundland), 9, 32–33, 67, 69, 71, 73, 82, 141–42, 144–48 photographs of, 70, 71, 73, 75, 77, 79, 83, 89 transformation of, 71 Aruba, 21, 39 Atlantic Fleet, 21 Atlantic Ocean, 18, 19, 20, 21, 23, 26, 36 British fleet in, 19, 21 importance of Bermuda in, 31 importance of Newfoundland in, 67 Atlantic Squadron, 20 Atlas Construction Company, 80 Attila, 180 Australia criminal jurisdiction, 159 friendly invasions, 206n12

282

INDEX

Avalon Peninsula (Newfoundland), 32, 67, 70 Azores, importation of labor from, 123, 125, 127 Back to Chag Action Committee (BTCAC), 197 Bahamas, 1, 16, 25, 30, 100, 159–60, 202, 218n116 base location, 33 economic prosperity, 98 franchise, 160 Jim Crow racism, 160 jury selection, 163 labor unrest, 99 pineapple industry, 98 police force, 36 population and area of, 97 poverty, 98 segregation, 133 sponge industry, 98 U.S. withdrawal from base, 269n5 Bailey, Beth: The First Strange Place, 3 Baker, Harry, 122 Baldwin, Hanson W., 26, 199 Bank of Bermuda, 124 Barbados, 99, 116, 180, 181, 192 laborers from, 114–15, 125, 127 racial discrimination, 181 Barbuda, 235n30 base location, 4, 5, 29, 30 Board of Experts established to examine, 30–36 controversy in Bermuda, 47–50, 53 tourist politics of in Bermuda, 43–65 see also under individual base sites Bases Agreement, see Leased Bases Agreement “Basilon Street” brawl, 38 Bates, Robert C., 161 Battershill, Sir William, 162 Battle of Britain, 23 Beck, William H., 49, 124 Belgium, 212n19 criminal jurisdiction in, 158 Belize, 28, 99 Bell, James R., 151 Bell Island (Newfoundland), 31, 80, 86, 88 Bentley, A.W., 86

Berle, A.A., Jr., 39, 40 Bermuda, 1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 11, 12, 16, 20, 22, 25, 30, 36, 41, 50, 51, 52, 98, 100, 159–60, 199, 202 Acquisition of Land Act, 224n68 agriculture, 126 anti-Semitism, 47 architectural style, 63 Base Command, 10, 122, 131, 132, 168 base construction, 117–35 base location, 31–32, 33, 43–65 blacks in, 14, 45–46, 47, 55, 61, 65, 118, 121, 124, 125, 129, 132–33, 134, 167 black trade union movement, 134 Board of Public Works, 58, 60, 61 British military presence, 37 civil rights movement, 133 class, 46–47, 56, 124, 134, 199 command politics, 37 conscription of labor, 127–29 cost of living, 119, 129–30 creation of as island resort, 45–47 criminal jurisdiction, 157, 167–68, 171, 172 customs duties, 118 H.M. Dockyard, 118, 120, 124, 125–29 early history of, 43–47 Essential Work (General) Order, 128 exclusivity of, 45 expropriation of property, 55–60 Food and Supplies Control Board, 130 franchise, 46, 129, 134, 160, 220n11 government racism, 118 Hotel Keepers Act (1930), 118, 160 illegitimacy, 118 Imperial Censorship Office, 120 imports, 119, 123 interventionist approach, 134 Jim Crow racism, 117–35, 160 jury selection, 163 labor control, 126–29 labor shortage, 123, 125–29 labor unrest, 125, 132–33 language, American influence on, 201 local vs. U.S. workers, 121–25, 127, 131

INDEX

Manpower Commission, 128–29 Masters and Servants Act, 119 Motor Car Bill (1908), 46 motor vehicles, ban on, 46, 62–64, 201 nonwhite labor, importation of, 123, 125, 127, 129 Official Arbitrators, 55, 57, 59–60, 62 opposition to U.S. bases, 121 police force, 167 Poor Law Act, 119 Portuguese residents, 118 Progressive Labour Party, 135 property value, 56–60 prosperity, 121, 123 race, 5, 38, 45–46, 53, 56, 59, 61, 118–20, 122–23, 124, 129, 132–34, 160, 199, 200–201, 214n48 racial conflict, 124, 132–33, 167–68 racial segregation, 118, 129, 133–35 reaction to destroyers-for-bases deal, 29, 32 refusal to implement labor and social reforms, 119 removal of inhabitants, 57–60, 179 rent control, 130–31 resettlement of inhabitants, 60–62 shipbuilding industry, 44 slavery, 44, 118 social control, 46–47 strategic importance of, 31 strikes, 125, 127 Supreme Court, 168 taxation, 118–19 tobacco industry, 43–44 tourism, 43–65, 117, 118, 119, 133 tourism politics, 43–65 tourist aesthetic, 55–57 Trade Development Board, 46–47 Trade Union and Trade Dispute Act (1946), 133 trade unionism, 118–19, 124–25, 132–33, 134 unemployment, 120 United States and, 44–45, 48–50, 54, 57–60, 63, 120–21, 124, 125, 131–32

283

United States Bases Act, 168, 224n68 venereal disease, 122–23, 149 wages, 117, 120, 123–25, 128–34, 200–201 war, effects of, 44, 47, 121 wartime inflation, 131 War-Time Supplies Commission, 130 white elite, 32, 38, 44–47, 50, 52, 53, 117, 120, 124, 134 white locals, employment of, 200 whites, 45, 46, 53, 56, 59, 117, 118, 121, 134 women, 129, 132 working conditions, 129 work week, 131–32 “Bermuda Aesthetic,” 46, 60, 61, 64 Bermuda Base Agreement, 63 Bermuda Committee, 48–49, 53, 54, 123 Bermuda Council of International Affairs, 221n29 Bermuda Dockyard Agreement Workmen’s Association, 130 Bermuda Dockyard Local Workingmen’s Association, 130 Bermuda Electric Light and Power Company, 126, 128 Bermuda Industrial Union, 118, 133–34 Bermuda Labour Board, 120, 123–25, 126–29, 131–33, 200 Bermuda Labour Service Corps, 120 Bermuda Longshoremen’s Association, 132 Bermuda Railway Company, 126 Bermuda Transportation Company, 123 Bermuda Workers’ Association, 118, 124, 125, 132–33 Bernard, Sir Denis, 7, 48, 53–54 binding arbitration, 88 Bird, V.C, 115 Bishop, W.R.D., 74 Bissell, Richard, 186–87 blacks, 4 Antigua, 93 Bermuda, 14, 45–46, 47, 55, 61, 65, 118, 121, 124, 125, 129, 132–33, 134, 167

284

INDEX

blacks—continued British Caribbean, 39, 93, 98, 104–105 British Guiana, 162 criminal jurisdiction, 161–63, 165, 167, 171 importation of, 100, 122, 127, 129 Jamaica, 103 Panama Canal Zone, 100, 120 Trinidad, 38, 40, 94 see also African Americans Blanchfield, Rosie, 197 Blanshard, Paul, 98 Block, Dolores, 63 Board of Experts (Greenslade Board), 30–36, 38, 41, 47, 49, 53, 120, 178 “Report on Adequacy and Future Development of the Naval Shore Establishment,” 30–31 Boersen Zeitung, 28 Boland, Maurice J., 147 Bolivia, 28 Bolland, O. Nigel, 96, 98, 99 Bonaparte, Napoleon, 26 Borden, Marie, 55 Botwood (Newfoundland), 70 Boulos Basha, Margaret, 148 Boulos brothers, 148–49, 155 Bowater’s Newfoundland, 78, 86, 87 Bowring Brothers, 148 Bragdon, Kathleen, 53 Brant, Gerald, 169, 170 Brereton, Bridget, 98 British Caribbean, 3, 4, 5, 12, 21, 22, 25, 122, 161, 180, 199, 202 attitudes toward bases, 101 base construction, 107–15 blacks, 39, 93, 98, 104–105 class, 98, 99–100, 114, 200 colonial oppression, 96 colonial policy, 101 color distinctions, 98 commuting of workers, 94 cost of living, 113 court bias, 165 criminal jurisdiction, 157, 171, 172, 173 defining moments in history of, 101 dignity of residents, 93

dispute arbitration, 96 food supply, 113 franchise, 98–99 imperial policy, 100 interracial contact, 99 invasiveness of U.S. personnel, 94 Jim Crow racism, 93, 96, 98, 100, 102–103, 105, 106, 159 job creation in, 93, 95 jury selection, 162–63 labor and base construction, 107–15 labor revolt, 96–100, 101, 115 labor shortage, 113 land redistribution, 96 layoffs, 114–15 local vs. U.S. workers, 105 Moyne Commission, 100, 119 plantation agriculture, 96–100 pro-American feeling, 93 race and labor in, 93–116 race relations, 38, 106, 159, 162, 165–67, 200 racial violence, 165–67 slavery, 99, 101 social inequality, 99 strikes, 99, 107, 112–13 Taussig visit, 101 trade unionism, 96, 100, 101, 108–109, 236n39, 242n158 United States and, 96, 100–107, 115 wages, 96, 107–109, 112–13, 123 white elite, 98, 100 white vs. nonwhite guards, 11, 41, 96, 104 working conditions, 96 see also British West Indies British Guiana, 1, 10, 16, 25, 30, 34, 36, 202–203, 234n14, 242n158 base location, 33 bauxite, 31 blacks, 162 criminal jurisdiction, 161, 165–66 East Indian immigration, 96, 97, 264n37 franchise, 98–99 jury selection, 163 labor unrest, 99, 109–10 layoffs, 115 Manpower Citizens’ Association (MPCA), 109

INDEX

mixed race population, 97 police force, 36 political dissent, 99 population and area of, 97 Portuguese population, 97 Puerto Rican troops in, 39 race, 102, 161–62, 167 slavery, 97 social unrest, 99–100 strategic importance of, 35 strikes, 113, 236n39 sugar industry, 96, 113 trade unionism, 110, 116 troop strength, 41 U.S. withdrawal from base, 269n5 British Guiana Labour Union (BGLU), 109, 236n39 British Trades Union Council, 125 British Virgin Islands, 235n30 British West Indies: independence of, 175–77 reaction to location of capital, 181 see also British Caribbean; West Indian Federation Brooks, John, 260n97 Brooks, Stanley Truman, 29 Brown, Frances, 17, 22 Browne, G. St. J. Orde: “Report on Labour Conditions in the West Indies,” 99 Bruton, Philip G., 78, 80, 82–83, 143, 144 Buchan-Hepburn, Patrick, see Lord Hailes Buchans Mining Company, 85–86, 87 Burchell, Charles, 68 Burdett, William C., 194 Bussey, Gertrude C., 215n67 Butler, Neville, 57 Cadigan, Sean, 232n86 Cahill, Michael, 172–73 Campbell, George F., 102 Campbell, Sir John, 3 Campbell, Sir Ronald, 39 Canada, 5, 22, 23, 31, 78 bases in Newfoundland, 69–70, 141 criminal jurisdiction, 159 presence in Bahamas, 218n121 presence in Bermuda, 218n121 presence in British Guiana, 218n121

285

presence in Jamaica, 37, 218n121 presence in Newfoundland, 37, 38 Royal Canadian Air Force, 37, 67 Royal Canadian Navy, 67, 79 strategic value of Newfoundland to, 67 union with Newfoundland, 160, 172, 226n4 United States and, 173 Visiting Forces Act, 173 Cann, E.A., 132 Capildeo, Rudranath, 193 Capildeo, Simboonath, 187–88 capitalism, 178 Caribbean British, see British Caribbean Dutch, 21 French, 21 Caribbean Advisory Board, 103 Caribbean Economic Community (Caricom), 196 Caribbean Labour Conference, 116 Caribbean Sea, 31, 36 Caroni Swamp (Trinidad), 34, 178 Castries (St. Lucia), 115, 235n28 Castro, Fidel, 194 Cedeno, Isaac, 197 Centre for Newfoundland Studies, 71 Chaguanas (Trinidad), 34 Chaguaramas naval base (Trinidad), 11, 110, 111, 175–98 American withdrawal from, 192, 194 as capital of West Indies, 181 demise of, 195 desire to return to, 197 Macqueripe Club, 179, 193, 195 military vs. commercial activities, 183 symbolic importance of, 190 as symbol of imperialism, 176–77, 182 waterfront development, 196 Eric Williams and, 180–91 Chaguaramas Development Authority (CDA), 195–97 Chaguaramas Joint Commission, 182, 186 Chaguaramas National Park, 195 Childs, Prescott, 21–22 China criminal jurisdiction, 159 war with Japan, 19

286

INDEX

Chow, Alwin, 195 Christensen, William H., 93, 104 Christian Science Monitor, 29 Churchill, Winston, 3, 5, 23–25, 49, 157 Cistrine, Sir Walter, 125 City of Birmingham, 130 civilian guards, use of, 11, 41, 96, 104 civil rights movement, Bermuda, 133 class Bermuda, 46–47, 56, 124, 134, 200 British Caribbean, 98, 115–16, 200 Newfoundland, 72, 92 race and, 95–96, 99–100, 114, 115–16, 124, 134, 179, 200 Trinidad, 179 Clifford, Sir Bede, 38, 106, 203 cocoa industry, 97 collective bargaining, 86, 110, 125, 227n7 Colombia, 28–29 Colonial Development and Welfare Act (1940), 100 colonial encounters, 4 colonial government, 31, 38, 44, 47, 48, 57, 64, 76, 95, 97, 100, 108–10, 120, 134, 157, 158, 162, 164, 171, 173, 174, 200 colonialism, 2, 3, 26, 99, 101, 106, 109, 176–77, 178, 179, 182, 184, 190, 201 base colonies as “shop window” for, 106, 201 U.S. criticism of, 3, 180, see also imperialism Colonial Office, see Great Britain colonial oppression, 96, 198 colonial order, destabilization of, 4, 38 Columbus, Christopher, 183 command, politics of, 36–41 compensation for relocation, 59–62, 78, 140–42, 145–46, 154 Conception Bay (Newfoundland), 31 concurrent jurisdiction, 157–58, 162, 165, 171 Conn, Stetson, 19 Constantine, Stephen, 99 contact zones, 4 Cooper, Frederick, 2

Corner Brook (Newfoundland), 70, 78, 86–87, 146 courts martial, 166, 157, 161, 164, 167–70, 255n24 Cox, J.W., 208n28 Crabbs Peninsula (Antigua), 107 Creech-Jones, Arthur, 76, 108–109 Creoles, 4, 100, 103, 105, 106, 111–12, 114, 177, 180, 240n117 mixing with U.S. personnel, 106 criminal jurisdiction, 4, 5, 6, 68, 103, 202 concurrent, 157–58, 162, 165, 171 debates on, 158–60 exceptionalism of Newfoundland, 164–65, 168–71 postwar era, 172–73 racial politics of, 157–74 United States and, 6, 157–58, 161, 163–64, 167, 170–71, 172–73 Critchlow, Hubert N., 109, 236n39 Cuba, 20, 22, 28, 209n52 Cumuto (Trinidad), 94, 180, 182 Curacao, 21, 39 customs duties, 5, 6, 68, 97, 118, 130, 157, 202, 208n29 Czechoslovakia, 20 Daily Gleaner (Jamaica), 8, 102 Daily Herald (Great Britain), 27 Daily Mail (Great Britain), 27 Daily Telegraph (Great Britain), 27 Dallin, John V., 102 Darlan, Jean-François, 23 Davis-Bacon Act (1931), 229n35, 229n42 Dawes, Curtis, 111, 112 decolonization, 16, 94, 180, 198, 268n37 Defense Areas Agreement (DAA), 191–94 demise of, 194 London meeting, 191 signing of, 192 Tobago meeting, 191, 193 Degazon, F.E., 106 democracy, 8, 19, 67, 106, 160, 255n18 Denmark, 212n19 deployment, politics of, 36–41 depression, 3, 76, 96, 117, 160, 227n7

INDEX

De Silva, Frederick, 126 “destroyers-for-bases” deal, 1–3, 16, 17–18, 47, 141, 176, 199 compromise in, 25 making of, 23–25 reaction to, 26–29 western hemisphere and, 18–22 see also Leased Bases Agreement Devers, Jacob L., 30, 33, 38, 120, 216n91 discipline, race and, 103–104, 158, 165 discrimination, racial, 98, 100–101, 102, 118, 122–23, 125, 129, 148, 159, 181, 200 “dollars or dignity” framework, 93, 95, 106 Domingo, W.A., 27 Dominica, 235n30 Dominican Republic, 28 Dominion Steel and Coal Corporation, 80, 86 Dorr, Julia, 45–46, 53 Drake, Cyril, 72 Drescher, Seymour, 178 Dulles, Foster, 39 Dunfield, Brian, 173 Dunn, P.D.H., 87, 90–91 Dutch Guiana, 35 Dutton, Eric, 53 Earle, Leslie, 170 East Africa, 162 East Indians, immigrants to British Caribbean, 96, 112, 113, 180, 264n37 economic inequality, 99 economic prosperity, 2, 98 economic stability, 19 economy, 101, 159 Bermuda, 43, 44, 48, 52, 117, 120–23, 133 British Caribbean, 101, 107, 184 Newfoundland, 74, 85–91 Ecuador, 28 Edmund B. Alexander, 1–2 Eisenhower, Dwight D., 38 elite, black, 103 elite, white Bermuda, 32, 44–47, 50, 52, 53, 117, 120, 124, 134

287

British Caribbean, 98, 100 Newfoundland, 80, 96 Trinidad, 4, 38, 95, 160, 177, 198 El Tiempo (Colombia), 28–29 Emerson, L.E., 142, 147, 148, 164–65, 169, 171, 174, 208n28 empire British, see imperialism formal vs. informal, 3, 22, 181, 205n10 fractured nature of, 2 lack of internal homogeneity of, 2 Engelman, Rose C., 19 Essequibo River, 36, 107 Evans, Griffith C., Jr., 122 Evans, Michael, 172 Evening Telegram (Newfoundland), 82, 91 exclusion, racial, 5, 38, 98, 100, 122, 148, 160, 196 expropriation of property Bermuda, 55–60 Newfoundland, 140–41, 144 Fairchild, Byron, 19 Falkland Islands, 28 Farber, David: The First Strange Place, 3 Ferrell, William, 167 First World War, see World War I fishing industry, Newfoundland, 68, 69, 74, 77, 88, 89–91, 137, 160 Flowers Cove (Newfoundland), 73 food standards, 12–13 Forbes, James, 114 forestry industry, Newfoundland, 77, 88 Fort Bell (Bermuda), 121–22, 125 Fort McAndrew (Newfoundland), 67, 69 Fort Pepperrell (Newfoundland), 67, 69, 82, 170 strike at, 84 Fort Read (Trinidad), 95 Fortune Magazine, 93 Fox, Archibald A., 55 Fox, H.M., 61 Fox, Solomon T.J., 55, 56 France, 18, 20, 21, 159, 199, 212n19 criminal jurisdiction in, 158 fall of Bastille, 177

288

INDEX

franchise, 159 Bahamas, 160 Bermuda, 46, 129, 134, 160, 220n11 British Caribbean, 98–99, 112 women’s, 129, 220n11 Francis, Sir Brooke, 168 Fraser, Cary, 182, 194 Fraser, R.D., 142 Frazer, E. Franklin, 96 “French debacle”, 23 French Guiana, 35 Frenkel, Stephen, 5 friendly invasions, 1, 3, 8, 68, 115, 206n12 Gallant, Andrew E., 145 Gallant, Arsene V., 148, 156 Gander (Newfoundland), 33, 37, 70, 80, 147 Garveyism, 99 Gaultois, Francis, 153 Gaultois brothers, 148–49, 154–55 gender, 3, 180 Georgetown (British Guiana), 102, 109 Germany, 1, 18, 19, 20, 23, 35, 206n16, 212n19 alliance with Italy, 20–21 reaction to destroyers-for-bases deal, 28 submarine strikes in Caribbean, 112–13 Gibbons, Morris A., 56 Gilpatrick, Jerome E., 9, 72 Giornale D’Italia, 28 Glourde, O’Brian, 197 Gomes, Albert, 112, 116 Goose Bay (Labrador), 37, 69 Gordon, E.F., 133 Gorvin, J.H., 90, 146–47 Grand Bank (Newfoundland), 90 Grand Falls (Newfoundland), 78, 146 Great Britain, 1, 20, 21, 97 Allied Forces Act (1940), 159 appointment of colonial governors, 99 benevolence of vs. U.S. racism, 106 Bermuda and, 43, 49, 57, 133 Chaguaramas and, 176, 181–82, 189 Colonial Development and Welfare Act (1940), 119

Colonial Office, 100, 103, 105, 106, 119, 159, 162–64, 172, 188, 202–203, 214n48 commitment to maintenance of colonies, 180 Contagious Disease Act, 252n68 criminal jurisdiction, 158–60 cultural influence, 201–202 friendly invasions, 206n12 imperial policy, 100, 106 Judicial Committee of the Privy Council, 197 Leased Bases Agreement, 5, 173 media reaction to destroyers-for-bases deal, 27 neutrality of, 181–82 Newfoundland and, 4, 68, 75–76, 140–41, 160 overseas expansion strategies, 3 pride in empire, 99 reaction to Caribbean food shortages, 113 reaction to Puerto Rican troops, 39–40 reaction to U.S. racial prejudice, 106 relations with U.S., 7–8, 26–27, 173 reputation of in U.S., 99 Royal Navy, 18, 21, 44 “slum empire” of, 3, 97 threats to survival of, 18, 21, 23 trade unionism, 119 Trinidad and, 177, 201–202 troop deployment, 36–37 U.S. forces in, 171 wage issue in Caribbean, 108–109 War Cabinet, 24, 31 West Indian Federation, 181, 187 see also colonialism; imperialism Great Circle Route, 67, 215n80, 215n82 Great Exuma Island (Bahamas), 34, 107, 218n116, 269n5 Great Sound (Bermuda), 32, 44, 48–49, 54 Grebaugh, Walter W., 184 Greenslade, John W., 30–36, 47–50, 65, 120, 178, 216n90 Greenslade Agreement, 120–23, 132 Greenslade Board, see Board of Experts Gros Islet Bay (St. Lucia), 36, 107

INDEX

Guadeloupe, 97 Guam, 205n10 Guantanamo Bay (Cuba), 20, 33, 209n52 Guardian (Trinidad), 63, 94–95, 179, 189, 193, 194, 196, 201 Guatemala, 28 Guinness, Walter, see Lord Moyne Guyana, see British Guiana Haiti, 28, 262n5 U.S. occupation of, 5, 22, 107 Hallinger, Earl S., 152 Hamilton (Bermuda), 44, 51, 125–26 Hanrahan, Joseph, 70 Harbour Breton (Newfoundland), 70, 73 Harmon Field (Newfoundland), 67, 69, 140, 148–53, 155 Hastie, William, 103 Havana Conference, 22 Hawaii, 3, 19, 20, 21, 205n10 Hawley-Smoot Tariff, 44 Hayward, C.H.L., 223n63 Hayward, Sophia, 61 health/health measures, 5, 6, 34 see also mosquito control; venereal disease Heaney, James, 82 hemispheric defense Greenslade Board and, 30–36 U.S. and, 17–42 Henniker-Heaton, Herbert, 59, 129 Heroux, Desmond, 197 Higgs, Howard Roy, 57 Hindenburg, 215n82 Hitler, Adolf, 214n49 Hochoy, Sir Solomon, 192, 194 Holland, 212n19 Hopper, George D., 68, 84, 152–53, 169, 171 Horne, Gerald: Cold War in a Hot Zone, 93–94 Houlihan, James, 82 Howell, E., 142 Huggins, J., 103 Hulan, Mack, 149 Hull, Cordell, 25, 39, 141, 142, 244n26

289

Hutcheson, James, 63–64 Hyde, L.M., 90 immorality, 3–4 imperialism, 3, 27, 54, 99, 100, 106, 159, 183, 199 Chaguaramas as symbol of, 16, 176–77 United States, 4, 5, 22, 106 see also colonialism indentured servants, 96, 177 India, 96, 209n52 indigenous people, removal of, 5 inhabitants, removal of, 4, 6, 9, 202 Bermuda, 57–60, 179 Newfoundland, 68, 179 Trinidad, 179, 197–98 Inter-Caribbean Labor Party, 27, 263n21 Irwin, John, 186 Italy alliance with Germany, 20–21 reaction to destroyers-for-bases deal, 28 Jagen, Janet, 191 Jamaica, 1, 5, 8, 16, 25, 30, 97, 180, 181, 192, 202 base location, 33 British military presence, 37 command politics, 37 criminal jurisdiction, 157 employment discrimination, 102–103 food scarcity, 103 independence, 194 jury selection, 163–64 labor unrest, 99 population and area of, 97 Puerto Rican troops in, 39 racial problems, 101, 102–103 trade unionism, 110 troop strength, 41 unemployment, 103 U.S. withdrawal from base, 269n5 James, C.L.R., 187, 191 James, R.S., 143–44 Japan, 20, 206n16 anti-base movements, 261n5 war with China, 19 Jardine, Sir Douglas, 166–67 Jarvis, Michael, 44

290

INDEX

Jefferson, Thomas, 17, 26 Jim Crow racism, 4, 27, 29, 201, 202, 203 Bahamas, 160 Bermuda, 117–35, 160 British Caribbean, 93, 96, 98, 100, 102–103, 105, 106, 159 Panama Canal Zone, 120–21 signage, 105 Trinidad, 177 Joint Planning Committee (JPC), 20, 30 Jones, Joseph M., 93 jury selection, 161–64 Kennedy, Joseph, 23, 24 Kennedy-Purvis, Sir Charles, 120, 126 Kenney, Paul A., 122 Kerr, Philip, see Lord Lothian Kids Guardian (Trinidad and Tobago), 196 King, Archibald, 158 King, William H., 24 Kingston (Jamaica), 37, 102, 181 Knox, Frank, 75, 101, 170–71 labor base construction and, 107–15 conscription of, 127–29 control of, 117, 126–29 gold vs. silver, 100, 120–21 importation of, 114–15, 123, 125, 127, 129 race and, 93–116 labor demand, Newfoundland, 72, 86–87, 91 labor reform, 119 labor revolt, British Caribbean, 96–100, 101, 115 labor shortage Bermuda, 123, 125–29 British Caribbean, 113 Newfoundland, 87–88 Trinidad, 114 labor turnover, Newfoundland, 68–69, 85–86 labor unrest Antigua, 99, 109 Bahamas, 99 Bermuda, 125, 132–33 British Guiana, 99, 109–10

Jamaica, 99 St. Lucia, 99 Trinidad, 99 Labrador, 69, 88 LaFitte, Joan, 148 Lake, Marilyn, 3 Lamb, Gilbert, 55 Lamb, Grover, 55 La Opinion (Ciudad Trujillo), 29 Latin America Nazi revolution in, 21 reaction to destroyers-for-bases deal, 28–29 “lazy native,” myth of, 5, 12, 68, 92, 109, 210n62 Leahy, William D., 23 Lears, Jackson, 220n5 Leased Bases Agreement, 3, 4, 5–7, 40, 157, 164, 171, 182, 183–84 Article 4, 157, 161–64, 171, 172–73 Article 20, 6 end of, 192 Protocol #6, 38 renegotiation of, 186–91 see also “destroyers-for-bases” deal LeDrew, Abraham, 170 Lee, Simon, 196 Lee, Ulysses: The Employment of Negro Troops, 38 Leeward Islands, 5, 98, 180 Lethem, Sir Gordon, 163, 208n28 Liddell, Thomas K., 227n6 Lindon, A.G.V., 112 Little Goat Island (Jamaica), 34, 107, 111, 112 Local Combined Defence Committees, 37 logging industry, Newfoundland, 68, 69, 86–87 London Times, 27, 189 Long Bird Island (Bermuda), 50, 58 Lord Hailes (Patrick Buchan-Hepburn), 192 Lord Halifax (Edward Wood), 25 Lord Lothian (Philip Kerr), 24–25 Lord Moyne (Walter Guinness), 100, 119 Louisiana Purchase, 17, 26, 27, 199 Lourdes (Newfoundland), 89, 143 Luehman, E.A., 191

INDEX

MacLeod, Iain, 191 MacNeil, N., 90 Magna Charta, 169 Mahabir, Winston, 182, 261n4 Major, John, 21 malarial control, see mosquito control malnutrition, 96, 113 Manchester Guardian, 27 Manley, Michael, 181 Manley, Norman, 101 Manning, Patrick, 196 Markland (Newfoundland), 88–89 Marshall, Eric, 126 Martin, Edwin W., 130 Martinique, 35 Martyn, Charles “Charley,” 154–55 Marxism, 99 Mayle, N.L., 162 McDowall, Duncan, 46, 220n15 McGregor, Robert, 185 McIsaac, Richard J., 148, 154 McNarney, J.T., 40 Memorial University Folklore Archives, 209nn40–41 mining industry, Newfoundland, 68, 77, 86, 88 Moline, Edwin G., 186, 188–89, 193 Monroe, James, 18–19 Monroe Doctrine, 19, 22 Monserrat, 235n30 Moore, Sally F., 7 Mordecai, John, 189 Morocco, 190 mosquito control, 5, 9, 122 Moss, Malcolm, 85 motor vehicles, ban on in Bermuda, 46, 62–64, 201 Munich settlement, 20, 212n21 Murphy, Gretchen, 19 Murphy, Robert, 186 Myerhoff, Barbara G., 7 Nassau (Bahamas), 98 Nation, 115, 187, 188, 190, 193 National Archives and Records Administration (NAR A), 29 National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), 101, 109, 200

291

nationalism British Caribbean/West Indian, 96, 116, 178, 180–81, 187, 190, 191, 194, 196 Philippines, 22 postcolonial critiques of, 4 Trinidad, 94, 99, 179, 183 Nazi Germany, see Germany Neary, Peter: Newfoundland in the North Atlantic World, 68 Neptune, Harvey: Caliban and the Yankees, 4, 94, 103, 106, 108, 160, 201 New Brunswick, 28 New Dawn (Trinidad), 99, 100, 108, 109, 112 New Deal, 110 Newfoundland, 1, 3, 4, 9, 11, 12, 16, 22, 25, 30, 36, 41, 94, 121, 199, 201, 202, 203 Agricultural and Rural Reconstruction Committee, 146 Base Command, 142, 149, 165, 169, 170 Base Commission, 75 base construction boom, 69–74 base location, 31, 32–33 Beothuk, 160 Board of Trade, 83 Canadian presence in, 37, 38 civil service capacity, 227n6 class prejudice, 72, 92 command politics, 38 Commission of Government, 67, 69, 72, 77, 80, 82, 84–85, 87, 89–91, 140–42, 147, 153, 160, 203 constitutional standing, 159 construction work, end of, 91 cost of living, 82 criminal jurisdiction, 157–60, 164–65, 168–71, 172–73 Defense Regulations, 88 Department of Justice, 169, 170 Department of Natural Resources, 90, 142 Department of Public Health and Welfare, 12 Department of Public Works, 79, 80, 84

292

INDEX

Newfoundland—continued duty-free goods, 72 economic impact of bases, 85–91 factory workers, 226n1 Federation of Workers Union, 82 Fishery and Agriculture Produce (Grading and Marking) Act, 13 fishing industry, 68, 69, 74, 77, 88, 89–91, 137, 160 forestry industry, 77, 88 government insolvency, 67 infusion of currency into, 73 Jewish community, 147, 252n52 labor demand, 72, 86–87, 91 labor market, 68 labor shortage, 87–88 labor turnover, 68–69, 85–86 land classification, 144 laziness stereotype, 68 Local Administration Act (1937), 147 logging industry, 68, 69, 86–87, 227n6 Mi’kmaq, 160 milk standards, 13 mining industry, 68, 77, 86, 88 modernity, 10 national registration, 87 “natives”/”Newfies” label, 9, 72 occupational pluralism, 68–69, 88 paper industry, 86–87, 91 poverty, 67, 226n4 price controls, 80 property values, 57, 141–44 Public Works Act (1935), 140 race, 4–5, 38–39, 92, 148, 151, 173, 214n48 racial solidarity, 173–74 reaction to destroyers-for-bases deal, 29 reaction to U.S. wealth, 74 regulation of growth and development, 146 relocation, 78, 88–89, 142 removal of inhabitants, 68, 179 salt fish trade, 67 segregation of locals and U.S. workers, 72, 200 social and economic change, 74 standard of living, 74

Stephenville base, see Stephenville strategic value of, 67 strikes, 84, 87–88 Supreme Court, 141, 154, 173 Syrian (Lebanese) community, 147 Trade Dispute Boards, 88 trade unionism, 78, 82–83, 86, 226n1 “truck system”, 88, 91 unemployment, 67, 88 union with Canada, 160, 172, 226n4 United States and, 1, 68, 75–76, 78, 80, 140–46 wages, 67–68, 73–74, 75–85, 86, 87, 88, 91, 96, 108, 113, 123 wartime inflation, 82 wartime prosperity, 67 white elite, 80, 96 white juries, 171 women, employment of, 73, 74, 80, 87 workers employed in base construction, 69 working on U.S. bases in, 67–92 Newfoundland Patriotic Association, 170 Newfoundland Rangers, 67, 73, 74, 87, 88, 154 New Providence (Bahamas), 98 News Chronicle, 27 New York Times, 19, 23, 26, 45, 50, 65, 199 New Zealand, criminal jurisdiction, 159 Nora, Pierre, 177 North Atlantic Air Bridge, 140, 152 Norway, 212n19 Nova Scotia, 28 occupational pluralism, Newfoundland, 68–69, 88 O’Connor, Quintin, 111 O’Driscoll, S.F., 143 oil, 31, 37, 97, 177 Ommer, Rosemary, 232n86 O’Reilly, Sir Lennox, 114 Pacific Ocean, 18, 19, 21 Palmer, Colin, 181

293

INDEX

Panama, 121 anti-base movements, 262n5 Puerto Rican troops in, 39 Panama Canal Zone, 5, 19, 20, 21, 23, 27, 100, 101, 116, 117, 120–23, 160 “gold” vs. “silver” labor, 100, 120–21 Parham Sound (Antigua), 36 Paria, Gulf of (Trinidad), 34, 178 Patterson, Robert P., 38 Payne, Ambrose, 147 Pearl Harbor, 10, 159 Penson, John H., 142, 208n28 People’s National Movement (PNM) (Trinidad), 175–78, 180–82, 187, 190, 193, 195–98 People’s National Party (Jamaica), 101 Petioni, Charles A., 22 Philippines, 19, 21, 22, 190 U.S. occupation of, 5, 205n10 Pierre, Lennox, 191 Pitcher, George Stanley, 57 Pitcher, Herbert Cleve, 57 Pitcher, Jeremiah, 55 PJBD, see United States-Canada Permanent Joint Board of Defense Placentia Bay (Newfoundland), 32, 88, 141 plantation agriculture, British Caribbean, 96–100 Pleasantville (Newfoundland), 33, 144, 145 Poland, 212n19 port fees, 5, 6 Portland Bight (Jamaica), 8, 36 Port of Spain (Trinidad), 34, 94, 95, 175, 181, 191 postcolonialism, 16, 175 poverty myth, 226n4 Prenoveau, Emil, 172–73 Pretheroe, Attorney General (British Guiana), 161 Primus, Joel, 194 property value Bermuda, 55–60 Newfoundland, 57, 141–44 Public Records Office (PRO) (London), 29, 202 Puddester, Sir John, 147, 151, 153, 155 Puerto Rico, 19, 20, 22, 205n10

anti-base movements, 261n5 troops from, 36, 39–41, 104 workers from, 120 Quidi Vidi Lake (Newfoundland), 33 Rabito-Wyppensenwah, Phillip, 53, 222n38 race, 3, 5, 6, 36, 92 Bermuda, 5, 38, 45–46, 53, 56, 59, 61, 118–20, 122–23, 124, 129, 132–34, 160, 200–201, 214n48 British Caribbean, 93, 96, 98, 100–107, 115–16, 165–67, 200 British Guiana, 102, 161–62, 167 class and, 95–96, 99–100, 114, 115–16, 124, 134, 179, 200 criminal jurisdiction and, 158–63 discipline and, 103–104, 158, 165 industrial unrest and, 99–100 Jamaica, 101 labor and, 93–116 Newfoundland, 4–5, 38–39, 92, 148, 151, 173, 214n48 radical politics and, 111 St. Lucia, 103, 167 Trinidad, 5, 39, 103, 160, 165–66, 179–80 troop deployment and, 38–41 U.S. foreign policy and, 107 venereal disease, 122–23 race mixing, 105 racial accommodation, 101, 103, 104, 106, 116, 200 racial discrimination, 148, 159, 181, 200, 254n4 Bermuda, 118, 122–23, 125, 129 British Caribbean, 98, 100–101, 102 racialized identity, 10 racial politics in British Empire, 212n48 of criminal jurisdiction, 157–74 racial segregation, 38–41, 46, 93, 151, 159–60, 177 Bermuda, 118, 121–22, 129, 133–35 racial solidarity, 173–74 racial stereotypes, 61, 109 racial violence, 11, 93, 99, 133, 165–67 racism, Jim Crow, see Jim Crow racism “Rainbow” plans, 20–21, 30

294

INDEX

Raney, Bates, 121–22 Ray, Samuel Albert, 132 Reed, Charles S., II, 152 relocation Bermuda, 57–60, 179 compensation for, 59–62, 78, 140–42 Newfoundland, 68, 78, 88–89, 179 Trinidad, 179, 197–98 Renda, Mary: Taking Haiti, 5 Renouf, H.T., 83–84 Reynolds, David, 3 Rich Relations, 11 Richards, Sir Arthur, 110, 208n28 Richards, James, 133 Richardson, J.H., 115 Rienzi, Adrian, 100, 111, 114 Ring, Gustov, 114 Robert, Georges, 35 Roberts, W. Adolphe, 115 Roberts-Wray, Kenneth O., 161–64, 172 Roosevelt, Eleanor, 40–41, 199 Roosevelt, Franklin D., 76, 79, 110, 131, 212n21, 218n116 criminal jurisdiction, 161, 171 destroyers-for bases deal, 17–26, 30, 38, 41, 178, 199–200 race and, 96, 100, 101, 103, 107, 116 Roosevelt Presidential Library, 24 Rose, Sonya, 3 Royal Bermuda Yacht Club, 119 Royal Gazette and Colonist Daily (Bermuda), 29, 49 rural areas, 5 Russell, Norbert, 147 Russell, Vincent, 145 Ruth, Babe, 45 St. David’s Committee, 59–60, 62 St. David’s Island (Bermuda), 45, 49–50, 51–55, 63, 65 property values, 55–57 removal of inhabitants of, 57–60 resettlement of inhabitants of, 60–62 St. George’s (Bermuda), 44, 51, 54 St. George’s Bay (Newfoundland), 138, 151, 154 St. John’s (Newfoundland), 1, 2, 12–13, 37, 68, 80, 82, 88, 144 base location, 31, 32–33, 67, 70

St. John’s Telegram, 29 St. Kitts-Nevis-Anguilla, 235n30 St. Lawrence (Newfoundland), 88 St. Lucia, 1, 16, 20, 25, 30, 34, 35, 36, 108, 113, 192, 202 Barbadian laborers, 115 base location, 33 criminal jurisdiction, 166 franchise, 98–99 labor unrest, 99 layoffs, 115 police force, 36 population and area of, 97 Puerto Rican troops in, 39 race, 103, 167 staples exports, 97 troop strength, 41 U.S. soldiers’ violence, 103–104 U.S. withdrawal from base, 269n5 St. Thomas, 109 Sampath, Martin, 195 sanitation, 9 Stephenville, 146–56 Saunders, Kay, 3 scarlet fever, 13 Seabee construction battalions, 160, 244n25 Sea Venture, 43 security, 5, 18–20, 25, 37, 182 eastern seaboard, 29, 42 segregation Jim Crow, see under Jim Crow racism of locals and U.S. workers in Newfoundland, 72 racial, 27, 38–41, 46, 99, 100, 101, 103, 105, 118, 121–22, 129, 133–35, 151, 159–60, 177 Shand, Eden, 196–97 Sherna, Samuel, 133 Simon, Mifford, 133 Simonds, Ivor C., 128 Sinanen, Ashford, 187 Singapore, 28 slavery, 44, 96, 97, 101, 177, 178, 183 Smallwood, Joey, 226n4 Smith, Hammond, 222n53 Smith, Howard E.D., 55 Smith, Sarah Ann, 56 Smith, W.B., 56 social change, 12, 74, 145

INDEX

social control, 46–47 social conventions, 46 social discrimination, 115 social dislocation, 2, 48 social disruption, 38 social distance, 11, 72, 145 social inequality, 99 social reform, 100, 119, 134 social unrest/upheaval, 99, 103, 119, 165, 180 Somers Island Company, 43 South America, 35 see also Latin America Spain, 22 Spanish-American War, 19, 20, 22 Spurling, Sir Stanley, 47, 54, 56, 123–24 Stalin, Josef, 214n49 Standing Federation Committee (SFC), 181 Stark, Harold R., 23, 25 Stephenville (Newfoundland), 67, 87, 89 American occupation of, 137–56 anti-Semitism, 147–48 Board of Compensation, 146, 148, 154 boundary lines, 138, 139, 140 building permits, 147, 153–55 criminal jurisdiction, 169 farming, 137 fishery, 137 housing shortage, 148–49 property valuation, 141–44 relocation and compensation, 140–46, 154 sanitary conditions, deterioration of, 146–56 shack construction, 149, 152–56 “undesirables”, 147–48 unemployment, 138 women, role of, 137–38, 148 Stephenville Crossing (Newfoundland), 142–43, 151, 154 sterilization, of European Jews, 118 Stettinius, Edward R., Jr., 171 Stevens, W.G.E., 128 Stoler, Ann Laura, 2 Stirling, Yates, Jr., 23 strikes Bermuda, 125, 127 British Caribbean, 99, 107, 112–13, 119

295

British Guiana, 113, 236n39 Newfoundland, 84, 87–88 Strong, A.G., 122, 131 suffrage, see franchise sugar industry, British Caribbean, 96–98, 99, 109, 113–14, 115, 183 Sun Island Cruises, 196 Surinam, 39 surveys, 5 Talbot, Mrs. Hastings, 130–31 Tallent, Woodrow, 133 Taussig, Charles, 40, 100–101, 103, 107, 108, 109, 119 taxes, 6 Thomas, G.G., 86 Time Magazine, 20, 26 tobacco industry, Bermuda, 43–44 Tobago, 191, 193 see also Trinidad and Tobago Toddings, S.S., 53–54 tourism, 32, 98, 160 Bermuda, 117–21, 132, 133 Chaguaramas, 194–95 politics of in Bermuda, 43–65 tourist aesthetic, Bermuda, 55–57 Trade Review (Newfoundland), 84 trade unionism Bermuda, 118–19, 124–25, 132–33 British Caribbean, 96, 100, 101, 108–12, 116, 236n39, 242n158 Great Britain, 227n7 Newfoundland, 78, 82–83, 86–87 non-recognition of, 112 United States, 227n7 Trinidad, 1, 2, 3, 4, 9, 16, 20, 23, 25, 27, 30, 36, 41, 97, 106, 108, 109, 121 African American troops, 39 Agricultural Society, 113 American invasion of, 177–80 April 22 march and speech, 175–76, 190–91, 194 Barbadian laborers, 114 base location, 33–34 British cultural influence, 201–202 Chaguaramas naval base, 11, 110, 111, 175–98 Chamber of Commerce, 113 cinemas, 201–202

296

INDEX

Trinidad—continued class, 179 communism, 187 criminal jurisdiction, 161–62, 165–66, 171 Democratic Labour Party (DLP), 187–88, 193 East Indian immigration, 96, 180 Federated Workers Trade Union, 111, 112 Film Censorship Board, 202 franchise, 98–99 housing shortage, 202 jury selection, 163 laborers, 94, 114 labor layoffs, 114 labor movement, 99 labor unrest, 99 Labour Party, 111 land redistribution, 114 liberation vs. occupation, 94 location of West Indian capital, 181 nationalism, 94, 99, 179, 183 99th Coastal Artillery unit, 5, 38, 40 North West Peninsula, 34, 176, 182, 191–92, 194, 197–98 oil, 31, 97, 177 People’s National Movement (PNM), 175–78, 180–82, 187, 190, 193, 195–98 People’s Party, 112 population and area of, 97 Puerto Rican troops in, 39–41 race, 5, 39, 103, 160, 165–66, 179–80 racial segregation, 177 relations with U.S., 185 removal of inhabitants, 179, 197–98 shootings, 166 Socialist Party, 111 as “southern keystone”, 34 sugar industry, 96, 113–14, 115 Sugar Manufacturers’ Association, 114 Trades Union Council (TUC), 108 train overcrowding, 94–95 as “triangular encounter”, 4 Trinidad Working Men’s Association, 111 troop strength, 41

unemployment, 114 “University of Woodford Square”, 175 U.S. actions in, 5, 94, 103 U.S. annexation of, 21 wages, 115, 202 white elite, 4, 38, 95, 160, 177, 198 Trinidad and Tobago, 181 independence, 194 Town and Country Planning Act, 195 Trinidad and Tobago Regiment, 195 Trinidad Sugar Estates, 113 troop deployment, (racial) politics of, 36, 38–41 Trott, Howard, 54–55, 208n28 “truck system,” 88, 91 tuberculosis, 13 Tucker, Henry J., 208n28, 221n29 Tucker’s Town (Bermuda), 47, 65, 117 Twain, Mark, 43, 44, 45, 220n7 Innocents Abroad, 62–63, 220n7 Twillingate Sun (Newfoundland), 85 Tyson, W.W., 237n67 unemployment Bermuda, 49, 120, 134 British Caribbean, 96 Jamaica, 103 Newfoundland, 67, 88, 134, 138 Trinidad, 114, 134 United Bermuda Party (UBP), 135 United States base locations, 30–36 Bermuda and, 44–45, 48–50, 54, 57–60, 63, 120–21, 124, 125, 131–32 black workers, importation of, 122 British Caribbean and, 96, 100–107, 115 Canada and, 173 Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), 186 Chaguaramas and, 176, 181, 183–89 Congress, 23, 24, 26 construction workers in British Caribbean, 104 construction workers in Newfoundland, 72 coordination of defensive planning, 30

INDEX

Corps of Engineers, 9 criminal jurisdiction, 6, 157–58, 161, 163–64, 167, 170–71, 172–73 cultural influence, 201 Democratic Party, 107 entry into war, 10, 113 exploitive impact of, 4 foreign policy, race and, 107 “Good Neighbors Policy,” 22 gunboat diplomacy, 22 health issues, 9, 12 hemispheric defense, 17–42 imperialism, 4, 5, 22 importance of destroyers-for-bases deal, 199 imposition of control over leased areas, 9 informal vs. formal empire, 3, 22, 181, 205n10 isolationism, 1 Jim Crow racism, 96, 98, 160 jury selection, 163 labor accommodation, 106 land valuation, 142, 143, 145 Marines, 115 media reaction to destroyers-for-bases deal, 26 neutrality laws, 24 Newfoundland and, 1, 68, 75–76, 78, 80, 140–46 occupation of leased areas, 7–8 Office of the Chief of Military History, 68 overseas expansion strategies, 3 Panama Canal Department, 30, 120 property values, 57 prosperity, base colonies as symbol of, 10 public criticism of, 102 public health, 12–13 public works achievements, 203 purchase of Caribbean possessions, 21 racial accommodation policy, 101, 103, 104, 106, 116, 200 racial segregation of troops, 38–41 racism, political consequences of, 107 readiness for war, 19 rearmament drive, 21 relations with Great Britain, 7–8, 26–27, 173

297

Senate Committee on Foreign Relations, 184 South, 99, 100, 101 State Department, 28, 39, 93, 185–89 strategic value of Newfoundland to, 67 strengthening of strategic position of, 26–27, 29 territorial expansion, 22 threats to security of, 20–21, 30 treatment of Newfoundland by, 4 Trinidad and, 94, 177–94 union non-recognition, 112 venereal disease, 149–51 violence by soldiers, 103 wages, 108, 109, 110, 125, 131–32 War Department, 30, 38, 39, 102, 120 West Indian nationalism, 181 United States Army, 2, 5, 12, 13, 20, 21, 34, 36, 37, 39, 113, 120, 166 Air Corps, 19 Air Force, 20 Bermuda, 48, 58, 63, 64, 121–22, 123, 126–27, 164, 200 Corps of Engineers, 79–80, 124, 138–39 criminal jurisdiction, 165, 167 discipline, 103–104 Newfoundland, 69–70, 75, 76, 80, 84, 89, 138, 142, 153, 171 Panama Canal Department, 30, 120 Puerto Ricans and, 104 racial accommodation, 102 racism, 103–104 St. Lucia, 115 segregation, 36, 105, 160 Stephenville maps, 138, 139 Trinidad, 114, 186 venereal disease, 149–51 violent behavior, 103–104 United States-Canada Permanent Joint Board of Defense (PJBD), 32, 37, 38, 173 United States Navy, 2, 5, 11, 12, 13, 20, 21, 34, 37, 112, 120 African American personnel, 122, 160 Bermuda, 48, 50, 63, 112, 122, 123, 126–28, 130, 131, 132–33, 200

298

INDEX

United States Navy—continued Bureau of Yards and Docks, 36 Chaguaramas, 176, 180, 188 criminal jurisdiction, 165, 167 discipline, 103–104 Newfoundland, 67, 69–70, 76, 80, 89, 141, 171 as one-ocean vs. two-ocean navy, 18, 19 racial accommodation, 102 racism, 103–104 segregation, 36, 105, 160 Trinidad, 186 violent behavior, 103–104 “unity of command”, 36 U.S.S.R., media in, 214n49 USS St. Louis, 31–33, 47, 178 Vanguard, 112 venereal disease, 3, 9, 68 race and, 122–23 Stephenville, 149–51 Venezuela, 31 Vieux Fort (Antigua), 103 Vieux Fort (St. Lucia), 115, 167 Virgin Islands, 20, 24 von Ribbentrop, Joachim, 28 voting, see franchise wages, 11, 200, 202, 227n7 Bermuda, 117, 120, 123–25, 128–34, 200–201 British Caribbean, 96, 107–109, 112–13, 115, 123 Newfoundland, 67–68, 73–74, 75–85, 86, 87, 88, 91, 96, 108, 113, 123 Trinidad, 115, 202 Walwyn, Humphrey, 10, 32, 33, 75, 141, 169, 203 Watlington, Sir Henry, 2, 54 Wells, Frank, Jr., 170–71 Welty, Maurice D., 1, 165 Welty Agreement, 165, 168–71 West Bay (Newfoundland), 142, 145 Western Hemisphere, defense of, see hemispheric defense West Indian Council, 27, 215n67, 263n21 West Indian Federation, 178, 180–81, 182, 187

dissolution of, 193–94 West Indian Regiment, 36, 189, 192 West Indies, see British Caribbean; British West Indies Wharton, E.V., 179 Whelan, W.L., 149 Whitaker, Charles H., 115 White, Aloysius, 148 White, Cecelia, 154 White, Euzeb, 147 White, Ivan, 187, 188–89 White, Walter, 101, 109, 244n26 whiteness, 8, 173 whites as “American,” 39 Barbados, 181 Bermuda, 45, 46, 53, 56, 59, 117, 118, 121, 134 British Caribbean, 98, 159 criminal jurisdiction, 161–63 Jamaica, 103 Newfoundland, 158, 173 vs. nonwhite guards, use of, 11, 41, 96, 104, 123–24 Panama Canal Zone, 100, 120 Puerto Ricans as, 40, 104 Trinidad, 112, 177, 179 U.S. servicemen, 5, 36, 38, 39, 41, 100, 122, 157, 160, 162, 165, 167 Whitham, Charlie, 4 Wilkes, Rueben, 194, 196 Williams, E.R., 127, 131 Williams, Eric, 5, 27, 96, 175–78, 192–94, 196–98, 262n7 Capitalism and Slavery, 177–78 Chaguaramas and, 180–91 “From Slavery to Chaguaramas,” 2, 183, 201 Negro in the Caribbean, 177 public support for, 182 Wilson, Joseph, 166 Wilson, Woodrow, 45, 46 Winant, John G., 6 Windward Islands, 97, 180 women, 4 employment of in Bermuda, 129, 132 employment of in Newfoundland, 73, 74, 80, 87 role of in Stephenville, 137–38, 148 suffrage, 129, 220n11

INDEX

Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom, 215n67 Wood, Edward, see Lord Halifax Woods, Oliver, 189 Woods, Sir Wilfrid, 76–80, 83, 85 Woods Labour Board, 86, 227n6

299

Work Progress Administration (WPA), 120 World War I, 36, 158 Young, Sir Hubert Winthrop, 33–34, 161–62, 178–79, 208n28