Why Colored People in Philadelphia Are Excluded from the Street Cars

In Short

Published in 1866, this polemic dissects the systematic exclusion of Black citizens from Philadelphia’s horse-drawn streetcars. The author documents the failure of local committees, political leaders, and the clergy to challenge the railway companies’ discriminatory regulations. By tracing these local grievances to a lingering, incomplete legacy of slavery and a paralyzing fear of "amalgamation," the text offers a biting critique of Northern hypocrisy. It remains a historical record of how a city—ostensibly free—clung to a culture of persecution long after the formal abolition of slavery.

The Story

The narrative begins with the frustration of a reform committee tasked with ending the exclusion of Black passengers from the city's nineteen street railway companies. The companies, rather than complying with requests to change their rules, shift the responsibility onto the white public by staging "car-votes," a maneuver that effectively preserves segregation. The author notes that even when these policies lead to the violent ejection of Black passengers—including a young woman mistaken for white—the police and public officials, such as the late Mayor Henry, prioritize the "peace" of the white majority over the rights of the targeted individuals.

The text moves from the cars to the broader societal landscape, highlighting the stark contrast between the North’s rhetoric of equality and its practice. The author points to the exclusion of Black soldiers' orphans from state-funded School-Homes as a profound betrayal of the commitments made during the war. Despite public pledges to honor the families of those who "sprung to arms," the administrative machinery of the state ignores these children, reflecting a broader moral failure among the city's leadership.

Throughout the account, the author examines the political landscape, particularly the Union League and the local press. He exposes the "inert opposition" of influential private men who, while often appearing as reformers, prioritize party stability over the cause of justice. When prominent voices attempt to link the struggle for equal rights to the larger national project of democracy, their concerns are dismissed by the elite as a "small matter." The author also critiques the clergy, arguing that many pastors remain silent on the issue to avoid offending the prejudices of their congregations, thereby abdicating their moral authority.

The investigation concludes that Philadelphia is a "moral lunatic," unable to overcome its historic reliance on slavery. The author argues that the city’s unusually large Black population, relative to other Northern cities, has fueled an irrational and persistent fear of racial integration. By comparing this "defect of moral vision" to the psychological blindness of slaveholders in the Caribbean, the author asserts that the exclusion from the cars is not an isolated incident but a symptom of a deeper, unhealed wound. He insists that true progress requires moving beyond party politics and timid compromises, urging a return to the foundational principles of justice, which he characterizes as the only way to resolve the conflict and fully integrate the nation’s future.

How It Unfolds

The failure of the Committee The author recounts how a group of thirty gentlemen formed to advocate for desegregation initially failed due to timidity and a preference for polite requests over decisive action. By deferring to railway presidents and passive "car-votes," they allowed the exclusionary policy to persist unchecked.

The complicity of the law When a Black passenger is forcibly removed, the Mayor openly defends the ejection as a means to prevent "breaches of the peace." This section demonstrates how local law enforcement and political leaders actively enabled segregation under the guise of maintaining order.

The betrayal of the orphans The text details the shocking discovery that the orphans of 1,488 Black Pennsylvania soldiers were barred from state-supported homes. This serves as a damning indictment of the state’s failure to fulfill its promises to those who fought for the Union.

The mask of the reformer The author targets the Union League and local politicians, revealing how they publicly celebrated "radical" causes while privately obstructing meaningful change. He argues that this "indifference, tinged with contempt" is the greatest obstacle to reform.

The diagnosis of the city The final movement connects the local transit issue to a long-standing "defect of moral vision" stemming from the state's historical reliance on slavery. The author concludes that the refusal to allow Black citizens on cars is a manifestation of a deeper, pathological fear of racial equality.

The People

Benjamin P. Hunt writes as a critical observer, acting as the voice of moral clarity amidst a society he views as morally paralyzed. He is the central analytical figure who scrutinizes the motives of those around him.

The "Committee of gentlemen" represents the well-intentioned but ultimately ineffective liberal class. They are characterized by their hesitancy and their willingness to prioritize Republican party success over the civil rights of Black residents.

Mayor Henry serves as the embodiment of official obstructionism. By openly admitting his "approbation" of the exclusion of Black passengers to protect the sensibilities of the white public, he provides a clear target for the author’s critique of state-sanctioned discrimination.

The "white passengers and conductors" represent the active, physical force of segregation. Whether through violent ejection or passive silence, they are the ones who enforce the social boundary of the streetcar steps.

The "Black citizens of Philadelphia" are portrayed as resilient and patient, often subjected to unprovoked violence. They are the victims of a system that refuses to acknowledge their citizenship, even after their service in the Union cause.

The "clergy" are depicted as caught between their professional survival and the moral duties they claim to uphold. Their silence is portrayed not as a lack of awareness, but as a calculated concession to the "darling sins" of their congregants.

In Its Own Voice

"This Committee is evidently somewhat slow."

The author expresses frustration with the lack of progress made by the group appointed to negotiate the desegregation of the transit lines.

"Many belong to this class who would take offence if told so."

The author characterizes the "respectable" white middle class as harboring a latent, unacknowledged prejudice that prevents them from supporting the movement for equal rights.

"The chain of the slave was broken but not taken off; and any degree of civil disability under which an emancipated slave is left, is just so much slavery left."

This statement provides the central philosophical argument for why local discriminatory laws must be abolished.

What It's Really About

The central argument is that the "car question" is a proxy for the unfinished work of American democracy. The author contends that the exclusion of Black people from public transportation is not merely a local transit dispute but a manifestation of a "moral lunacy" that persists because emancipation was left incomplete. He argues that civil disabilities are functionally equivalent to slavery, keeping the "spirit of oppression" alive in the white population. The book asks whether a society can truly claim to be free if its citizens remain divided by artificial barriers of race, and it posits that the failure to address this "small matter" of the cars invites larger, more dangerous social conflicts.

Why Read It Today

This book is essential for readers interested in the mechanics of systemic racism and the history of civil rights. It feels remarkably modern in its critique of "liberal" institutions—the committee, the press, the league—that prefer the appearance of reform over the hard, often unpopular, work of achieving true equality. The prose is sharp, intellectual, and deeply cynical about the power of politics to fix what it did not have the conviction to change in the first place.

Readers should be prepared for the author's 19th-century perspective, which includes period-specific attitudes and an unflinching, sometimes clinical, discussion of slavery’s effects on both the oppressed and the oppressor. It is not always an easy read; the author’s long, complex sentences and his biting, aristocratic tone reflect a specific Victorian intellectual tradition. However, the intensity of his commitment to justice is palpable. What stays with you is his warning that silence in the face of injustice is not neutrality—it is complicity. For anyone looking to understand the roots of urban segregation or the persistence of American racial inequality, this record provides a clear, uncompromising look at a society grappling (and largely failing) to live up to its own democratic ideals.