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Irene Morgan

Kathryn S Gardiner | Published on 1/12/2025

Forgotten Foremothers

Profiles of lesser-known heroines in the fight for women’s right


“I guess it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging darts of segregation to say ‘wait,’” wrote Martin Luther King, Jr., imprisoned in Birmingham, Alabama in August of 1963. This letter was his response to a “call for unity” from eight white Birmingham clergymen.

 

“We expressed understanding that honest convictions in racial matters could be properly pursued in the courts,” the clergymen wrote in April, “but urged that decisions of those courts should in the meantime be peacefully obeyed.”

 

“We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed,” Martin replied in writing. “For years now I have heard the word ‘wait.’ ... This ‘wait’ has almost always meant ‘never.’ ... But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate-filled policemen curse, kick, brutalize, and even kill your black brothers and sisters with impunity; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six-year-old daughter why she cannot go the public amusement park that has been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her little eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see the depressing clouds of inferiority begin to form in her little mental sky … when you take a cross-country drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading ‘white’ and ‘colored’ ... when you are forever fighting a degenerating sense of ‘nobodyness’—then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait.”

 

In his list of the injustices experienced by Black Americans, it’s notable that Martin included the psychological and emotional hurts alongside the physical abuse of police and mobs—two distinct forms of violence inflicted by the policies of segregation. Missing from the clergyman’s “call for unity” is any apparent recognition that activists had pursued justice in the courts, many times. Indeed, segregation itself had been challenged repeatedly for decades. And nearly every one of those challenges began with someone first refusing to obey the law. 

 

As Martin wrote, “There comes a time when the cup of endurance runs over...”

____

 

Irene Amos was born in Baltimore, Maryland on April 9, 1917. Her parents, Robert and Ethel Amos, were the free children of parents who had been enslaved. One of eight children, Irene attended a local elementary school until the financial pressures of the Great Depression—Irene was just 12 when the Wall Street stock market crashed in 1929—forced her to drop out and find work.

 

“Her Seventh-day Adventist family eschewed all signs of aggrandizement, such as jewelry and makeup, and stressed the need to act righteously and trust in God,” wrote Carol Morello for The Washington Post in 2000. She “drifted in and out of high school, depending on whether she had a job cleaning houses, washing clothes or caring for the children of white people.”

 

Young Irene got a steady job at the Glenn L. Martin Company, an aerospace manufacturer founded in Baltimore by aviator Glenn Luther Martin. Planes built by his companies had flown in World War I and the Mexican Revolution. Irene took up a position on the production line making B-26 Marauders, a twin-engine bomber plane that would see significant use during World War II. While working, Irene met Sherwood Morgan, a dockworker. The two married and had two children, a son, Sherwood Junior, and a daughter, Brenda. 

 

Irene lived this quiet, hardworking life within the cage of segregation. Baltimore’s population swelled during the First Great Migration, a period of mass movement of African Americans from the South where Jim Crow laws of segregation had taken effect. This demographic shift was not welcomed in Baltimore. Mayor Barry Mahool announced a segregation ordinance in 1910, saying, “Blacks should be quarantined in isolated slums in order to reduce the incidence of civil disturbance, to prevent the spread of communicable diseases, and to protect property values among the White majority.”


The U.S. Supreme Court ruled this particular ordinance was unconstitutional, but “not because the ordinance discriminated against Black people,” according to The Baltimore Story: Learning and Living Racial Justice, a Loyola University Maryland historical project. The Supreme Court struck down the ordinance “because it limited the freedom of white owners to sell to whom they wished.”

 

The segregation of the city’s housing and the racial prejudices of its officials had changed little by the time Irene was born and growing up. “Baltimore’s legal leaders...found other ways to maintain the city’s de factocolor line,” wrote Garret Power in “Eugenics, Jim Crow & Baltimore’s Best” for The Maryland Bar Journal. “In 1923, Philip B. Perlman, the Baltimore City Solicitor, conspired with representatives from the Real Estate Board, the City Building Office, the City Health Department, and white neighborhood associations to employ restrictive covenants, redlining, jawboning, and peer pressure to discourage sales or rentals to Negros in white neighborhoods. De facto residential segregation continued unabated.”

 

Baltimore’s decision makers justified these choices with the “science” of eugenics, a movement enjoying significant popularity at the time. The social and housing discrimination and segregation was, professed the city’s leaders, for the advancement of society. It was science, not bigotry. As Antero Pietila said in Not in My Neighborhood: How Bigotry Shaped a Great American City, “Eugenicists prepared elaborate rankings of the different races and nationalities. Together with anthropologists, they studied skin color, hair texture, skull shape, brain size, and the characteristics of buttocks in their efforts to determine the developmental level of various races and ethnic groups. ... Baltimore eagerly embraced eugenics.” 

 

Irene’s younger sister told The Washington Post’s Carol, "We were born into a segregated world. ... From birth, we knew there were certain things that could not be. We were persona non grata in certain stores downtown. But we stayed away from confrontation. Our family instilled in us to do the best we could, because one day this, too, would be gone."

 

As her sister intimates, Irene wasn’t in the halls of power. She worked, she took care of her home and children, she had friends. We might never have learned her name, but for the events of July 16, 1944.


Newspapers around the country, including Baltimore, Maryland’s The Afro-American on June 15, 1946, shared news of Irene Morgan’s Supreme Court victory. 



That summer, 27-year-old Irene suffered a miscarriage. To cope with the physical and emotional fallout, she traveled to Gloucester, Virginia, to stay for a time with her mother Ethel. On July 16, “she bought a $5 ticket from the ‘colored’ window at a nearby Haye’s Grocery Store and boarded a Greyhound bus to return home to Baltimore,” said Euell A. Dixon for BlackPast.org. She had been feeling unwell and made an appointment with her Baltimore doctor. 

 

Irene took a seat on the bus. Another Black woman with a baby soon sat beside her. “In those days,” reported the Journal of Blacks in Higher Education, “the white section of the bus went as far back as there were white passengers.” There were no designated “colored” sections, but an African American rider could not sit across from or next to a white rider. Irene had chosen a seat within the last four rows at the back. 

 

For 25 miles of travel north, Irene and her seatmate rode without trouble. Then, the bus passed into Middlesex County and a white couple got on. With the laws of Virginia behind him, the bus driver told Irene and her seatmate to give up their seats. When the mother moved to comply, Irene stopped her. Irene told reporter Carol in 2000 that she asked that woman in 1944, "Where do you think you're going with that baby in your arms?" 

 

Irene’s “cup of endurance” had run over.

 

The irate bus driver got back behind the wheel and drove to the Saluda, Va. jail. There, the local sheriff came on board. He said he had a warrant for her arrest and brandished the paper at her. Irene snatched it from him, tore it up, and threw it out the bus window.

 

When Carol suggested this was brave, Irene replied, “I can't see how anybody in the same circumstances could do otherwise. I didn't do anything wrong. I'd paid for my seat. I was sitting where I was supposed to.”

 

The sheriff grabbed her arm and Irene responded by kicking him in the groin. "He touched me. That's when I kicked him in a very bad place,” she told Carol. “He hobbled off, and another one came on. He was trying to put his hands on me to get me off. I was going to bite him, but he was dirty, so I clawed him instead. I ripped his shirt. We were both pulling at each other. He said he'd use his nightstick. I said, ‘We'll whip each other.’” 

 

These men eventually dragged Irene off the bus and threw her into a Saluda jail cell. When news reached her, Irene’s mother hurried there to pay the bail of $500 (the equivalent of nearly $9,000 in 2024).

 

Irene’s trial at the Middlesex Circuit Court on Oct. 18, 1944, would just be the first. Irene pleaded guilty and accepted the $100 fine for resisting arrest. When it came to the $10 fine and the charge of breaking the segregation laws of Virginia, however, she refused. 

 

Her case then went to the Virginia Supreme Court. Joining Spottswood Robinson as Irene’s defense counsel were William H. Hastie and future Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall. Now assisted by the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, Spottswood made an argument not against the social injustice of segregation, but that the segregation laws themselves violated the freedom of interstate commerce. The Virginia Supreme Court rejected this interpretation; they ruled that Irene had indeed violated segregation laws and she was ordered to pay the $10 fine.

 

Irene appealed once again, this time to the United States Supreme Court. On March 27, 1946, the Justices heard the arguments. The following June 3, they shared their decision, as penned by Justice Stanley Forman Reed. In it, he lays out the legal difficulties presented by a country with inconsistent segregation laws across the states.

 

“On appellant's journey, this statute required that she sit in designated seats in Virginia. Changes in seat designation might be made 'at any time' during the journey when 'necessary or proper for the comfort and convenience of passengers.' This occurred in this instance. Upon such change of designation, the statute authorizes the operator of the vehicle to require, as he did here, 'any passenger to change his or her seat as it may be necessary or proper.' An interstate passenger must if necessary repeatedly shift seats while moving in Virginia to meet the seating requirements of the changing passenger group. On arrival at the District of Columbia line, the appellant would have had freedom to occupy any available seat and so to the end of her journey.”

 

At issue was not only the shifting of seats, but also the varying definitions of “colored” for those designated areas. “In states where separation of races is required in motor vehicles, a method of identification as white or colored must be employed,” the justices’ decision stated. “Any ascertainable Negro blood identifies a person as colored for purposes of separation in some states. In the other states which require the separation of the races in motor carriers, apparently no definition generally applicable or made for the purposes of the statute is given.”

 

In his concurrence, Justice Felix Frankfurter put it this way: “The imposition upon national systems of transportation of a crazy-quilt of State laws would operate to burden commerce unreasonably, whether such contradictory and confusing State laws concern racial commingling or racial segregation.” In the case of Morgan v. Commonwealth of Virginia, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in favor of Irene Morgan.

 

While it might have been more satisfying to strike down Jim Crow laws on the grounds of the Fourteenth Amendment’s prohibition of “any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States,” the lawyers knew what they were doing.

 

Activists of the time recognized the wisdom of the strategy, too. In a June 15, 1946, opinion titled “Property Rights Save Human Rights,” Oklahoma City’s Black Dispatch printed, “Human rights are not worth very much down below the Mason Dixon line. The existence of the Klan and other terroristic organizations down in Dixie attest to this fact, and we suspect the court would have had more difficulty outlawing the decision, based upon the protection of human rights, than it has in bulwarking its position behind the protection of property. Whether we recognize it or not, the naked truth is that this government today and always has place more guarantees behind property than it has behind liberty, emolument, and privilege of the individual.”

 

Irene was not present for either of the Supreme Court trials. She learned of the U.S. Justices’ verdict by phone. Her little sister recalled in 2000, “We all laughed and said, ‘She won.’ We were so proud of her. It was a big step, not only for Irene but for all black people. And not just for my race, but for the people of America.”

 

“If something happens to you which is wrong, the best thing to do is have it corrected in the best way you can,” Irene told the Richmond Dispatch in 2002. “The best thing for me to do was go to the Supreme Court.”

 

The Freedom Rides of 1961, during which organized student activists rode public transportation to challenge segregation law, are well known. The first Freedom Ride, however, happened in 1947 in response to Irene’s victory. The organizers, Bayard Rustin and George Houser, called it the Journey of Reconciliation. The participants had a chant: 

 

“On June the third the high court said,

When you ride interstate Jim Crow is dead.

Get on the bus, sit anyplace,

'Cause Irene Morgan won her case.”

 

“Both were interracial demonstrations initiated by the Congress of Racial Equality,” reported historians August Meier and Elliott Rudwick in “The First Freedom Ride.” “The Journey of Reconciliation involved only a handful of people, while the Freedom Ride of 1961 engaged hundreds. The Journey of Reconciliation was conducted only in four states of the Upper South, while the Freedom Ride was carried into the heart of the Deep South. But in both cases the purpose and tactics were the same—to test compliance with the Supreme Court decisions on segregation in interstate transportation by using interracial teams to travel on Greyhound and Trailways buses and deliberately violate state segregation laws. ... Not only were there striking similarities between the two events but, as a matter of historical fact, the Journey of Reconciliation was the prototype, the conscious model, for the later Freedom Ride.”

 

Much as we learned with the case of Recy Taylor, the techniques and paths of communication forged during more modest efforts can become the keys to widespread progress later. 

 

It seems most people’s reaction to learning of Irene Morgan is to wonder why they’ve never heard of her before. “Throughout the Jim Crow era, many African Americans rebelled against segregated seating in public transportation, but their number vastly increased after World War II,” according to sociologist Barry Schwartz in “Collective Forgetting and the Symbolic Power of Oneness: The Strange Apotheosis of Rosa Parks.” “By the mid-1950s, defiance of bus segregation had become common. A host of unrecognized men and women (‘invisible leaders,’ as Bernice Barnett calls them) preceded Rosa Parks.”

 

Rosa Parks was an experienced and trained activist whose 1955 arrest was an organized action planned by the NAACP to challenge segregation in the courts. Rosa’s efforts are rightfully remembered. Irene, and hundreds like her, were normal people living their lives. Their arrests, however violent, were just the mundane business of segregation that others said they must “wait” to see end. They were simply people who reached a point they could no longer endure. 

 

After the notoriety brought by the Supreme Court decision faded, Irene returned a life that was private yet also impressive. According to Euell A. Dixon for BlackPast.org, Irene’s family relocated to New York City in 1945. After the death of her first husband in 1948, 32-year-old Irene remarried. She and new husband Stanley Kirkaldy ran “house cleaning and child-care businesses in Queens.” 

 

"It never bothered me, not being in front," she told Carol of The Washington Post. "If there's a job to be done, you do it and get it over with and go on to the next thing."

 

In addition to children Sherwood Jr. and Brenda, Irene had five grandchildren and two great-grandchildren. In 1985, at age 68, she earned a bachelor’s degree in communications from St. John’s University, then a master’s degree in urban studies at age 73 from Queens College in 1990. Carol noted, “When Howard University wanted to award her an honorary doctorate, she declined, saying, ‘Oh, no, I didn't earn it.’”

 

In 2000, Gloucester, Va., celebrated its 350th birthday. To commemorate the occasion, they installed a historical marker at the site of the Hayes Store where Irene boarded the Greyhound bus to go home. The event’s organizer Jann Alexander told The Washington Post, “It’s the most amazing story. She’s a role model for our children and a link to our past. When I think about honoring someone who made such a sacrifice, I get all choked up.” The city also established four scholarships in her name. In 2001, she was awarded the Presidential Citizens Medal by President Bill Clinton.

 

On August 10, 2007, Irene was at Brenda’s Gloucester home when she died at age 90. Her funeral was held at the local high school. In 2000, Brenda told Carol that her mother “always taught us that if you know you're right, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. It's a moral thing. It's something you have to do. She doesn't see herself as a hero. She saw something that had to be done, and she rushed in, like all heroes.”

 

 

Sources: 

The Washington Post: The Freedom Rider a Nation Nearly Forgot by Carol Morello

Richmond Dispatch: Irene Morgan

Letter from a Birmingham Jail by Martin Luther King, Jr. 

Justia: Morgan v. Virginia, 328 U.S. 373 (1946)

Collective Forgetting and the Symbolic Power of Oneness: The Strange Apotheosis of Rosa Parks by Barry Schwartz

The Journal of Blacks in Higher Education: The Uncelebrated Grandmother of the Modern Civil Rights Movement

The First Freedom Ride by August Meier and Elliott Rudwick

Wikipedia: Irene MorganMorgan V. VirginiaJourney of Reconciliation

Newspapers.com: The Black Dispatch, June 15, 1946The Afro-American, June 15, 1946

BlackPast.org: Irene Morgan Kirkaldy (1917-2007) by Euell A. Dixon

The Baltimore Story: Living and Learning Racial Justice

The Maryland Bar Journal: Eugenics, Jim Crow & Baltimore’s Best by Garrett Power

Not in My Neighborhood: How Bigotry Shaped a Great American City by Antero Pietila

Legal Information Institute: Morgan v. Commonwealth of Virginia