Wharlest Jackson
Age 36
A Black Korean War veteran, recently promoted at work
Natchez, Mississippi
February 27, 1967
"All around sportsman, fishing and hunting, we did all that together. He was just a God to me. "
Wharlest Jackson Jr.
Son of Jackson
START
WJJ: My father was a great father. All around sportsman, fishing and hunting, we did all that together. He was just a God to me. You know, he held three jobs. He worked as a barber. He also worked as a mortician and he also worked at a tire and rubber company, trying to supply the needs of a wife with five kids and a home, you know.
And he had a reputation of showing love toward the community here in which he lived…and believe me, this community loved my father. They have told me that many times.
He was a Deacon for Defense. He looked out for the Black community in, in this, in this town.
The cops came in our neighborhood like they were bigger than the law. They could do anything they wanted to do, uh, you know, to anybody in the community and a lot of people were beaten and, a lot of violence was going on at that particular time. And when he went, he went to keep the peace with the people, you know, to try to make, calm the situation down or make it better instead of making it worse.
That particular day I was in front of the house. I think my bike had broke on me and I was out there working on my bicycle
I heard this big, huge explosion. I had never heard anything like that before. My immediate thought was to go see what is happening so, it sounded so close to the house.
So I was there within minutes after, one minute maybe after the bomb,
I saw a gentleman laying in the street, not knowing who he was, and seeing the truck, knowing whose truck that was, and not being able to connect the dots together. And, I later saw a shoe that he was wearing, and I grabbed that shoe and came to the house.
To be, to, to be an eight-year boy, eight-year-old boy, to see that scene, it was traumatizing to me. So, it took some years for me as I grew and matured to really put it all together. It’s been real hard.
And I was very much disappointed that no closure has ever come to my father’s case, even after 50 years. My father should have been living today. He was, his life was taken at the age of 37. And I can imagine what life would be like today if my father had been here.
END
Photo courtesy of 371 Productions
Wharlest Jackson was a 36-year-old Korean War veteran and father of five. A treasurer of the local Mississippi NAACP branch, Jackson worked at the Armstrong Rubber and Tire Company in Natchez, Mississippi. The company had recently promoted Jackson over two white applicants to a new position — one that had never been held by a Black employee before. Jackson had more seniority than the other candidates, but his wife, Exerlena, worried about retaliation from the white community. Still, the position came with a $0.20-an-hour raise, a better schedule, and Jackson was not easily intimidated. So, on February 27, 1967, he arrived for his first shift in the new job.
At the end of a long day, Jackson got in his truck and drove home. When he was nearly there, the truck exploded, leaving Jackson fatally wounded.
His family heard the blast. Jackson’s youngest son, 8-year-old Wharlest Jackson Jr., rode his bike toward the sound and discovered his father’s body lying mangled in the street.
Initial Investigation
Jackson’s murder received national attention, with thousands of members of the Black community marching from the Armstrong plant to the site of the explosion. The FBI launched an investigation, dispatching examiners to inspect Jackson’s vehicle. They discovered that an explosive device had been placed under the driver’s seat.
The FBI interviewed several hundred witnesses, including Armstrong employees, residents in the neighborhood where the explosion occurred, members of the Ku Klux Klan and Jackson’s family members, according to a Department of Justice memo about the case. Armstrong offered a $10,000 reward, and the Natchez Board of Alderman offered another $25,000 to anyone who had information in connection with the case. No one came forward.
The FBI also obtained information from an unnamed individual who said a secret Klan organization called the Silver Dollar Group had formed in 1965 to carry out acts of violence against Black people and others who opposed white supremacy. This person reported that two members of the Klan who were also Armstrong employees, Raleigh “Red” Glover and Elden Hester, had been involved in obtaining explosives shortly before the bombing, and that Glover moved a stash of explosives not long after the FBI began investigating. But according to the DOJ memo, the person insisted on immunity for his own crimes before he offered more evidence. That request was denied, and the FBI said it was unable to gather sufficient evidence to move forward with the case.
The investigation was closed in 1968.
Till Act Status
In 2007, the FBI reopened Jackson’s case. Investigators reinterviewed many former community leaders and co-workers of Jackson. The FBI also reviewed the files of the Mississippi State Sovereignty Commission and other available historical data, as well as the bureau’s original case file. During the investigation, agents learned that both Hester and Glover were deceased.
The FBI closed the case in 2015, stating, “It cannot be conclusively determined who committed the crime,” and the most likely suspects had died.
Case Status closed
Closed 05/04/2005
Themes
- Closed Cases
- Men
About the Project
This multiplatform investigation draws upon more than two years of reporting, thousands of documents and dozens of first-hand interviews. FRONTLINE spoke to family and friends of the victims, and witnesses, some of whom had never been interviewed; current and former Justice Department officials and FBI agents, state and local law enforcement; lawmakers, civil-rights leaders and investigative journalists, to explore the Department of Justice’s reopening of civil rights-era cold cases under the 2008 Emmett Till Unsolved Civil Rights Crime Act.
In addition to an examination of the federal effort, the project features the first comprehensive, interactive list of all those whose cases were reopened by the Department of Justice. Today, the list stands at 151 names. Among the victims: voting rights advocates, veterans, Louisville’s first female prosecutor, business owners, mothers, fathers, and children.
The project consists of a web-based interactive experience, serialized podcast, a touring augmented-reality exhibit, documentary and companion education curriculum for high schools and universities.
A project like Un(re)solved would not be possible without the historic and contemporary contributions of universities, civil rights groups, and the press, particularly the Black press, who have ensured the ongoing public record of racist violence in the United States. To pay homage to these groups, the web interactive begins with a quote from journalist, activist and researcher Ida B. Wells, one of the first to document with precision the horrors of racial terror in America. “The way to right wrongs,” she wrote, “is to turn the light of truth upon them.”
At the outset of the project, FRONTLINE forged a relationship with Northeastern University’s Civil Rights and Restorative Justice Project (CRRJ), bringing them on as an academic partner. Launched in 2007 by Distinguished Law Professor Margaret Burnham, CRRJ is a mission-driven program of interdisciplinary teaching, research and policy analysis on race, history, and criminal justice. Their work has expanded beyond the names on the Justice Department’s list, archiving documents in over 1,000 cases of racially motivated homicides.
With support from the CRRJ, FRONTLINE reporters gathered what could be known about the individuals on the list, conducting interviews with family, friends and witnesses, delving into newspaper archives and gathering documentation including headstone applications, draft cards and archival photographs.
At the heart of the project has been a drive to center the voices of the families of those on the list. FRONTLINE partnered with StoryCorps to record nearly two dozen oral histories with victims’ next of kin, which are featured both in the web-based interactive and traveling AR exhibit. These oral histories will also be archived in the National Library of Congress.
To lead the creative vision for the web experience and installation, FRONTLINE partnered with Ado Ato Pictures, a premier mixed reality studio founded by artist, filmmaker, and technologist Tamara Shogaolu.
Shogaolu rooted the visuals in the powerful symbolism of trees. In the United States, trees evoke the ideal of liberty, but also speak to an oppressive history of racially motivated violence. In Persian myth, trees are humanity’s ancestors, while in Toraja, Indonesia, they serve as sacred burial sites.
“I was really inspired by looking at the role of the tree as a symbol in American history” Shogaolu said. “It’s been looked at as a symbol of freedom, we look at it as a connector between generations, and also there’s the association of trees with racial terror.” When designing the creative vision for Un(re)solved Shogaolu wondered whether she might be able to reclaim the symbol of the tree. “As a person of color, we’re often terrified of being in isolated places in the woods. And I thought it was kind of crazy that there are natural environments that instinctually give great fear because of this connection with racial terror and I wanted to reclaim that — to turn these into beautiful spaces.”
Un(re)solved weaves imagery of trees, which also recall family ties, into patterns and textures from the American tradition of quilting. Among enslaved African Americans forbidden to read or write, quilts provided an important space to document family stories. Today, quilting remains a creative outlet rich with story and tradition for many American communities.
We invite you to enter this forest of quilted memories — a testimony to the lives of these individuals, and the multi-generational impact of their untimely, unjust loss.
(Credits to come)