New York City Draft Riots: the Result of Irish Discrimination

Today I come to you as an Irish immigrant and to tell you of the discrimination Americans distributed on my family, friends, and myself. Back at my home in New York City in 1863, I lived this story of discrimination.

I'm going to tell you about the results of what happens when low citizens feel betrayed by their new country. Blood was spilled with no regard, and authority was mocked. To us this time was called Draft Week, but you know it as the New York City Draft Riots of 1863

When we came to America we came for the simple reason of survival. Many of us came to escape British mercantilism and economic problems. Others came to escape the Great Potato Famine when over two million people left Ireland.

We left usually in boats of merchants that were tiny in size with disease and little supplies. We called them Coffin Ships. The journey was hard and once we finally reached America we were so certain it was a new start for our families!

But we didn't see what was in store for us when we came with little money and only a few possessions. The Protestant-Anglo-Saxon Society looked down on us as uneducated and unskilled, with no idea how to live in big cities. It was impossible to find work and homes. Our lives did not get any better as we hoped.

On January 1, 1863, President Lincoln, signed the Emancipation Proclamation, that freed all the slaves from every state that was rebelling against the Union. The freed slaves were now competing with us jobs.

Jobs were scarce enough, no one wanted to hire us, and many were forced to work on the fishing piers, in the factories, or in hotels for little or almost no pay.

Negros were treated with the same prejudice as we Irish . Many said "Negros are just black on the outside, but the Irish are white on the outside and black on the inside."

Is this the place our parents envisioned us growing up? We went into an intense labor fight with the Negros then. And we began to feel 18 years of resentment.

Things were getting no better. We lived in small dirty with no room to walk around in! And were often shared by two or more families.

But finally we were allowed to apply for citizenship! We might be getting somewhere! But I can't believe we didn't see this coming.

The first battle of the Civil War, the First Battle of Bull Run, took a heavy death toll on the Union Army. So Lincoln Passed the Enrollment Act on March 3^rd that required every man who was 18-35 years old who filed for citizenship to be drafted for 3 years of military service.

After struggling through life with you, you expected us to go risk our lives to fight for you?

Then some of the Democrats against managed to set up a $300 commutation fee, so a man could buy his way out.

That is completely unfair! The men who've been citizens for a long time and has money will be merrily buying his way out of it! But we Irish who weren't considered part of the country have to go and fight, and very possibly die. We did not board Coffin Ships to come here just for another chance at death.

Of coarse some formed groups, and made so that if someone in their group were drafted, they would all chip in the $300 so they wouldn't have to go. But these groups did not welcome a Irish man. As many said "It was a rich mans war, but it was the poor mans fight and death."

The first drawing for the war was on Saturday July 11, and the names were pulled one by one, and then posted in the newspaper. And the second draft was on Monday July 13 the first day of the Riots.

I had woken up that day and crawled out of the basement to stretch my legs.

I wandered around the city that morning for quite some time, it was unusually quiet. It was when a church somewhere off in the distance struck their bells 10 o'clock when I saw it.

The mob was headed straight for the Ninth District Provost Marshal's Office, where the second draft was currently taking place. I had never seen such destruction at once. They shouted curses, threw rocks at the windows and set the building ablaze.

And that's also when I remembered that the New York Militia was in Pennsylvania, leaving New York City without protection

I looked at the burning building to mob, I ran for home. But I found more rioters coming from 47^th Street too. So I ran the other way. I saw the police being over thrown by rioters. Everywhere my path was blocked.

The rioters took no mercy on anyone in their way, so I hid in an alley.

Once they'd moved out I crawled out of my hiding place and took off looking for new path home. But I was kept being forced separate ways, seeing many things.

The Bull's Head hotel and the Mayors home were burned to the ground, like many others. I ran through the smoke, ash, and rubble on the street, avoiding the mob for my life.

Once I noticed blood from around the corner, and when I looked I saw a young Negro girl lying there dead. I heard a gunshot and ran into the hanging of a Negro man. And then I saw the burning of The Colored Orphan Asylum.

I laid on the ground that night unable to sleep in fear.

My Ma forbad me to leave the basement the next morning but my brother went out. He told me that some firefighters joined the mob. The rain from the previous night had put out most of the fires. The rioters were attacking the city's Republicans, like the activist Mrs. Gibbons.

Governor Seymour made a speech saying that that the draft was unconstitutional. But the statement was too late for the rioters, the damage had been done, and the men had been drafted.

By the end of the day all the troops were brought back by General Wool. Almost 800 troops came to restrain the riot.

I had another restless night in my basement as I heard the troops march above us.

On Wednesday I climbed out the storm door. I looked down where a crumpled newspaper was, I bent down to pick it up and smoothed it and recognized a few words.

I was about to turn the corner there were two militia men with the same article. I listened until I heard them say that the article stated that the draft was suspended!

I ran down the street, but I found more rioting. Confused why they were still fighting I watched, and even though there were less men fighting they were evenly matched against the militia who was fighting back with equal force, but they had guns.

The next day, Thursday, I did the same. But I was careful not to wander, I crouched behind a trash bin and watched all the American Militia men walk by my hiding spot.

For most of the day I hid there counting all the militia that were brought into the city. There were so many men marching their way into our city, I swore that everyone else in the city had left and they had moved in!

They came from all over as I listened from my hiding spot. Some came from Fort Schuyler. Some even came from a place called Maryland. But there were no signs of riots, so I figured they must've gained control. I later gained knowledge that there had been several thousand troops in the city.

Later that night when I went back to the basement, Ma ushered me back out. She led us down the destroyed and blood spilled roads towards Gramercy Park.

I asked why we were going there. She didn't answer. I found out it was a final confrontation. We found Pa eventually, but we weren't able to get close.

I saw some rioters in the front. I asked why they were standing up in the front with the officials, a cloud of squirmy-ness growing in my stomach. Ma and Pa didn't respond.

I listened around me, and then I realized that he and many others were going to be killed.... Ma and Pa led us away before it happened though, enough blood had been lost already.

So this is where my story comes to an end. It turns out that damage done to the city was immense. The death toll was never known, but no doubt hundreds were killed or injured. At least fifty buildings in the city were burned to the ground, and property damage cost the city about $1.5 million.

I don't know what to quite make of it all. Whether I should be loyally proud that my background fought for our share in our new homeland, or ashamed of the death and destruction we brought upon the story.

But we came to your land for the simple reason of survival, risking our lives in Coffin Ships, so that our future generations might live with the chance of happiness. But it was thrown back into our faces. We worked hard, but no one wanted us. Forced to live in basements no larger then several paces and treated worse then Negros. You once discriminated by color, but what did you discriminate by with us?

Insulted to be thrown to such lows of your society, we brooded in those years, and longed for the freedom the citizens obtained. And once we got that taste of possible citizenship we felt tricked to have to go and fight. So we rebelled.

Maybe we could've done it in a more civilized manner. To this day that riot is still the bloodiest in your history, but you weren't listening to us before, so what were we to do?So I suppose I'm both. I'm proud that we finally stood up for ourselves in a bold and heard way, but slightly ashamed of the violence behind it all. All we wanted was acceptance, and being denied it the conflict was but to happen. So So now I leave you to return to my Irish family, my story is told, my job is done, I must go back to July 1863, and deal with the effect of our discrimination; the New York City Draft Riots of 1863.

"New York Draft Riots - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia." Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. 13 May 2009
Harris, Leslie M.. "The New York City Draft Riots of 1863."University of Chicago Press, Books. 13 May 2009