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The Silencing of Ruby McCollum: Race, Class, and Gender in the South
The Silencing of Ruby McCollum refutes the carefully constructed public memory of one of the most famous—and under-examined—biracial murders in American history. On August 3, 1952, African American housewife Ruby McCollum drove to the office of Dr. C. LeRoy Adams, beloved white physician in the segregated small town of Live Oak, Florida. With her two young children in tow, McCollum calmly gunned down the doctor during (according to public sentiment) “an argument over a medical bill.” Soon, a very different motive emerged, with McCollum alleging horrific mental and physical abuse at Adams’s hand. In reaction to these allegations and an increasingly intrusive media presence, the town quickly cobbled together what would become the public facade of Adams’s murder—a more “acceptable” motive for McCollum’s actions. To ensure this would become the official version of events, McCollum’s trial prosecutors voiced multiple objections during her testimony to limit what she was allowed to say.
Employing multiple methodologies to achieve her voice—historical research, feminist theory, African American literary criticism, African American history, and investigative journalism—Evans analyzes the texts surrounding the affair to suggest that an imposed code of silence demands not only the construction of an official story but also the transformation of a community’s citizens into agents who will reproduce and perpetuate this version of events, improbable and unlikely though they may be.
Employing multiple methodologies to achieve her voice—historical research, feminist theory, African American literary criticism, African American history, and investigative journalism—Evans analyzes the texts surrounding the affair to suggest that an imposed code of silence demands not only the construction of an official story but also the transformation of a community’s citizens into agents who will reproduce and perpetuate this version of events, improbable and unlikely though they may be.
208 pages, Hardcover
First published September 9, 2006
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Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
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May 22, 2020I was hoping that this would be like Furious Hours: Murder, Fraud, and the Last Trial of Harper Lee, which examines a controversial trial covered by a famous author. But alas, it is not.
Instead, Silencing is a much more academic book. Evans gives us the facts of McCollum's trials, but interspersed with the details are long passages citing other writers' views on silences, traumas, something called discursivity, etc. Some historical passages, such as the fact that Florida had 61 lynchings in the two decades preceding the McCollum trial, I appreciated. Others I either had to force myself to read or else skimmed or skipped.
I was disappointed at how little I learned about Ruby McCollum as a person. Evans makes clear that those who tried to write about the McCollum case met with silence from her family members and the Black community. But what was McCollum like as a person? What was her relationship with her children? It was noted, at one point, that she knew the address of her son, who was in the military, by heart, an address that included many digits, and that she wrote to him from prison. But what was their relationship like? Did he ever visit her? (Evans notes several times that only attorneys and family members were allowed to visit her while she was incarcerated and, later, institutionalized. But she doesn't say whether family members ever did visit.)
Who took care of her three younger children when she was arrested? Did she ever again see the youngest, supposedly fathered by the white doctor whom McCollum shot and who was 18 months old at her arrest?
Evans notes that Zora Neale Hurston wrote a 10-part series on McCollum's life for the Pittsburgh-Courier. Given that she draws extensively from Hurston and Huie, a white male journalist who also wrote about the trial, I wish she'd included more details about McCollum as a person--even if no one will ever know what exactly happened that led to that fateful Sunday afternoon.
It did re-spark my interest in the (later) life of Zora Neale Hurston and makes me want to read Zora Neale Hurston: A Life in Letters as well as her 1953 10-part series for The Pittsburgh Courier.
Instead, Silencing is a much more academic book. Evans gives us the facts of McCollum's trials, but interspersed with the details are long passages citing other writers' views on silences, traumas, something called discursivity, etc. Some historical passages, such as the fact that Florida had 61 lynchings in the two decades preceding the McCollum trial, I appreciated. Others I either had to force myself to read or else skimmed or skipped.
I was disappointed at how little I learned about Ruby McCollum as a person. Evans makes clear that those who tried to write about the McCollum case met with silence from her family members and the Black community. But what was McCollum like as a person? What was her relationship with her children? It was noted, at one point, that she knew the address of her son, who was in the military, by heart, an address that included many digits, and that she wrote to him from prison. But what was their relationship like? Did he ever visit her? (Evans notes several times that only attorneys and family members were allowed to visit her while she was incarcerated and, later, institutionalized. But she doesn't say whether family members ever did visit.)
Who took care of her three younger children when she was arrested? Did she ever again see the youngest, supposedly fathered by the white doctor whom McCollum shot and who was 18 months old at her arrest?
Evans notes that Zora Neale Hurston wrote a 10-part series on McCollum's life for the Pittsburgh-Courier. Given that she draws extensively from Hurston and Huie, a white male journalist who also wrote about the trial, I wish she'd included more details about McCollum as a person--even if no one will ever know what exactly happened that led to that fateful Sunday afternoon.
It did re-spark my interest in the (later) life of Zora Neale Hurston and makes me want to read Zora Neale Hurston: A Life in Letters as well as her 1953 10-part series for The Pittsburgh Courier.
March 12, 2022
Super academic read. Brought up some very interesting points and introduced me to some other works that I might never have known. Honestly, the gem for me was finding an article by Zora Neal Hurston in it's entirety in the back.
November 26, 2019
This book was difficult to wade through for me. The less than 150 pages, which would normally take me just a few days, required a month to complete. I had to force myself to sit with it despite my interest in Ruby McCollum's case. It is highly repetitive throughout and is unnecessarily sesquipedalian (to follow in the author's use of superfluous big words). The book focuses more on the real-life linguistic function of silence than the actual trial, which at times I appreciated, at others, I disdained. It does put forth some interesting theories, but the main focus felt like it was on Zora Neale Hurston's relationship to the case. I feel as though I learned more about Hurston than McCollum, though, in many ways, this was not the fault of the author as McCollum was indeed silenced entirely. I did greatly appreciate the author's description of her journey locating McCollum's real (possible) burial place, as well as the addendum at the end of the full transcript of Hurston's report regarding her experience in the courtroom during McCollum's trial. The first gave me a true feel for the community where Ruby lived. The second is beautifully written and telling.
April 23, 2021
Sobering and detailed account of the events leading to and streaming from the killing of a small town physician, the questions left unanswered, and the lives impacted. Zora Neale Hurston attempted to cover this trial as a journalist, but she wrote elsewhere that she believed Ruby McCollum to be guilty of murder. The facts of the case are not nearly as clear or neatly packaged. The trial transcripts make it known that Ms. McCollum was not allowed to tell the story. This book helps to give voice to her.
Some of us know this story and its kin already. Some don't want to know.
Some of us know this story and its kin already. Some don't want to know.
September 14, 2019
This book is terrible. It’s written like a sociology paper. The storyline is incredible and I wish it had more facts in it than quotes of other books.
February 2, 2024
More academic than I was hoping for. I did learn some interesting things from it, though.
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September 27, 2017* Understanding Oppression: African American Rights (Then and Now)
In 1952, Ruby McCollum, the wealthiest African-American woman in Live Oak, murdered the town’s beloved doctor, a white man named Leroy Adams. She said it was the only way she knew to end six years of rape. The case would help show that a persistent form of bondage plagued the South for a century after the Civil War — “paramour rights,” the assumption that white men had a right to use African-American women for sex.
In 1952, Ruby McCollum, the wealthiest African-American woman in Live Oak, murdered the town’s beloved doctor, a white man named Leroy Adams. She said it was the only way she knew to end six years of rape. The case would help show that a persistent form of bondage plagued the South for a century after the Civil War — “paramour rights,” the assumption that white men had a right to use African-American women for sex.
October 24, 2015
It read too much like a research paper, and I wasn't in the mood for a research paper. But, compelling story. It's too bad so many thorough writers could not break the silence of the South to get to Ruby's story.
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews