Chapter 3 Bridging Religion and Black Nationalism The Founding of St. Philips African Orthodox Church and the Universal Negro Improvement Association Hall in Whitney Pier, 1900–1930

The UNIA in Canada

There were thirty-two UNIA halls established throughout Canada. Among them, twelve were in Nova Scotia, with three on the island of Cape Breton. These three halls were established in Whitney Pier, Glace Bay, and New Waterford, all communities with Caribbean migrants.19 Marano points out that people from the Caribbean often joined the UNIA because of their frustration over their low-paying jobs. Historian Winston James points to the “rigorous gatekeeping on the basis of race,” often encountered by skilled workers from the Caribbean, as the impetus for turning to Black nationalism.20 In Sydney, the Caribbean migrants tended to be hired as labourers, relegated mostly to low-status and low-paying positions in the steel company. Most were employed in the blast furnace, the dirtiest and most dangerous part of the steel-making process, and forced to live in the most basic accommodations.21 They were also not allowed to join labour unions until years later. A separate meeting space for ethnic workers (which most likely did not include Blacks from the US or the Caribbean) was not created until the early 1920s.22 This suggests a context that needed an organization such as Garvey’s, one that sought to address the needs of Black workers. At the 1920 UNIA International Convention in Harlem, St. Vincent native George Creese, a shoemaker by trade, was present as a member of the Canadian delegation. Creese was an active member of the UNIA in New Aberdeen (Glace Bay), Nova Scotia, and even served as UNIA high commissioner of Canada. At this convention, Creese provided the international audience with insight into the lives of Black Cape Bretoners:

We have many [Black] skilled mechanics, printers, carpenters, masons, photographers, engineers, riveters, but they cannot get employment at their trades. Hence they have to seek work in the steel plants as labourers, as bricklayers, and as firemen. . . . A system exists there of collecting a poll tax, everyone being required to pay $10 for police protection, good streets, etc. If the tax is not paid, the police call at the house and take the individual to jail. This practice applies only to the colored people. . . . Housing conditions, too, are deplorable in Eastern Canada and in Nova Scotia. Rents are excessively high.23

Creese’s vivid picture of life for Black community members in the 1920s echoes the issues raised by Winston James about the lack of access skilled tradespeople from the Caribbean had in the workforce. Discussion of the poll tax and its impact on the Black community is also interesting. In its early years, the city of Sydney, incorporated in 1904, was very reliant on its poll taxes. The taxes were collected by the local constables, and the city charter provided a warrant to the officers, which allowed for the seizure of property in cases of delinquent payment. When individuals were unable to provide the monetary value of this property to pay their taxes, the warrant allowed for the arrest of their person.24 While the charter made no reference to race, the financial circumstances of the Black residents in Sydney may have meant that paying the poll tax was not always within their means and could have resulted in their arrests for nonpayment. This quote is our only evidence to date, since the records for the Sydney Police during this period are believed to have been lost in one of several fires in the city in the first decades of the twentieth century.

At the 1921 UNIA convention, the Canadian delegates “spoke very encouragingly of that country as a good field for the association, declaring there was little or no opposition to the movement [coming to Sydney] the chief difficulty being the serious economic conditions existing.”25 Black Canadians provided clear evidence of their financial situations.26

In addition to labour and other economic woes being voiced by the Black community, the racial climate would have also been trying. On 28 March 1917, the SS Southland sailed out of Halifax harbour with over four thousand troops, including members of what would become known as Canada’s first and only Black battalion. Their departure marked the end of a three-year struggle on the part of African Canadian communities across the country, who had sought inclusion in the Canadian Expeditionary Force. The history of this group demonstrates the courage and determination of African Canadians to serve their country, despite the harmful effects of racial discrimination and the long-standing prejudices that prevailed regarding Black courage, industry, and patriotism. At the outbreak of World War I, Black men were routinely turned away from recruiting stations across the country, although no official legislation denied their enlistment. According to historian James Walker, this was in keeping with the general sentiments surrounding the concept of “race” during this period.27 For nearly two years, Canadian Blacks and other visible minorities petitioned the government, seeking to enlist in the armed forces as part of their national duty. Many also saw their enlistment as a means of being seen and treated as men in contexts where they were considered second-class citizens.28 Among this group were many of the recently arrived Caribbean migrants residing in Whitney Pier.

Across Canada, over four hundred Black men enlisted and served in military units. However, several stories abound about Black men willing to take up arms but being rebuffed. For example, a group of approximately fifty Black men from Sydney, both Canadian and West Indian, attempted to enlist sometime in 1916 but were told they were not wanted in a “white man’s war.”29 A statement from Major General W. Gwatkin, then chief of the general staff, provides evidence of the racial attitudes that prevailed in the Canadian military at the time. He wrote in a memo dated April 1916,

Nothing is to be gained by blinking facts. The civilized negro is vain and imitative; in Canada he is not being impelled to enlist by a high sense of duty; in the trenches he is not likely to make a good fighter; and the average white man will not associate with him on terms of equality. Not a single commanding officer in Military District No. 2 is willing to accept a coloured platoon as part of his battalion; and it would be humiliating to the coloured men themselves to serve in a battalion where they were not wanted.30

In the face of such adamant refusal, their hopes were not easily met. To gain access to the military, they would have to openly challenge the government to enforce their civil rights.31 Extensive pressure was placed on both the military and the country’s government by members of the clergy, educators, and community leaders. A long series of letters and petitions survive, revealing the determination of African Canadians to demonstrate their loyalty to Canada and to the Crown. The fact that Canada was struggling to meet the year-end goal of half a million volunteers in 1916 would have likely contributed to the change of heart in terms of enlisting Black soldiers. “The need for more men was acute, especially as enlistment figures fell . . . and recruiting officers reached out to find men where they could.”32 The long wait and perhaps the negative experiences of being denied by the military made it difficult for the new No. 2 to find men, and the unit was faced with the same issues of diminishing volunteer numbers, even with the Borden government having passed the 1917 Military Service Act, a law mandating conscription. Records suggest that with the passage of this act, Canadian military commanders were concerned with not being able to recruit enough Black men for the unit, in contrast to a year prior, when Black men were routinely turned away.33 Conscription forced several Black men from the Sydney Black community to enlist, even though they had previously been refused access to the military.34

The No. 2 Construction Battalion received authorization on 5 July 1916 and recruited men from across the nation. During this period, the January 1917 issue of the Atlantic Advocate posted a strong letter urging “every colored man and woman” to “take a pardonable pride in the battalion.” The letter also “appeals to patriotism” and urges those wishing to “shape the future of the race” to join the No. 2.35 The men of the battalion joined in the recruitment efforts, as noted in the Advocate, which described concerts being put on by the coloured band of the No. 2. At strength, the battalion was made up of 605 men of all ranks from across Canada, the Caribbean, and the United States and 19 officers, under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Daniel H. Sutherland, with the sole Black officer being their captain and chaplain, Reverend William A. White.36

The struggles of the unit would continue on the other side of the Atlantic as well. As members of the Canadian Expeditionary Force, most Black Canadians had not been permitted to bear arms nor to serve in integrated units. Upon arrival in Europe, the limited size of the No. 2 resulted in it being relegated to serving as a labour company attached to the Forestry Corps. With just over six hundred men, the Canadian unit was understrength for a battalion but overstrength for a company. The only viable solution was to redesignate the unit, which meant a reduction in rank for Sutherland to major so he could remain with his unit. While stationed in France, the unit was used to perform logging duties, build roads, and restore buildings, among other construction jobs.37 Though the No. 2 Construction Battalion worked side by side with white units, they had to remain segregated in their non-working activities. They endured multiple slights in their time overseas, many of which were stark reminders of the realities of a racialized social order both there and in Canada.38 As Walker made clear, “Throughout the ranks of the Allies, with the partial exception of the French, non-white soldiers and workers were humiliated, restricted, and exploited. It was simply not their war.”39 These military experiences stood in contrast to the many positive interactions between Black soldiers and the civilian populations in many European spaces, which were unlike the everyday experiences of racial subjugation to which they returned in North America.

Returning after the war were men like Harold Best, who had arrived in Canada in July 1917 from Barbados and had joined the Nova Scotia Regiment in May 1918.40 The Canada to which he returned was in many ways quite different from the one he had left. With the men having gone off to war, many communities had called upon women and workers of colour, including even more Caribbean migrants, to take on their jobs in the factories, the mines, and elsewhere. Black employees gained access to spaces of employment that had previously been closed to them.41

As Walker notes, the experience of these men in World War I provides evidence for the racial sentiments in Canada during this period. Once again, the stereotypes of the period erased logic and evidence. The dissatisfaction Blacks felt with conditions at home in Great Britain, Canada, and the US after World War I made the Garvey movement very appealing globally.42 In Sydney, the Liberty Hall opened on Lingan Road in 1919, with a membership of about 250.43 Grenadian-born Alvinus Calder became its first president. Marano notes, “The Negro World reported that ‘down in Sydney more than half the Negro population’ claims membership to the UNIA and they ‘labor with the most indefatigable determination to see the realization of the highest hopes—a free and redeemed Negro race.’”44

As perhaps the clearest depiction of the presence of the UNIA in Sydney, in 1921, the local Sydney Post shared a photograph depicting members of the UNIA marching band on Laurier Street in Whitney Pier, followed by members of the Black Cross Nurses (BCN) in uniform as well as others carrying banners proclaiming, “Africa for the Africans.” The photograph also depicts a large group of Black onlookers.45 The UNIA band appears to have been an active part of the community, playing at parades, funerals, and political meetings, sometimes with the West Indian band, which was also active.46 As one community member, whose father was a member of the band, recalled, “They played for parades, and anything that required music, these men were available.”47

While they remembered the bands, community members also recalled the BCN in Whitney Pier. One woman noted, “The Black Cross Nurses was an organization very similar to your community workers, where they had people from the community who would, when women had their babies . . . go into the home and cook and clean and help look after the other children . . . it was a support for other women in the communities.” Community elder Beryl Braithwaite also remembered the nurses as mainly midwives who had been going around the community for years and years, going into women’s homes and helping with childcare and housework.48 BCN, as an auxiliary of the UNIA, was expected to “carry on a system of relief and . . . attend to the sick of the Division to which the public Auxiliary is attached.”49 Once they were formally chartered, each UNIA division would have had its own BCN. The BCN became a formalized professional body with specialized training.

According to historian Natanya Duncan,

Within the auxiliary, careful instruction was provided to each member, in most cases by either a trained nurse or doctor. At the end of courses that lasted from six months to a year, a graduation ceremony was held and diploma issued prior to the donning of either the all-white uniform worn in public events or the green and white uniform worn while at work, which each member had to purchase personally.50

In Toronto, the BCN was a popular auxiliary, and its members were required to take the St. John’s Ambulance course in first aid.51 It is not known if the Nova Scotia BCN required its membership to complete St. John’s Ambulance training as well. Active in a period when nursing schools were not admitting women of colour, BCNs served an important role in the Black community, creating both a practical and a representational space. For example, during a period when there would have been limited public health services, they ensured that Black women in the community had access to pre- and postnatal care and education. This photograph and the oral history both tell us there were BCNs in Nova Scotia. According to Marano, the New Aberdeen Division organized a BCN in 1921.52 Garveyites from the different Atlantic communities travelled readily to meetings and events at others. As Braithwaite noted, “They would come to Sydney if there was special meetings . . . they had a UNIA in New Waterford also and they would come to meetings here in Sydney.”53 Marano describes a tight-knit community in Glace Bay, centred around the UNIA Hall, but visits between community halls for meetings and social events suggest a dedicated Caribbean community across Cape Breton. The Negro World provides extensive examples of events in which all three Cape Breton divisions actively took part. Some include a special Easter service put on by the New Aberdeen Division in May 1922, with members from the other two in attendance; a private convention held for all three divisions in Glace Bay in 1933; and all three divisions attending an Empire Day picnic held in Glace Bay in May 1935.54

According to the Nova Scotia Gleaner, the Whitney Pier UNIA Hall had thirty-one financial members on the books as of their meeting on 15 September 1929.55 The issue of “financial members” versus others is something Marano raises. She notes the existence of a two-tiered system of membership in the UNIA, with active members who paid dues and regular members who attended events and volunteered their time.56 The organization was still clearly an active part of the community’s social life, with the UNIA band playing most events and members of the community joining in celebration at their annual picnics, participating in boat cruises chartered by the UNIA, and attending UNIA parades. The Liberty Hall was at the centre of many of the events and held dances, dramatic events, musicals, and athletic activities.57 Braithwaite remembers, “Our entertainment was at the UNIA Hall, which was on Lingan Road. They would have dances and concerts. We held beauty contests and they had their meetings there also in the UNIA.”58

St. Philip’s African Orthodox Church, Sydney, Nova Scotia

St. Philip’s African Orthodox Church is the only church of this denomination in Canada. It is part of a larger network of churches that arose out of New York City in the 1920s that were dedicated to a belief that Black Episcopalians should have their own denomination. The church focuses on apostolic succession, with Peter the Apostle as its first bishop. According to Braithwaite, the church came about partly because “the coloured people used to go to the churches down the Pier, and remarks were passed that they didn’t want Blacks in their church, so they had to find some place of their own.”59 Most Black families in Whitney Pier have been members of St. Philip’s, although that membership appears to be fluid for some. For example, Elizabeth Beaton noticed that some of the Caribbean names appearing in the records of Holy Redeemer Catholic Parish Church also appear in the records of the Victoria Methodist Church.60 To explain this, perhaps we only need to think of the Black church and what it has come to represent in the Americas. According to African American history and religion scholar Evelyn Brooks Higginbotham, there were many roles played by the church in Black community life. It served as “an agent of social control, forum of discussion and debate, promoter of education and economic cooperation, and arena for the development and assertion of leadership.”61 Perhaps in cases where people’s names showed up in more than one congregation, multiple churches served multiple functions in their lives—spiritual as well as social. Embracing Black nationalist religious ideology, the church also provided its membership with a brotherhood that spanned the globe.

To understand the formation of St. Philip’s, we need to take a look at the history of the formation of the African Orthodox Church (AOC) in Harlem, which is closely affiliated with the history of the UNIA. This church was founded by George Alexander McGuire, who, like Garvey, had been born in the British West Indies. McGuire was born in Antigua in 1866 and lived there until he completed his studies at the theological seminary in 1894. He then made his way to the United States, where he worked for several years as an ordained Episcopal priest, mainly to Black congregants. In 1910, he received his medical degree in Boston, after which he served as a Protestant Episcopal minister until 1913, when he returned home to Antigua and worked as both a family doctor and a minister. In his years in the Episcopal Church, McGuire had been disheartened by the racism he saw, and on his return to the US, he became involved with other independent Black Episcopal clergy who were also dissatisfied with the church. They were disappointed at the subordinate role of Black congregants, and West Indian ministers recognized that they had received better treatment in the West Indian Anglican church. With this realization, McGuire began to articulate his belief in the importance of and need for separate spaces for Black adherents to worship.62

Garvey and McGuire became acquainted in 1918 on McGuire’s return to America, and McGuire became involved with the UNIA, rising very quickly through the ranks. Both men held similar views in terms of racial pride and self-determination, and both thought the church should work to dispel notions of Black inferiority and advance the cause of the Negro in America. Garvey named McGuire chaplain general of the UNIA. In this role, McGuire directed the other clergy within the UNIA as they saw to the spiritual needs of the membership.63

McGuire sought ways of establishing an independent Black church, which he was able to do on 9 November 1919, when he resigned from the Reformed Episcopal Church and founded the Church of the Good Shepherd as an independent Episcopal church. McGuire’s resignation was necessary because his standing in the UNIA was now in conflict with the fact that the Reformed Episcopal Church possessed a mostly white membership and leadership. The need for a Black church meant he needed to separate from the Reformed Church.64 His new church was renamed the African Orthodox Church in 1921. Perhaps this was to indicate its connections to the UNIA and the greater cause of Black nationalism.65

In his role as chaplain general of the UNIA, McGuire continued working toward the formation of the independent orthodox church, expecting that it would become the church of the UNIA. For example, he authored the UNIA’s Universal Negro Ritual, modelled after the Book of Common Prayer, as well as the Universal Negro Catechism. These were foundational texts for the UNIA, serving to guide the order of services and to educate the membership on the history, purpose, and theology of the UNIA.66 However, in 1921 when McGuire was elected bishop of the Independent Episcopal Church, while both the election and the formation of the AOC were noted in the Negro World, there was a clear statement made disassociating the UNIA from the AOC. The editorial clarified the position of the UNIA, indicating that they favoured all churches but adopted none as the UNIA church.67 Despite this, McGuire continued in his dual roles as the spiritual leader of the UNIA and as the bishop of the new AOC. He continued his quest to build a church to unite all Negros in a spiritual space they could call their own. He founded, edited, and published the journal of the AOC, the Negro Churchman, which kept him in direct contact with his growing flock. McGuire was apparently unsatisfied with his status and sought consecration from the Russian Orthodox Church, which refused his request, since the AOC would not allow itself to become part of the Russian Orthodox Church. He next approached the American Catholic Church, and Archbishop Joseph Rene Villate agreed to consecrate McGuire. A ceremony subsequently took place on 29 September 1921, at the Church of Our Lady of Good Death in Chicago.68 McGuire was enthroned as bishop of the new AOC the following day in New York City.69 Again, the Negro World both acknowledged the events and made clear that the UNIA endorsed the AOC only as much as it endorsed all of the other churches with which its members were affiliated and pointed out that Bishop McGuire had resigned from his position as chaplain general upon his election to the episcopate.70 There were issues between McGuire and Garvey, evidenced by the Negro World going as far as warning readers that any suggestion of a different relationship between the AOC and the UNIA was deception on the part of the speaker.71

In a speech given in New York on 18 December 1921, Garvey referred to an incident of particular relevance to this discussion. According to Garvey, McGuire had accused him of sending telegrams when he had not, saying,

I did not send telegrams about the doctor [McGuire] to Sydney, N.S. It was after an appeal was made to me from Nova Scotia by the High Commissioner, Hon. G. D. Creese, of the Dominion of Canada, that through skillful designs they had changed the Liberty Hall of Sydney, N.S. into some orthodox church and that orthodox church had taken away the lease of the building of the UNIA, and that there was great confusion and the people wanted to know whether we were first for the orthodox church or for the Universal Negro Improvement Association, and I sent a telegram to Sydney N.S., that we had nothing to do with McGuire’s church, and that those people who desired to go to him could go, but those who stuck by the association would receive the protection of the UNIA. What else could you expect me to do?72

This speech highlights a public and slanderous rift between the two men at this juncture. The rift would be short-lived, with McGuire being reinstated as chaplain general in 1924 after making public apologies. Perhaps this public severing of relations had been done to emphasize the distinctions between the two organizations. Perhaps Garvey had made a public show of his rift with McGuire to assuage the clerics of other UNIA denominations, who were believed to be at odds with McGuire.73 The speech notably indicates that Garvey was directly in touch with the Whitney Pier community and that theirs was a known division of the UNIA. It also raises questions about McGuire’s process in terms of establishing St. Philip’s in the Pier—when the church was formed and whether or not the members thought they were joining a UNIA church. Did that shape people’s willingness to join? Did McGuire knowingly push this agenda, or did he believe this new church was going to become a part of the UNIA? As noted by Marano, “While the AOC was never the official church or an auxiliary of the UNIA, the two organizations were linked together in time, doctrine, and even membership, especially in Sydney, Nova Scotia.”74

In June 1921, responding to a request from Black steelworkers in Sydney,75 Reverend William Earnest Robertson had been sent from New York by Reverend McGuire to lay the groundwork for the creation of a church in Whitney Pier.76 Almost all the interviewed members of the community noted that the request for a minister or a church arose because of the racism the people in Whitney Pier were experiencing at the time. Robertson remained in the Pier for almost a year, during which he dealt with obstruction from some of the community who were uninterested in the creation of a Black church. This obstruction included direct attacks on Reverend Robertson, his place of residence, and the temporary location of the new church.77 Upon his departure in 1922, plans had been made for a new church, and Reverend Robertson was succeeded by Reverend Arthur Stanley Trotman as leader of the new St. Philips African Orthodox Church.78 Trotman was truly a part of the community, a Barbadian steelworker who had left the community to study and was returning as their religious leader. In the first issue of the Negro Churchman, McGuire stated that the church had “extended its missions through several states, into Canada, Cuba, and Hayti.” Bishop McGuire also reported that there were already “10 Priests, 4 Deacons, 2 Sub-deacons and several Deaconesses, Catechists and Seminarians in training.”79 St. Philip’s had thus become another connection between this community and the broader diaspora.

In its beginning years, St. Philip’s held its services first in St. Mark’s Presbyterian Church on Henry Street, then in a building on Victoria Road, and next in a building on the corner of Lingan Road and Tupper Street, a location that appears to have been the home of then-minister Archpriest Philips.80 In 1923, Bishop McGuire went on a pilgrimage to the churches in New England and then visited Sydney, Nova Scotia’s St. Philip’s African Orthodox Church. On 10 September 1924, Reverend Arthur Stanley Trotman was consecrated at the Church of the Good Shephard by Reverends McGuire and Robertson, becoming St. Philip’s first bishop. Bishop Trotman remained there only a short while after his consecration and was succeeded by Archpriest Dixon Egbert Philips in December 1925. At this point, the congregation agreed to purchase land on Hankard Street from William Fitzgerald, then-mayor of Sydney, on which to erect a permanent church.81 Payments were made to Fitzgerald by church trustees through the Royal Bank of Canada, and church records note the continued payments on the lot over the next few years.82

The building housing St. Philip’s once stood “just inside gate number four” of the steel plant and had served as a storage shed. The building was sold to the St. Philip’s congregation after Dr. Alvinus Calder, a Grenadian-born physician trained at Queen’s University, and others approached the officials at the steel plant and negotiated its purchase.83 As part of the agreement, the community had to arrange for the building to be moved from its location on the grounds of the steel company to the newly purchased lot. The membership, including then Reverend Philips, “put wooden rollers like poles on the tracks . . . and they literally hauled that building over the tracks to where it is present day. . . . Reverend Philips, he was up front and he had a big harness on his shoulders and he was pulling.”84 St. Philip’s almost immediately became the heart of the community.

Many aspects of the social lives of the Caribbean community in Whitney Pier were centred on St. Philip’s. Community members recall annual church picnics (e.g., their annual Dominion Day picnic) and pie socials. The church often went on excursions, sometimes venturing as far as New Campbellton or Louisbourg on the old lake boats. They would pack big baskets of food and make a day of it. The West Indian band and UNIA band would often play music on the boats as they travelled.85 While little found in the church records speaks to the economic climate the community existed in, the transnational connections of the St. Philip’s community allow some understanding of community needs to be drawn from the pages of the Negro Churchman. Through these pages, we gain insight into the ways the mother church worked to aid its member families, making use of its connections to congregations and parishioners throughout the diaspora. For example, in 1923–24, the following item was published in the Negro Churchman:

The Church building in which St. Philips congregation meets has been offered them [sic] for purchase and consideration is now being given to the matter. This would not be a difficult matter were it not for the local economic stagnation. One or two persons in New York having learnt of Bishop Trotman’s need of actual supplies for the body have sent him and Mrs. Trotman donations. ‘The worst is ahead’ he writes. People are starving in Sydney. Any reader of the Churchman may send the Bishop a Dollar through us.86

Church congregations and individuals from New York to Massachusetts responded to this editorial plea.87 At the end of the year, Bishop expressed his thanks to congregations in New York as well as in Massachusetts for having sent donations, enabling Christmas aid from the church for members of the community.88 In the next issue, the Negro Churchman published a letter of gratitude from Bishop Trotman, again thanking all churches and persons who had helped St. Philip’s in her time of need, and informed the readership that the steel plant was in the process of negotiating wages and starting two mills, employing five hundred men, while a few of the mines were working halftime.89

This was a difficult time throughout the Maritimes, with an economic decline that had started in 1920 ravaging various industries. Perhaps most relevant to the population under discussion, the Nova Scotia steel industry was barely surviving. Trying to survive in a tough economic climate, the British Empire Steel and Coal Corporation (BESCO) resulted from the merger of the two major steel and coal corporations in the province and Halifax Shipyards. The merger did not improve the lives of the workers as hoped, and labour conflict was constant during the period. The item noted in the Churchman in terms of labour negotiation and reduced work is just a small peek into the turmoil of the period in this region, as BESCO struggled to survive amid a drop in steel production, increased worker dissatisfaction, and an overall economic recession.90 However, it does raise interesting questions as to the experiences Black industrial workers had during this period. Membership in this transnational group was clearly a benefit, providing a means of survival for this community within a struggling industrial community.

St. Philip’s mirrored the UNIA in terms of its creation of new social spaces and places for support for these Caribbean immigrants and their families, and individuals holding membership or leadership positions in either organization often held membership in both. This has perhaps fueled the continued confusion about the affiliation of the AOC and UNIA. However, both the role of raising race consciousness and the work toward the advancement of members of the Black community made them equally attractive in the context of racism and discrimination.

The networks within the African diaspora in the Americas have been extensive. The advent of improved travel by ship or train created even wider networks. The Black nationalist UNIA served to underscore the diasporic connections from one context to the next, while the Negro World highlighted similarities between communities and peoples. By travelling from their homelands to Sydney to work in the steel business, the members of the Whitney Pier Caribbean community had expanded this network of African diasporic peoples in the Americas.

In this chapter, I have explored the ways in which Black nationalist discourses of the early twentieth century impacted life in Whitney Pier by introducing the UNIA and AOC into the Black community. I examined the relationship between Garvey and McGuire and how they shaped the UNIA and AOC. Both organizations could be examined as they are on the surface: a church and a fraternal organization. However, what makes them worthy of discussion is how they connect this small Caribbean community in Nova Scotia to the broader Black nationalist movements of the early twentieth century. This connection outlines some of the ways in which both the UNIA and AOC worked to unite people across continents into singular notions of racial pride and community. Both movements were actively sought out by the Whitney Pier community, indicating the importance they attached to their racial identity and the racial politics of the period.

Notes

1. 1. The latter group made up the majority of the settlers in the small Black community and, for the most part, identified as “West Indian.” In fact, while migrants came from Barbados, the Bahamas, Brazil, Bermuda, Jamaica, Cuba, Grenada, St. Vincent, St. Kitts, British Guiana, and perhaps other islands, they are mostly remembered and referred to collectively as “Barbadian.”

2. 2. Heron, Working in Steel.

3. 3. See Marano, “For the Freedom”; Marano, “We All Used to Meet at the Hall,” 143–75; Marano, “Rise Strongly and Rapidly,” 233–59; and Toney, “Locating Diaspora,” 75–88.

4. 4. For more on this, see Bertley, “Universal Negro Improvement Association”; Henry, Emancipation Day.

5. 5. It is important to note that archival research on the UNIA often proves difficult, as few divisions have retained historical records for consultation.

6. 6. Ewing, Age of Garvey, 4, 5.

7. 7. “And Conservation” was removed from the title when it was incorporated in New York in 1918.

8. 8. It was through the ACL that Garvey launched and ran many of the UNIA’s business ventures, such as the Black Star Line, the Negro Factories Corporation, and the journal Negro World. For more on this, see Robert Hill, Marcus Garvey, vols. 1–4; Hill and Bair, Marcus Garvey, Life and Lessons.

9. 9. Garvey, Philosophy and Opinions of Marcus Garvey, x.

10. 10. Cronon, Black Moses; Essien-Udom, “Introduction to the Second Edition.”

11. 11. Bracey, Meier, and Rudwick, Black Nationalism in America; Dawson, Behind the Mule.

12. 12. Brown and Shaw, “Separate Nations,” 22–44.

13. 13. VanDeburg, Modern Black Nationalism, 11.

14. 14. Hill, “General Introduction,” xxxvi.

15. 15. Essien-Udom, “Introduction to the Second Edition.”

16. 16. Opie, Black Labor Migration; Mathieu, North of the Color Line.

17. 17. Essien-Udom says this number is a conservative estimate, as Garvey believed the organization had up to six million members at its height. Essien-Udom, “Introduction to the Second Edition.”

18. 18. Martin, Race First, 35.

19. 19. Marano has noted that UNIA Halls seemed to mainly exist in places where West Indians settled. See Marano, “Rise Strongly and Rapidly,” 233–59.

20. 20. Marano, 233–59; James, Holding Aloft the Banner of Ethiopia, 84.

21. 21. Beaton, “African-American Community in Cape Breton,” 65–97.

22. 22. Elizabeth Beaton in conversation with the author. The question of when Black men were officially allowed to join the union is one that requires further exploration.

23. 23. Hill, “Convention Reports,” 535.

24. 24. “K,” General Warrant for Poll Tax, City of Sydney Charter.

25. 25. Hill, “Convention Reports,” 646.

26. 26. Submissions from the Negro Churchman also highlight the reality that the early 1920s were extremely difficult economically for the community. As Nova Scotia was in the midst of the collapse of its industrial economy, this should come as no surprise. For more on the state of labour and the economy in Nova Scotia in the 1920s, see Forbes, Maritime Rights Movement; Frank, “Cape Breton Coal Industry,” 3–34.

27. 27. Walker, “Race and Recruitment,” 1–26.

28. 28. Walker, 5.

29. 29. Ruck, Canada’s Black Battalion.

30. 30. Quoted in Walker, “Race and Recruitment,” 11.

31. 31. Winks, Blacks in Canada.

32. 32. Winks, 317.

33. 33. Ruck, Canada’s Black Battalion; Walker, “Race and Recruitment,” 1–26.

34. 34. Ruck, Canada’s Black Battalion.

35. 35. Atlantic Advocate, no. 7, January 1917, 1.

36. 36. For more on the leadership of this unit, see Ruck, Canada’s Black Battalion; Walker, “Race and Recruitment,” 1–26.

37. 37. Ruck, Canada’s Black Battalion; Walker, “Race and Recruitment,” 1–26.

38. 38. Walker, “Race and Recruitment.”

39. 39. Walker, “Race and Recruitment,” 24.

40. 40. Whitfield Best, interviewed by Claudine Bonner, 2011, Sydney, NS; “Personnel Records of the First World War,” RG 150, Accession 1992–93/166, box 701-26, item number 41949, Library and Archives Canada, Ottawa.

41. 41. Mathieu, North of the Color Line.

42. 42. Mathieu.

43. 43. Weeks, One God, 37.

44. 44. Marano, “Rise Strongly and Rapidly,” 252.

45. 45. United Negro Improvement Association, 78-112-1862, Beaton Institute, Cape Breton University, Sydney, NS.

46. 46. Records of St. Philip’s African Orthodox Church; Beaton, “Religious Affiliation and Ethnic Identity.”

47. 47. Clotilda Yakimchuk, in discussion with the author, Sydney, NS, 2011.

48. 48. Weeks, One God.

49. 49. Hill, “Convention Reports,” 766.

50. 50. Duncan, “Efficient Womanhood,” 136.

51. 51. Marano, “We All Used to Meet at the Hall.”

52. 52. Marano, “For the Freedom of the Black People.”

53. 53. Weeks, One God, 70.

54. 54. “Easter Lavishly Celebrated by New Aberdeen, N.S., Div.,” Negro World, 27 May 1922; Negro World 3 June 1933; “Glace Bay Notes,” Free Lance, 29 June 1935.

55. 55. “UNIA Reorganized,” Nova Scotia Gleaner 1, no. 3 (1929).

56. 56. While there were thirty-one financial members on the books in 1929, we have no way of knowing how many regular members there might have been. Marano, “We All Used to Meet at the Hall”; Nova Scotia Gleaner.

57. 57. Beaton, “Religious Affiliation and Ethnic Identity.”

58. 58. Beryl Braitwaithe, as quoted in Joan Weeks, One God, 70.

59. 59. Braithwaite, “Woman’s View,” 84.

60. 60. Beaton, “Religious Affiliation and Ethnic Identity.”

61. 61. Higginbotham, Righteous Discontent, 4–6.

62. 62. Clearly indicating a desire for a Black church before ever encountering Garvey.

63. 63. Burkett, Garveyism as a Religious Movement.

64. 64. A statement in the Negro World goes on to outline the hope that the Church of the Good Shepherd would become the mother church of their congregation, which it suggests is already growing. Hill, “Convention Reports,” 693–94; Pruter, Strange Partnership.

65. 65. Marano, “For the Freedom of the Black People.”

66. 66. Burkett, Garveyism as a Religious Movement.

67. 67. Burkett.

68. 68. There remains confusion/controversy around this decision on the part of Villate. However, extended details of McGuire’s journey to his consecration by Villate are beyond the scope of this chapter. For a more detailed telling, see Pruter, Strange Partnership; Terry-Thompson, History of the African Orthodox Church.

69. 69. The name of the church had been agreed upon at a synod of the Independent Episcopal Church some weeks prior. Pruter, Strange Partnership; Burkett, Garveyism as a Religious Movement.

70. 70. Or was forced to resign. Newman, “Origins of the African Orthodox Church.”

71. 71. Burkett, Garveyism as a Religious Movement.

72. 72. Hill, Marcus Garvey, 292.

73. 73. Some believe that the special relationship between the two men had caused rifts within the clergy inside the UNIA early on. Pruter, Strange Partnership; Burkett, Garveyism as a Religious Movement.

74. 74. Marano, “For the Freedom of the Black People,” 180.

75. 75. There is no consensus on this origin story. Some say the AOC began at the community’s request; others contend it came as a result of McGuire’s proselytizing. In 1924 the Negro Churchman suggested that while Stanley Trotman was a lay reader, he built up such a large following that the church in New York took notice and sent them an ordained minister.

76. 76. Robertson was McGuire’s number two in this newly formed denomination and would go on to a long career in the church, succeeding McGuire as archbishop upon his death in 1934. Burkett, Garveyism as a Religious Movement.

77. 77. Records of St. Philip’s African Orthodox Church.

78. 78. Francis, “History of the Black Population at Whitney Pier.”

79. 79. Negro Churchman 1 (March 1923): 1.

80. 80. Records of St. Philip’s African Orthodox Church. The Negro Churchman also notes that the church had taken over the Foresters Hall for their use, solely as a church from 1 June 1924.

81. 81. Fitzgerald owned a large portion of the Pier. City of Sydney Annual Reports (Sydney, NS: Macadam, 1920); Beaton, “Religious Affiliation and Ethnic Identity.”

82. 82. Journal, 1926–1930, St. Phillips African Orthodox Church Records, MG 13, 75, acc. no. 80-61-1091, A.2, Beaton Institute, Cape Breton University, Sydney, NS.

83. 83. Beaton, “Religious Affiliation and Ethnic Identity”; Reid, “Toolshed from Gate #4.”

84. 84. Whitfield Best, interviewed by Claudine Bonner, Sydney, NS, 2011.

85. 85. Journal, 1926–1930, St. Phillips African Orthodox Church.

86. 86. Negro Churchman 2 (1923–24): 9.

87. 87. Highlighting the difference in economic climate being experienced in the Maritimes in this period as compared to the relative prosperity being experienced in the Northeastern United States.

88. 88. “Parochial News Items,” Negro Churchman 3 (1925): 1.

89. 89. “Church News,” Negro Churchman 3 (1925): 2.

90. 90. For more on the economic crisis of the early to mid-1920s and its crushing impact on Cape Breton, see Forbes, Maritime Rights Movement; Frank, “Cape Breton Coal Industry.”

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