Before Rosa Parks There Was Elizabeth Jennings Graham

Here is the scene: A young African-American woman is running late and opts for public transportation. The segregation laws and customs of the time deny her a seat because of her skin color. In defiance of the blatant injustice, she insists upon having an equal right to a seat. That put her on a collision course with the justice system and subjected her to the outrage of the community.

You say that you’ve heard the story before, right? Obviously, we’re talking about Rosa Parks’ courageous stand in 1955 in Montgomery, Alabama, aren’t we?

Try again. A century before Rosa Parks, there was a woman by the name of Elizabeth Jennings (later, she would become Elizabeth Jennings Graham), who refused to put up with racial injustice and took a stand — more importantly, a seat — for desegregation.

So join us and take a seat — everyone is welcome for this journey — as we visit the often-overlooked civil rights pioneer and hero, Elizabeth Jennings Graham.

“I Have No People”

It was a hot Sunday in July, 1854. Elizabeth was running late. She was the organist at the First Colored American Congregational Church, and her punctuality has fallen victim to the ticking clock. Desperate to make it on time, she darted toward a Third Avenue streetcar.

Now, let’s set the scene. New York City in 1854 was no utopia of equality. Slavery had been abolished in the state since 1827, but segregation was alive and thriving. When Jennings tried to board the streetcar, the conductor informed her she’d need to wait for the “colored” car, which “had [her] people in it.” Jennings, channeling the kind of resolve that would make Rosa Parks proud a century later, declared, “I have no people,” and boarded the streetcar anyway.

After she demanded to stay on the streetcar, the conductor said, “Well, you may go in, but remember, if the passengers raise any objections you shall go out.” Jennings responded that she “was a respectable person, born and raised in New York” and “that he was a good for nothing impudent fellow for insulting decent persons while on their way to church.” This riled the conductor, who tried to pull her from the car where she clung to the window sash. She recalled:

[The conductor and driver] then both seized hold of me by the arms and pulled and dragged me flat down on the bottom of the platform, so that my feet hung one way and my head the other, nearly on the ground. I screamed murder with all my voice, and my companion screamed out, “You’ll kill her. Don’t kill her.” The driver then let go of me and went to his horses. I went again in the car, and the conductor said you shall sweat for this. Then (he) told the driver to drive as fast as he could and not to take another passenger in the car, to drive until he saw an officer or a Station House.

In reporting the incident in February 1855, Horace Greeley’s New York Tribune noted:

She got upon one of the company’s cars last summer, on the Sabbath, to ride to church. The conductor undertook to get her off, first alleging the car was full; when that was shown to be false, he pretended the other passengers were displeased at her presence; but (when) she insisted on her rights, he took hold of her by force to expel her. She resisted. The conductor got her down on the platform, jammed her bonnet, soiled her dress and injured her person. Quite a crowd gathered, but she effectually resisted. Finally, after the car had gone on further, with the aid of a policeman they succeeded in removing her.

Tauntingly, the police officer admonished her to “get redress if you can.”

Spoiler alert: That’s exactly what she decided to do.

The Original Class-Action Queen

Elizabeth’s ordeal could have ended there, another injustice swept under the rug of history. But Elizabeth was not your average commuter. Her family, outraged by the incident, took the matter to court.

They retained the law firm of Culver, Parker, and Arthur. The attorney who represented her was the 24-year-old junior partner who was just getting started in the practice of law and was looking to make a name for himself. His name was Chester A. Arthur. Yes, that Chester A. Arthur, who would later grace the Oval Office as the 21st President of the United States.

Elizabeth’s case wasn’t just about one woman being kicked off a streetcar; it became a test case for the civil rights of African Americans in New York. In February 1855, the New York State Supreme Court awarded Jennings $225 in damages (about $8,000 today) and ruled that African Americans could not be excluded from public transit as long as they were “sober, well-behaved, and free from disease.” Because apparently, basic human rights had to come with qualifiers back then.

The Domino Effect

Elizabeth’s victory didn’t magically end segregation on New York’s transit system, but it cracked the foundation. Her case inspired others to push back. Rev. James W.C. Pennington, a formerly enslaved man turned pastor, was ejected from a horsecar mere months after Jennings’s win. Peter Porter faced a similar fate in 1856. These incidents led to more legal battles, and transit companies began begrudgingly revising their policies. By 1873, New York State passed a Civil Rights Act, officially banning discrimination in public transportation.

Elizabeth Jennings Graham didn’t stop at her streetcar rebellion. She continued to break barriers, working as a teacher until the 1860s and later founding New York City’s first kindergarten for African-American children in 1895. She lived to see many of the changes her actions helped inspire, passing away in 1901.

A Legacy Finally Recognized

Despite her contributions, Elizabeth’s name faded into obscurity, overshadowed by more famous civil rights figures. It wasn’t until 2007—153 years after her bold stand—that a street corner in Manhattan was renamed “Elizabeth Jennings Place.”

Jennings may not be a household name, but her legacy is monumental. She was Rosa Parks before Rosa Parks, a quiet yet unyielding force against injustice. Her story reminds us that change often begins with one person’s refusal to accept the unacceptable—and sometimes, that refusal happens on a streetcar.

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