Virginia's capital city knew poverty, injustice, slavery, vagrancy, substandard working conditions, street crimes, brutality, unsanitary conditions, and pandemics. One of the biggest stains in the city's past was the spectacle of public executions, attended by throngs. Thousands, including the old and the very young, reveled in a carnival-like atmosphere. This book narrates the history of the executions--hangings, and during the Civil War also firing squads--that formed a large part of Richmond's entertainment picture. Revulsion slowly mounted until the introduction of the electric chair. The history has a cast of unusual characters--the condemned, the crime victims, family members, the executioners, and not least an 182 pound "gallows" dog.

Before 1850, all legal executions in the South were performed before crowds that could number in the thousands; the last legal public execution was in 1936. This study focuses on the shift from public executions to ones behind barriers, situating that change within our understandings of lynching and competing visions of justice and religion. Intended to shame and intimidate, public executions after the Civil War had quite a different effect on southern Black communities. Crowds typically consisting of as many Black people as white behaved like congregations before a macabre pulpit, led in prayer and song by a Black minister on the scaffold. Black criminals often proclaimed their innocence and almost always their salvation. This turned the proceedings into public, mixed-race, and mixed-gender celebrations of Black religious authority and devotion. In response, southern states rewrote their laws to eliminate these crowds and this Black authority, ultimately turning to electrocutions in the bowels of state penitentiaries. As a wave of lynchings crested around the turn of the twentieth century, states transformed the ways that the South's white-dominated governments controlled legal capital punishment, making executions into private affairs witnessed only by white people.

Author Brian Burns traces the history of the River City as it marched toward a new century. In the aftermath of the Civil War, Richmond entered the Gilded Age seeking bright prospects while struggling with its own past. It was an era marked by great technological change and ideological strife. During a labor convention in conservative Richmond, white supremacists prepared to enforce segregation at gunpoint. Progressives attempted to gain political power by unveiling a wondrous new marvel: Richmond's first electric streetcar. And handsome lawyer Thomas J. Cluverius was accused of murdering a pregnant woman and dumping her body in the city reservoir, sparking Richmond's trial of the century.

A brilliant example of public history, Death and Rebirth in a Southern City reveals how cemeteries can frame changes in politics and society across time.

From the author of Unlikely Allies and Indivisible comes the remarkable story of John Marshall who, as chief justice, statesman, and diplomat, played a pivotal role in the founding of the United States. No member of America's Founding Generation had a greater impact on the Constitution and the Supreme Court than John Marshall, and no one did more to preserve the delicate unity of the fledgling United States. From the nation's founding in 1776 and for the next forty years, Marshall was at the center of every political battle. As Chief Justice of the United States—the longest-serving in history—he established the independence of the judiciary and the supremacy of the federal Constitution and courts. As the leading Federalist in Virginia, he rivaled his cousin Thomas Jefferson in influence. As a diplomat and secretary of state, he defended American sovereignty against France and Britain, counseled President John Adams, and supervised the construction of the city of Washington. D.C. This is the astonishing true story of how a rough-cut frontiersman⁠—born in Virginia in 1755 and with little formal education—invented himself as one of the nation's preeminent lawyers and politicians who then reinvented the Constitution to forge a stronger nation. Without Precedent is the engrossing account of the life and times of this exceptional man, who with cunning, imagination, and grace shaped America's future as he held together the Supreme Court, the Constitution, and the country itself.

In 1908, at the height of Jim Crow, Virginia switched from public hanging at local gallows to the electric chair in the basement of the State Penitentiary in Richmond. The change was as much a victory for progressive reformers, who desired a more humane form of capital punishment, as for segregationists, who wanted to stop large crowds of Blacks from congregating and praying in public, and prevent condemned prisoners from being considered martyrs on their way to "the promised land." Simply, it put White males more in control over the lives - and now deaths - of Black citizens. Virginia used the electric chair as a form of legal lynching, railroading mostly young, Black males through mob accusations, minutes-long sham trials, convictions and speedy electrocutions, sometimes with no legal counsel and for such nonsense crimes as scaring a white school girl. With the execution process now a secret, however, the Legislature and the Richmond press agreed that capital punishment and lynching began serving the same purpose -- "to inspire terror in the heart of the superstitious African." These are the true stories of the first 99 men and one woman executed in Virginia's brand new electric chair.