Matt Reimann | Timeline
Zachariah Walker screamed before the mob threw him into the fire. Walker, a black iron worker from the South, was already bloodied from a recent surgery that removed a bullet from his jaw, and was agonized by the experience of being dragged hundreds of feet from his hospital bed to a field where a fire had been built by a white mob. “For God’s sake, give a man a chance!” Walker yelled. It did not matter. They threw him in.
The lynching of Zachariah Walker happened in the bustling steel town of Coatesville, Pennsylvania, on the night of August 13th, 1911. At the time, Coatesville was enjoying newfound prosperity. The steel mills were booming, and to meet growing production demands, they needed workers.
For the most part, this need was filled by European immigrants and blacks from the South. Walker, a lever-puller for the Worth Brothers Steel Company, left his wife and children behind in Virginia for the new position. He settled in a town of shacks on a bluff overlooking Coatesville proper, where he lived alongside other black and immigrant laborers.
The new influx of workers signified to Coatesville a growing prosperity, but it also coincided with a perceived loss of social and communal harmony. The borough of 11,000 fixated on its demographic shifts (an 87 percent native white population decreased to 73 percent in a decade), and increasing instances of crime, gambling, drunkenness, concealed firearms, and fighting disturbed residents.
Residents of Coatesville grew especially weary of pay weekends, when relieved mill workers became intoxicated revelers. These workers blew off steam in even less savory ways, clogging up Main Street and stressing the town’s six-man police force.
OnSaturday, August 12, a somewhat drunken Zachariah Walker was crossing a bridge on the way home when he saw two Polish workers. Walker, confessing he was “feeling pretty good,” decided on a wicked idea of a prank. He took out his revolver from his person, and fired two shots over their heads. They ran away in terror.
Edgar Rice was working security for the mill that night when he heard the gunshots. He was beloved in Coatesville. An affable, portly man, he was known for his compassionate patrolling, often escorting drunk workers home, rather than having them arrested.
Rice confronted the drunken Walker, who would later recall getting “a little sassy.” Eventually Rice grew tired of the hassle and told him, “If you don’t come with me, I will hit you over the head with this club.”
A tussle, then a panic ensued. Walker soon believed the fight was escalating to lethal ends. Rice took out his revolver, as did Walker, who shot the police officer two or three times and fled the scene. In a few hours, Edgar Rice was dead.
Walker went on the run. Though no one saw the incident unfold, the two Poles provided a link to the culprit. Search parties looked all through the night, when the next morning a boy on his way to collect eggs saw Walker in a barn.
Two men were notified and they confronted Walker. They were unarmed, and Walker struck one down with a blow. He took his revolver out and pressed it to his chest, pulling the trigger. Luckily for the man the gun had jammed. Walker ran on.
A sheriff’s posse finally found Walker in the woods, where he was hiding in a cherry tree. The searchers pointed their guns at Walker, who, knowing his fate, decided to end his life himself. Walker raised his revolver to his temple and fired. He missed, the bullet going from his ear to his jaw. He fell to the foot of the tree. His suicide attempt failed. He was injured and unconscious, but alive.
