Pandit Mehar (P.M.) Chand Materials

Collection Overview

Date Range: 1920s and 1930s
Language(s): English (4), Uncategorized (1)
Number of Items: 5
Item Types: Newspaper Clipping (2), Correspondence (2), Photograph (1)
Donor(s): Daniel E. Chand

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About the Collection

Collection Description
Contributed to SAADA by Daniel E. Chand.

Biographical History
In an article for the Beaumont Enterprise (August 27, 2023), Daniel E. Chand (Pandit Mehar Chand's grandson) provided context on his grandfather's story:

Five years ago on Aug. 26, 2017, Hurricane Harvey struck my Lumberton hometown. My parents returned to their home two days after the hurricane initially made landfall, thinking the worst of the storm passed.

Little did they know that days of nonstop rain would cause a flash flood, forcing them to be emergency rescued in the middle of the night. With my parents temporarily housed in a local shelter, I flew to Texas to salvage what could be saved from my childhood home. In the process, I discovered a document that forced me to grapple with my heritage. For the next several years, I found myself traveling across the country, combing through 100-year-old newspaper articles and government records to uncover the story behind that piece of paper.

This is what I found:

An Immigrant’s Story

As a social scientist at an Ohio university, I’ve spent my career studying U.S. immigration policy. My work consists of collecting data, analyzing and predicting trends in immigration enforcement -- very impersonal.

After Harvey, however, I was presented with a personal immigrant story. It involved my grandfather, Pandit Mehar Chand (P.M.), one of the first Indians to move to Texas.

At 17 years old, P.M.’s mother passed away. Shortly afterward, he decided to leave India – something that was frowned upon within the Hindu faith. A missionary visited his village school and convinced him there was a young country unlike anywhere else.

Nathu Ram informed young P.M. that no such land existed and forbade his leaving. Over the next several months, however, P.M.’s persistence, or annoyance from his father’s perspective, paid off.

Supported by his father’s financial assistance and a job as a correspondent for Indian state-run newspapers reporting on the conditions of Indians worldwide, P.M. explored countries like Italy, Argentina, Chile, Barbados and Jamaica. He spent eight months reporting on sugar cane farming in Cuba.

Throughout his travels, P.M. gained knowledge and developed a small following back home. However, his eagerness to witness the land that ignited his adventure grew. After 22 months traveling, in November 1913, P.M. finally set foot in the United States at Tampa, Florida, realizing his dream of witnessing America.

The collaboration between P.M. and his father remained beneficial over the next two years. Nathu Ram supported P.M.'s travels across the U.S. and Canada, as he continued his reporting. Pleased with his son's work, Nathu Ram foresaw a promising future for P.M. in government service.

Pioneering Punjabi

P.M.’s reporting on Indian farmworkers took him to El Centro, California. The Imperial Valley in California was home to a large population of Punjabi Indians, who had settled there for agricultural work, particularly in the cotton fields. They were known as the “Pioneering Punjabi” and constituted the largest Indian population in the U.S. at the time.

Life in the Imperial Valley was harsh for P.M. and his fellow Punjabis. They endured grueling and dangerous work in the scorching California sun, living in cramped shanties without air conditioning. Many Indian farmers died dealing with difficult conditions, often exploited by absentee white landowners.

These Punjabis were paid poorly, even less than other Asians, which fueled resentment among white workers who saw them as economic threats. Discrimination against Indians was common, and California’s Alien Land Act (1913) prevented them from owning or leasing land, forcing them into sharecropping arrangements.

P.M. soon realized that his vision of the United States was far from reality. Xenophobia was rampant, particularly against Asians settling in western states for agricultural labor. Indians were often misrepresented in newspapers, with derogatory terms such as “Hindoos” being used to label all Indians, despite the majority being Sikhs and Muslims. Anti-immigrant sentiments were fueled by the Asiatic Exclusion League, which organized protests and lobbied for restrictions against Asians.

In 1907, the AEL orchestrated an anti-Asian march that escalated into the Bellingham race riot in Washington. Indians were targeted, assaulted and robbed by white rioters. The media downplayed the severity of the riot, depicting it as a comical protest.

Facing xenophobic violence, P.M. eventually left the west after four years of his self-described “cotton experiment,” heading east to Beaumont, Texas.

Gone to Texas

P.M. left California with a friend and fellow Punjabi, Kayaun Sing, or “K.S. Joe.” They headed east to Beaumont, then a booming town. Unlike the west coast, Beaumont had few Asians and no Indians before the arrival of P.M. and K.S. Joe. This is not to say that Beaumont was a small town. The Spindletop gusher of 1901 and a growing rice industry had turned Beaumont into Texas’s sixth most populated city, larger even than Austin.

Life was still difficult but slightly improved in Beaumont, compared to California. P.M. purchased farmland near the city, growing rice and working as a nightwatchman in the evenings. Beaumont may have been just another temporary stop, had it not been for cupid’s bow.

In 1918, P.M.'s life took an unexpected turn. Walking past a photography studio, he caught sight of a captivating young woman with dark skin and eyes waiting to have her picture taken. Her name was Eulalia "Lola" Torres, an immigrant from Torreón, Mexico. The details of their first encounter remain a mystery, but one thing is certain. P.M. was instantly smitten.

The extension of the Mexican Central Railway to Ciudad Juárez in 1905 provided a direct connection between central Mexico and the United States. The railway, along with the burgeoning Mexican Revolution, led to a wave of Mexican immigration. El Paso became a popular crossing point, and Lola’s parents seized the opportunity for a better life. With a new-born Lola in hand, they crossed the Juárez-El Paso border in search of new opportunities.

Punjabi-Mexican Marriage

An Indian Hindu and Mexican Catholic -- it may sound unusual, and it was certainly a one-of-a-kind union in Beaumont. However, from a legal standpoint, it was a perfect match. Most southern and western states, Texas included, had anti-miscegenation laws “protecting” white women from the “Yellow Peril” of marrying Asian men.

Coupled with the fact that the federal government banned additional immigration from India in 1917, the nation’s roughly 13,000 Indians in the U.S. at the time were in a precarious situation. The vast majority were men. Unable to leave and return, and with no way for Asian women to come, dating prospects were bleak.

However, most county clerks issuing marriage licenses considered Latinas “brown,” like Indians. These partnerships made sense on various levels. Latinas faced similar discrimination and also worked as agricultural laborers. The Imperial Valley, where P.M. had just lived, witnessed the highest concentration of these Punjabi-Mexican unions. Plus, because Latinas were not prohibited from owning land, Indian men in Punjabi-Mexican marriages could farm on their own property.

These unions soon extended to other southwest states.

Although the state of Texas may have approved of the relationship, P.M.’s father did not. Indian marriages were traditionally arranged, but P.M. chose to follow his heart. Nathu Ram threatened to cut off financial support if P.M. married Lola, but P.M. ignored the warning. They married on Feb. 15, 1919, welcoming their first child nine months later.

The Klan in Beaumont

With limited savings from his farming endeavors and no support from Nathu Ram, P.M. realized he needed to increase his income to support his growing family. In October 1921, he and K.S. Joe purchased a small grocery store in Beaumont’s black community on Crockett Street. Although the store was not a resounding success, it gained a loyal clientele within the community.

However, the 1920s brought forth a menacing force that threatened their happiness in Beaumont. A group emerged that surpassed the terroristic actions of the AEL on the Pacific west coast. The Ku Klux Klan established its local office in Beaumont in 1921. The resurgence of the Klan during the 1920s was driven by a mix of long-standing racism against black Americans and nativism, particularly against non-white immigrants.

While many are aware of the Klan’s acts of terrorism, few realize just how politically influential and well-connected they once were, particularly in cities like Beaumont. Notably, Beaumont Police Chief B.B. Johnson and the Jefferson County Sheriff Tom Heslp Garner were both former Klan members. Garner faced removal from office in May 1922 due to his Klan affiliation. The Klan had been involved in violent attacks, including tar and feathering incidents, in Beaumont.

The Beaumont Klan openly admitted their involvement in these incidents by sending letters to the press. Johnson and the Exalted Cyclops of the Beaumont Klan A.D. Ellis testified in Garner’s defense, claiming they had never seen him at Klan meetings.

However, Johnson’s own Klan affiliation was revealed during the trial, leading to his removal as police chief, although still remaining on the force. Eventually, Garner admitted his former Klan membership in court, resulting in his conviction and removal as sheriff.

Yet his removal was short-lived, as his supporters organized a rally with 25,000 attendees, denouncing his conviction as a conspiracy. His conviction was later overturned by a higher court, and he was reinstated as sheriff. In the November 1922 elections, all Klan-endorsed candidates for Jefferson County offices, including Garner, won election.

Days after the election, the Klan paraded through downtown Beaumont, passing directly in front of P.M.’s store. More than 50,000 spectators turned out to watch.

Brown is not White

Despite the challenges, P.M. made the decision, with his family, to stay in Beaumont. Lola had spent most of her life there and had a support network, including her mother, stepfather and sisters. Although Lola faced backlash for marrying outside her race and religion, her family supported their relationship.

Beaumont had a small population of Mexicans and Chicanos, and Lola’s family was integrated into the local Latino community. P.M., with no such support system except for K.S. Joe, believed that people would recognize the sacrifices he made to be in the United States and that his presence would not bring harm to his family. Leaving the country would mean saying goodbye to his wife and children permanently, since his non-Indian wife and mixed-race children would not be accepted in India.

Given his circumstances, P.M. chose to apply for U.S. citizenship in 1922. Applying for citizenship is challenging even today. Many individuals hire immigration attorneys to navigate the process. P.M., lacking the funds for a lawyer, had to navigate the complex process on his own, with limited English skills.

The challenges faced by P.M. were exacerbated by the historical context in the early 1900s. Whiteness has long been the standard for measuring authentic Americanism.

Early U.S. citizenship laws explicitly restricted citizenship to “free white persons,” sparking the question of whether Asians counted as white. Determining whiteness was a subjective matter, with judges resorting to absurd methods such as examining and individual’s arms to see if the blue of one’s veins can be made out through the skin.

Despite these obstacles, 69 Indians managed to secure U.S. citizenship before a February 1923 Supreme Court ruling in U.S. v. Bhagat Singh Thind, which declared that Indians are not white. The ruling even stripped citizenship for the few Indians who received it and their spouses.

It was particularly devastating for P.M., whose application was promptly rejected shortly after the ruling.

Arrest

Shortly after applying for citizenship, P.M. received the shock of his life when law enforcement officers arrived at his store to arrest him and K.S. Joe. They were charged, along with three Black men already in jail, with participating in an interstate conspiracy to sell cigarettes stolen from railcars.

The men were charged with federal crimes due to the alleged thefts occurring across state lines. Federal criminal prosecutions were highly uncommon at that time, except for prohibition-related cases. Additionally, the then-U.S. Attorney for the Eastern District of Texas, Randolph Bryant, took an unusually active role in prosecuting the case.

It was also peculiar that the only evidence against P.M., K.S. Joe and two of the other men was a confession by the youngest defendant -- 19-year-old Henry Pipkin, which he later recanted.

Pipkin was initially arrested at only 18-years old, when law enforcement officers claimed he “approached” an area where goods stolen from a separate boxcar where hidden. Although police acknowledge he “had not touched the goods and disclaimed any knowledge” of them, he was arrested and prosecuted in Jefferson County for state crimes. He had no attorney. This was the era before public defenders and the Supreme Court-recognized right to an attorney if you cannot afford one.

Despite all the odds against him, he was acquitted of the charges. Yet, after his acquittal, Pipkin was arrested again – but this time charged in federal court. Again, this was before the Supreme Court incorporated the protection against double jeopardy (being charged twice for the same crime). Held without bail for eight months before his trial, Pipkin begged to be released until the trial to no avail.

Pipkin spent his 19th birthday in jail after being acquitted of the charges originally brought against him. While waiting in jail to be charged for the same offences in federal court, he signed a confession presented to him that implicated P.M., K.S. Joe, and the two other men. The confession described a scheme in which K.S. Joe and the other three men broke into boxcars and transported the goods. P.M.’s alleged role was to sell the goods in his store.

When the case went to trial, Pipkin immediately objected when his confession was presented into evidence. He took the stand, stating he only signed the confession after being physically assaulted by an officer. The other two Black men arrested also said the same officer threatened them to try to get them to sign a confession.

On April 27, 1923, the all-white male jury announced the verdict. Joe and the other three men were sentenced to four to seven years, for officially stealing and transporting six cartons of cigarettes. P.M. was found guilty of possession and sentenced to two years in Fort Leavenworth Penitentiary.

A “Pathetic Appeal”

P.M., overwhelmed with the fear of being separated from his family, found himself in a vulnerable position. He resorted to begging, pleading for leniency before Judge William Lee Estes, who gave indications he believed in P.M.’s innocence. Estes changed the sentence to a $1,500 fine or two years in confinement if P.M. could not pay the fine. Realizing P.M.’s inability to pay, he then lowered it to $1,000. P.M. expressed his defeat, stating he could only afford $500.

Estes met with the prosecution, then called P.M. to the bench to tell him, “There is something very pathetic about your case.” Estes showed sympathy, reducing the fine to $500. P.M. managed to arrange for the payment through a local banker, who just happened to be in the courtroom awaiting another case. The fine depleted his bank account but kept his family together.

K.S. Joe faced a harsher fate, receiving four years and subsequent deportation after his release. Amidst the stress, financial burden1 and losing his friend and business partner, P.M. had to endure the public humiliation of being convicted of a federal crime.

The Beaumont Enterprise front page announced the verdict with the following headline:

“Hindu Talks U.S. Judge Out of Prison Sentence in Box Car Robbery Case:

Pathetic appeal for wife and Babies Here in Strange Country Wins; Other 4 get Pen Terms.”

The following day’s headline revealed the rising influence of the Klan in Beaumont, with over 4,500 members reported. P.M.’s struggle for justice and the consequences faced by his co-defendants exposes the injustices within the legal system and the racial tensions prevailing in Beaumont during that time.

Deportation

P.M. tried to move on after the trial. In 1926, he traveled to India at his father’s request. During the visit, he met with Mahatma Gandhi, who himself had just recently been released from prison for protesting British colonial rule. P.M., an unwavering supporter of Indian independence from Great Britain, discussed the lives of Indians in the U.S. with India’s great civil rights leader.

However, the primary purpose of the trip was to meet with his father, Nathu Ram, who tried to persuade him to move back. P.M. ultimately elected to return to the U.S.

Facing financial difficulties at the start of the Great Depression, P.M. sold his grocery store and moved to a small farm. Tragedy struck in 1933 when his 7-year-old daughter drowned one summer evening.

P.M.’s financial situation improved by 1935, when he purchased a new grocery store in Beaumont. He actively participated in the local community, speaking against bigotry when necessary. Despite remaining an observant Hindu, he participated in a Sunday school men’s Bible reading group, where he educated Christian men about his faith. Between his store, the small farm and his community engagement, more Beaumont residents were getting to know P.M. and coming to respect him.

In 1936, he learned of his father’s illness and arranged a visit to India, spurring the Sunday Enterprise to run a feature article about Beaumont’s only Indian.

Shortly after the feature article appeared in print, P.M. received a troubling message from the Immigration Naturalization Service. He was to be deported based on his conviction for the cigarette conspiracy – 13 years earlier.

P.M. was bewildered by the reemergence of a past incident he believed was resolved. This situation resonates with countless immigrants, who have faced similar uncertainties regarding their residential status in the United States.

Charged with possessing stolen cigarettes that had crossed state lines, he was convicted in federal court, rendering him susceptible to deportation. He maintained his innocence but accepted the imposed fine and assumed the matter was behind him.

However, as a non-U.S. citizen even minor offenses could lead to deportation. Anti-immigration sentiment was prevalent during the Great Depression, and the economic hardship and heightened opposition to immigration likely played a role in him being reported to the INS.

Seeking assistance, P.M. reached out to Beaumont U.S. Congressman Martin Dies, who secured him a few extra months to settle his affairs before departure. P.M. recognized the challenges his mixed-race American-born children would face in India and made arrangements for them to stay in the United States under the care of his brother-in-law.

Unconditional Pardon

In September 2017, standing in my parents’ destroyed home, my father handed me an old water-stained document. I was overwhelmed with a deep sense of connection to my family’s history as I read it:

“Now, therefore, be it known, that I, Franklin D. Roosevelt, President of the United States of America… do hereby grant unto the said Pandit Mehar Chand a full and unconditional pardon.”

The journey of my grandfather and the challenges he faced as an immigrant in the United States became vividly real to me. I realized the subject I’ve been studying for years, the numbers I analyzed, had a personal resonance that I had never fully appreciated.

While Beaumont’s xenophobic past made P.M. a target, now the compassion of others worked to save him. Numerous community members submitted letters in support of his pardon, testifying to his character and describing his case as a “miscarriage of justice.”

The new Beaumont Police Chief and Jefferson County Sheriff, replacing the Klan-affiliated officers at the time of the trial, both submitted letters, saying they believed P.M. was innocent. Other writers included the principal of his children’s school and members of his Bible study group. The stenographer from P.M.’s trial wrote that he believed P.M. was “not guilty” but that his struggle with English contributed to his conviction. Others too cited P.M.’s language troubles and the prevalence of racism in the area as factors in his conviction.

Surprisingly, even the former U.S. Attorney who prosecuted P.M.’s case, Randolph Bryant, who was now a U.S. Judge for the very federal court where P.M. was prosecuted, provided a letter now stating he questioned P.M.’s guilt.

Harvey, with its destructive force, had torn through my parents’ home, leaving behind devastation. Yet amid the chaos, my father clung to a piece of paper, preserving a piece of our family’s past that had shaped my present.

This pardon was not merely a legal document. It represented hope and resilience. It symbolized the power of compassion and the recognition that deportation would have inflicted undue hardship on my grandfather’s family. Roosevelt’s act of mercy allowed my family to stay together, to build a life in this country, and to lay the foundation for the generations that would follow.

As I stared at the words on that fragile piece of paper, I felt a profound appreciation for the sacrifices my grandparents had made and the opportunities they had pursued. Their stories were woven into the fabric of my identity, shaping who I had become. The realization of this heritage stirred a mix of emotions within me.

My family’s journey had brought me to this realization, and it was a transformative moment that would guide me on a new path, one that merged my personal narrative with my professional aspirations.

As I carefully transported the document back to Ohio, I carried the weight of my family’s past. The pardon now sits in my office, propelling me forward with a renewed purpose and a commitment to shaping a more compassionate and inclusive immigration system.


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