Invisible Generals: Rediscovering Family Legacy, and a Quest to Honor America's First Black Generals - Hardcover

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Doug Melville is one of the most innovative voices in diversity, equity, and inclusion, with over a decade of experience. Most recently he was the global head of diversity and inclusion at Richemont, one of the world’s leading luxury goods companies. Previously, Melville worked on Madison Avenue advising clients—including Apple, Airbnb, PepsiCo, Nissan, and more—on inclusive ad campaigns and communication strategies. He has also lectured at Stanford University, Georgetown University, and Harvard University. His first book, Invisible Generals, was released on Veterans Day 2023. Find out more at DougMelville.com.

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Chapter One: Generational Collateral

ONE Generational Collateral

Our lives are the receipts of our ancestors’ journeys—their experiences, investments, relationships, joy, pain, and tragedies.

No one could’ve anticipated how frigid it would be on March 4, 1873, the day President Ulysses S. Grant was sworn in for his second term. It was the coldest March inauguration on record, and everyone attending was likely bundled up and bracing against the negative windchill. As Grant rode in his custom presidential carriage to the White House, alongside him sat Louis P. H. Davis.

I first learned about Louis Davis from my dad. When I asked other family members about him, I repeatedly heard that his significance could be traced to his purchase of a home in Washington, DC, which would become a launching pad for future generations’ success. Ben Jr., Louis’s grandson, wrote in his memoir:

Louis Patrick Henry Davis, my father’s father, had spent his boyhood as a servant in the home of Gen. and Mrs. John A. Logan. General Logan, who later became a U.S. representative and a U.S. senator from Illinois, had participated actively in the effort to impeach President Andrew Johnson. My grandfather favorably impressed the Logan family and gradually became their son’s companion. Later, as General Logan’s protégé, he worked in the Interior Department. He thus gained a measure of economic security and was able to purchase a home at 1830 11th Street NW, where I was born.1

Even if you’re unfamiliar with Major General Logan, you may know some of the landmarks that bear his name: Logan Airport in Boston, Logan Square in Chicago, and Logan Circle in DC. He was a Civil War hero of the Union Army and became a close friend of Ulysses S. Grant, who had commanded the Union Army. After Logan retired from the military, he entered politics. Between Logan’s military prowess, renown, political swagger, and friendship with the president, he was an extremely powerful person and indispensable ally to have—particularly for a Black family in that era.

The record is unclear on when or how Louis became Logan’s servant. The term “servant” can mean many different things in a modern context, with both positive and negative connotations. Back then, it meant that the livelihood, accommodations, and tasks were solely determined by the provider. But as a servant, Louis was welcomed into the Logans’ home and paid for his labor. He was obviously well thought of and trusted, because he became the companion of Logan’s son, John A. Logan II, and was tasked with overseeing Grant’s son on occasion as well. So it was noteworthy, but no shock, that Louis accompanied the younger Logan in the carriage during Grant’s second inauguration.

Perhaps in appreciation for Louis’s years of faithful service, General Logan used his connections to secure a job for Louis in the Department of the Interior. As an assistant messenger for the Office of the Commissioner of Internal Revenue, he earned a salary of $720 a year (equivalent to about $22,000 today). Once he was gainfully employed, he felt confident enough to start a family of his own. He wed Henrietta Stewart on July 7, 1875, and the newlyweds lived in a six-room brick house near Howard University. In 1878, they moved to another home nearby. Over the years they had three children. On May 28, 1880, the youngest boy, Benjamin Oliver “Ollie” Davis was born.2

Louis began making moves into DC’s Black middle-class society. In the early 1880s he received a promotion to head messenger in the Office of the Assistant Attorney General, with an annual salary of $840 (around $25,000 today). Henrietta worked as a nurse, and in 1893, the dual income helped the Davises become one of the few Black families in the city to purchase their own home. With General Logan’s help, they purchased 1830 11th Street NW—a move that firmly cemented their middle-class status. The Davises owned that home for forty years, and it served as both the launching and landing pad for their family. It allowed them to send their children to school, and it provided financial, and thus familial, stability.

Even though the Davises were progressing, life after the end of Reconstruction proved increasingly difficult for Blacks, especially in the American South. Legal and social pressures, as well as threats of violence, limited Blacks’ opportunities. Public accommodations became segregated along racial lines, including in DC. It’s important to recognize that the main reason for Louis Davis’s exceptional ability to navigate these turbulent waters and accomplish things many Blacks could not imagine during that time—secure a public-service job, acquire real estate, and become upwardly mobile—was because of his powerful ally General Logan.

All these years later, I find it remarkable to contemplate how long my family’s influence—over 150 years and across a dozen presidential administrations—can be traced back through America’s history. This knowledge places me in a position of confidence in America, a country where a Black person’s citizenship is so often made to feel more like a privilege than a right. We’ve earned our right to be here as much as any other group.

During Louis’s post–Civil War lifetime, America was in a chaotic state that made many Blacks’ lives precarious. However, his story highlighted something meaningful to me: not all Black families in the early 1900s were destitute, uneducated, and unemployable. That was the impression I’d gotten from media portrayals of Blacks in post–Civil War America. And Black successes in this era weren’t something I was ever taught in school.

Learning his story was evidence that there were beautiful moments where American families of all races could have allies and support, have people looking out for them. People who were similarly pursuing the American dream.

I imagine what it must have been like to consider yourself an American family, yet at every turn, you’re reminded that you are Black—a permanent scarlet letter relentlessly bringing to mind that society considers you less than everyone else. And I think about how self-assured you would have to be in that environment, to raise your family with your head up, with dignity, in a country that your family helped build.

Yet Louis wasn’t ashamed or afraid to ask for assistance when he needed it, including from people like General Logan. For Louis to get where he wanted to go in life—and to maneuver his children even further down the path—he probably didn’t have the luxury of turning down support from powerful allies. The instinct for survival can result in strange bedfellows. Louis likely recognized the inherent unfairness of the world around him, but he also recognized that he had to shape that world to his own needs in order to achieve his goals. While he couldn’t reverse or erase centuries of racism and negativity, he could try to make amends in his own way by living an honorable life.

Louis learned the value of the mentor-mentee relationship—the exchange of expertise and enthusiasm for a common good. These rules of engagement are timeless in their effectiveness. Even as a DEI leader today, these principles are the building blocks for good politics. I can be sitting...