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Crews removed the statue of Jefferson Davis, the president of the Confederate States of America during the Civil War, around 3 a.m. and under a heavy police presence. Credit Credit... Jonathan Bachman/Reuters

Workers in New Orleans in the early hours of Thursday took down a statue of Jefferson Davis, the president of the Confederate States of America during the Civil War. It was the second of four such statues or monuments targeted for removal as city officials seek to erase the vestiges of an era that celebrated white supremacy and racism.

Crews, wearing masks to cover their faces, worked under a heavy police presence starting at 3 a.m. to dismantle the statue, which was erected in 1911, nearly 50 years after the end of the war, and commissioned by the Jefferson Davis Memorial Association.

It was removed from its pedestal by crane and loaded onto a trailer to be crated and stored at an undisclosed city warehouse, Tyronne B. Walker, a city spokesman, said in an email on Thursday.

"The city is in the process of determining a more appropriate place to display the statues post-removal, such as a museum or other site, where they can be placed in their proper historical context from a dark period of American history," he wrote.

He said the law enforcement officials took extra precautions because of "consistent threats, harassment and intimidation tactics" surrounding the removal.

Some protesters carrying Confederate flags shouted "cowards" and "totalitarianism" as it was removed, The Times-Picayune reported.

Removing the remaining statues requires the use of a heavy crane, and the mayor had told The Times-Picayune that every crane company in the region had received threats.

Other works expected to be removed are a bronze statue of Gen. Robert E. Lee that has stood in a traffic circle, named Lee Circle, in the city's central business district since 1884, and an equestrian statue of P.G.T. Beauregard, a Confederate general. Because of the threat of violence, the city would not release details on the timeline for when the remaining two statues would be removed.

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Protesters gathered as the statue was removed. Credit... Jonathan Bachman/Reuters

Workers last month dismantled an obelisk that was erected in 1891 to honor members of the Crescent City White League who in 1874 fought in the Reconstruction-era Battle of Liberty Place against the racially integrated New Orleans police and state militia.

Mayor Mitch Landrieu said in a statement on Thursday: "These monuments have stood not as historic or educational markers of our legacy of slavery and segregation, but in celebration of it. I believe we must remember all of our history, but we need not revere it. To literally put the Confederacy on a pedestal in some of our most prominent public places is not only an inaccurate reflection of our past, it is an affront to our present, and a bad prescription for our future."

No final decision has been made about what will replace the Confederate monuments, Mr. Walker wrote.

The debate over Confederate symbols has taken center stage since nine people were killed at a black church in South Carolina in June 2015. South Carolina removed the Confederate battle flag, which flew at its State House for more than 50 years, and other Southern cities have considered taking down monuments.

In December 2015, the City Council voted 6 to 1 to remove the statues. In January 2016, a federal judge dismissed an attempt by preservation groups and a chapter of the Sons of Confederate Veterans to keep them.

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Jefferson Davis Statue in New Orleans Is Removed

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Workers in New Orleans in the early hours of Thursday took down a statue of Jefferson Davis, the president of the Confederate States of America during the Civil War. It was the second of four such statues or monuments targeted for removal as city officials seek to erase the vestiges of an era that celebrated white supremacy and racism.

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Erasing history?: The debate over Confederate monuments

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DURHAM, N.C. (AP) - A crumpled Confederate statue that was damaged when protesters toppled it would go back on display inside a historic courthouse under the latest proposal by North Carolina officials to deal with monuments increasingly decried by protesters as racist symbols.

A Durham city-county government committee proposed Tuesday to move the statue indoors from the building's grounds and leave unrepaired the damage that includes a crumpled head, bent legs and a twisted rifle. The county Board of Commissioners would have to approve the plan.

"It is just not salvageable, but it is a historical artifact of the times when it was created, and in its current state, is a historical artifact of how it came down. It has additional meaning in other words in its current state," said Robin Kirk, who co-chaired the study committee.

The proposal - which was denounced by a Confederate descendants' group - is the latest move in an ongoing debate about what to do with North Carolina's many Confederate monuments on public property. Another statue was toppled at the state's flagship public university in 2018, and Winston-Salem city officials recently called for a downtown statue there to be moved. North Carolina is among three Southern states with the most Confederate markers on public land. A North Carolina tally shows that around 50 of them stand at contemporary or historic courthouses.

Critics argue many Confederate statues were built decades after the Civil War to promote white supremacy. Supporters counter that the monuments are simply memorials to ancestors who fought and died protecting their homes.

The Durham statue was torn down in 2017 by protesters reacting to a deadly white nationalist rally in Charlottesville, Virginia. One protester climbed a ladder to attach a rope while others on the ground yanked it down. The bronze likeness of an anonymous uniformed soldier had stood since 1924 in front of the historic courthouse that now holds Durham County offices. It's currently in storage.

Authorities initially charged 12 protesters with toppling the statue, but none were convicted. A judge dismissed two cases and acquitted a third defendant, and the prosecutor dropped charges against the others.

Tuesday's proposal calls for placing the statue in a hallway of the old courthouse with written passages to contextualize it. Noting an indoor location would be more secure, the committee recommended somewhere accessible to the public, but out of the way so people who could avoid it if they wished. Additional outdoor markers honoring Union soldiers and enslaved people would be added to the still-standing granite pedestal that once held the statue.

The North Carolina chapter of the Sons of Confederate Veterans issued a statement arguing that state law requires the statue to be repaired and restored. The group contends that under the plan, "the crumpled metal, like some kind of perverse trophy for illegal behavior, will be 'contextualized' with historical inaccuracies and lies about its meaning and origin."

The Durham proposal came a day after a Winston-Salem city council meeting where residents spoke in favor of moving a Confederate statue away from an old courthouse building that's now privately owned. Winston-Salem officials recently told the United Daughters of the Confederacy to move the statue or risk legal action.

Meanwhile, the board that oversees the state's public university system is debating the fate of a Confederate statue torn down by protesters last year at the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill. Campus trustees had proposed spending $5 million on a history center to house the statue, but that plan was rejected late last year.

Such efforts are complicated by a 2015 state monuments law that largely prohibits moving Confederate monuments on public land, except in narrow circumstances.

The Durham committee consulted with lawyers and noted the law doesn't include specific requirements for damaged monuments. Still, panel co-chair Charmaine McKissick-Melton told reporters that keeping the statue at the old courthouse honors the law.

"It's in the same building and destination. We thought that was close enough," she said.

A protester acquitted of helping tear down the Durham statue - but now charged in the UNC toppling - attended Tuesday's meeting and dismissed the new proposal as an attempt to appease pro-Confederate groups.

"That statue should be thrown in the trash," said Raul Jimenez.

___

Follow Drew at www.twitter.com/JonathanLDrew

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County: Put crumpled Confederate statue in indoor display

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DURHAM, N.C. (AP) - A crumpled Confederate statue that was damaged when protesters toppled it would go back on display inside a historic courthouse under the latest proposal by North Carolina officials to deal with monuments increasingly decried by protesters as racist symbols.

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Proposal to remove monument

Durham, N.C.

Confederate soldier monument toppled by protesters

Protesters pulled down a statue of a Confederate soldier in front of the Durham County Courthouse in Durham, N.C., on Aug. 14. The statue, which had stood since 1924, was protected by a special law. On Aug. 19, Duke University removed a Robert E. Lee statue from Duke Chapel.

Tampa, Fla.

Confederate statue considered for removal

A Confederate monument in Tampa will only be removed if enough private money is raised, Hillsborough County Commissioners decided on Aug. 16. On Thursday, Tampa's three major sports teams said they would help pay for the monument's removal.

Washington, D.C.

Proposal to remove Confederate statues from U.S. Capitol building, park

Senator Cory Booker of New Jersey tweeted late Aug. 16 that he plans on introducing a bill to remove Confederate statues from the U.S. Capitol building. On Aug. 17, Representative Nancy Pelosi of California, the House Democratic leader, called for the removal of the statues, describing them as "reprehensible." There are at least 12 Confederate statues in the National Statuary Hall Collection of the Capitol building. D.C. officials have called on the National Park Service to remove a statute of Albert Pike, a Confederate general, from a park.

More removed monuments

Ellicott City, Md. "

Confederate memorial removed

Late Monday night, Howard County officials removed a Confederate memorial that had stood outside of a courthouse in Ellicott City, Md. "The more appropriate place for the memorial is in a museum," said Alan H. Kittleman, the county executive, in a post on Facebook.

San Diego "

Plaque honoring Jefferson Davis, president of the Confederacy, removed

The plaque at Horton Plaza Park was removed on Aug. 16. "Monuments to bigotry have no place in San Diego or anywhere!" City Councilor Christopher Ward wrote on Twitter.

St. Petersburg, Fla. "

Plaque honoring Stonewall Jackson removed

A marker honoring the Stonewall Jackson Memorial Highway was taken away on Aug. 15 by city officials who said they did not want it to become a "flashpoint in this national debate."

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Confederate Monuments Are Coming Down Across the United States. Here's a List.

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Proposal to remove monument Confederate soldier monument toppled by protesters Protesters pulled down a statue of a Confederate soldier in front of the Durham County Courthouse in Durham, N.C., on Aug. 14. The statue, which had stood since 1924, was protected by a special law. On Aug.

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A multi-ethnic democracy requires grappling honestly with the past-and recognizing the symbols of the Confederacy for what they are.

Joshua Roberts / Reuters

On Saturday in Charlottesville, a rally in defense of a statue of Robert E. Lee turned into a reenactment of the cause he led-white supremacists marching behind the Confederate battle flag, their opponents left injured or dead on the ground.

But like Lee's soldiers, today's defenders of white supremacy are fighting for a losing cause, a defeat that their violence will only serve to make deeper and more lasting than it otherwise would have been. Across the United States, the statues are starting to topple, the streets renamed, the memorials removed. These visible inscriptions of white supremacy into the American landscape are being erased.

In New Orleans, Mayor Mitch Landrieu recently hauled down three public monuments to the Confederacy and to white supremacy. "These statues were a part of ... terrorism as much as a burning cross on someone's lawn; they were erected purposefully to send a strong message to all who walked in their shadows about who was still in charge in this city," he explained. In Kentucky, the mayor of Lexington responded to Charlottesville by accelerating his efforts to move statues of two Confederate leaders from the courthouse lawn to a public park. This was the rising tide of change that the Charlottesville rally hoped to stem.

As of August 2016, there were still more than 1,500 public commemorations of the Confederacy, even excluding the battlefields and cemeteries: 718 monuments and statutes still stood, and 109 public schools, 80 counties and cities, and 10 U.S. military bases bore the names of Lee, Jefferson Davis, and other Confederate icons, according to a tally by the Southern Poverty Law Center. More than 200 of these were in Virginia alone.

And one sits in the center of Charlottesville. It was commissioned exactly 100 years ago, a gift to the city from a local philanthropist, to honor his parents with a physical incarnation of Southern ideals. But the statue was hardly the only contemporary effort to enshrine and defend these ideals. As it was being commissioned, sculpted, and erected, the second Ku Klux Klan was surging through the country. In Charlottesville, the local Klan gave $1,000 to the University of Virginia's Centennial Endowment Fund in 1921, funds it gratefully received; there was a second Klan chapter for the students on campus.

The statue stands 26-feet tall, despite its oddly small pedestal. "Let it stay that way," urged a speaker at its dedication. "The planet as a pedestal would be too small for Robert Edward Lee." It was unveiled in 1924, as the conventions of the Confederate Veterans and Sons of Confederate Veterans met, with "the greatest procession that ever threaded its way through the streets of Charlottesville." The Boy Scouts policed the route; the National Guard and governor marched; the president, board, faculty, and students of the university joined in. The man who introduced the ceremonies praised the "deathless devotion" of the veterans, who had fought "at Chancellorsville and Gettysburg," and now worked "to keep the record of Confederate heroism free from the stain of calumny!"

It was less a dedication than a canonization. The master of ceremonies called Lee "the greatest man who ever lived." The president of Washington and Lee proclaimed him "a Christian saint." Lee, he explained, embodied "the moral greatness of the Old South," with its "unusual combination of manly courage and womanly tenderness, its habitual tenderness toward the weak and helpless." (When three slaves escaped, Lee had them tied to posts and whipped -50 lashes for the men, 20 for the woman-and then had their backs washed with stinging brine.)

His defenders today insist that Lee's heroism lay not least in his laying down his sword when the war was done, deciding to "promote harmony once he recognized defeat." The speakers at the dedication likewise stressed Lee's role as a peacemaker; one went so far as to imagine the statute depicted "not the lurid splendor of the battlefield," but instead, Lee riding to Lexington to begin his tenure as a university president.

Yet this is not what the statue depicts. Not this one, nor the others. Where are the statues of Lee seated at Appomattox, signing the terms of that surrender? Where are the marbles and bronzes of Lee the college president, wearing civilian clothes, ensconced behind a desk piled high with paperwork? Why is this peacemaker always immortalized girded for war?

Perhaps it's because this, too, is largely myth, as my colleague Adam Serwer has so ably documented. Grant excoriated Lee for "setting an example of forced acquiescence so grudging and pernicious in its effects as to be hardly realized." And the reconciliation he offered was between whites-it pointedly excluded those he had held as property, whose freedom the war secured, but whose equality he bitterly contested.

Lee himself, after the war, encouraged a friend to banish the 90 newly freed women, children, and old men working on his plantation. The government could pay for their care, Lee advised; better to replace them with white labor. "I have always observed that wherever you find the negro, everything is going down around him, and wherever you find a white man, you see everything around him improving." That is the harmony Lee promoted.

But the Lee memorialized in Charlottesville isn't even the conciliator of myth. He's attired in uniform, riding his horse. He's the general who took an invading army north into Pennsylvania in 1863, in defense of a slave society. And not merely in the abstract. Lee's army was ordered to respect white property, but chose to regard the blacks it encountered as contraband-to be seized and returned to the South, whether born free, manumitted, or escaped. The army seized scores of their fellow Americans as slaves, actions sanctioned at the highest level of command; it took as many as a thousand back to Virginia. Those actions are among the "calumnies" that speakers at the statue's dedication praised the veterans of Gettysburg for contesting.

"Some of the colored people who were raised here were taken along," wrote Rachel Cormany in Chambersburg. "I sat on the front step as they were driven by just as we would drive cattle." Women, children, and infants alike were marched off to slavery. Philip Schaff, a prominent theologian, watched as Lee's army seized neighbors born and raised in the town. "One, Sam Brooks, split many a cord of wood for me." He appealed to the conscience of one of their captors; he insisted he felt "comfortable," because they were merely reclaiming stolen property.

Lee's army, retreating in defeat, released some, but most were hauled South to the auction block. For the crime of refusing to cross back to Virginia, one boy was horribly mutilated, doused in turpentine, his genitals sliced off, and left to die in a barn by his Confederate captors. If there is no evidence that Lee, the living embodiment of womanly tenderness, sanctioned such crimes, neither is there evidence he acted to stop them. Nor was the Gettysburg campaign an anomaly; slave raids were a persistent feature of Confederate campaigns out of Virginia. At the Battle of the Crater, Lee's army slaughtered black prisoners; one soldier lamented that some survived because "we could not kill them as fast as they [passed] us." This is what the uniform Lee wore represented; this is what the army he commanded did; this is the pose in which he is immortalized in the center of Charlottesville.

There is a reason why statues of Confederate generals are still powerful political symbols; a reason why a candidate came a hair's breadth from securing the Republican gubernatorial nomination in Virginia by campaigning to preserve them. The statues in public squares, the names on street signs, the generals honored with military bases-these are the ways in which we, as a society, tell each other what we value, and build the common heritage around which we construct a nation.

The white nationalists who gathered in Charlottesville saw this perhaps more clearly than the rest of us. They understood the stakes of what they were defending. They knew that Lee was honored not for making peace per se, but for defending a society built upon white supremacy-first by taking up arms, and then when the war was lost, by laying them down in such a way as to preserve what he could.

On Saturday, President Trump told Americans they "must be united" and "condemn all that hate stands for." He deplored the "violence on many sides." A century before, such remarks would have been heartily applauded in Charlottesville. At the statue's dedication, the keynote speaker deplored the violence of the Civil War, and praised Lee for his efforts at "reunion and reconciliation," and for forging a nation with "hearts unspoiled by hate."

The myth of reunion was built around this understanding, that the nation should treat both sides in a war that killed three-quarters of a million Americans as equal, or at least not inquire too closely into the merits of each cause. And that unity would come not from honestly grappling with events, but from studiously ignoring injustice, and condemning those who oppose it as hateful.

But the swift backlash against the president's remarks by leaders of his own party and leading figures of his own administration signaled that the United States of 2017 is not the same nation it was in 1924. Republicans and Democrats alike saw the white nationalists in the streets of Charlottesville for what they were, and rejected their vision of a nation built on white supremacism.

This is why the city council of Charlottesville voted, a century after it was commissioned, to remove the statue of Robert Edward Lee.

And ultimately, it is why the others will come down, too. The statues will be moved, the streets renamed, and the military bases will honor patriots who fought for their country and not against it. Because a century and a half after Reconstruction began, America is still working on the project of constructing a more equal society, and reinvesting in the experiment of a multi-ethnic democracy.

The white nationalists in Charlottesville hoped to halt this project. Instead, they have simply given it fiercer, redoubled urgency.

We want to hear what you think about this article. Submit a letter to the editor or write to letters@theatlantic.com.

Yoni Appelbaum is a senior editor at The Atlantic, where he oversees the Ideas section.

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A multi-ethnic democracy requires grappling honestly with the past-and recognizing the symbols of the Confederacy for what they are. On Saturday in Charlottesville, a rally in defense of a statue of Robert E. Lee turned into a reenactment of the cause he led-white supremacists marching behind the Confederate battle flag, their opponents left injured or dead on the ground.