1
Central High and 1957:
A Crisis For All Concerned
Introduction
Until 1957, Little Rock, Arkansas was merely a sleepy, southern city, tucked away in the heartland of America. The calamity that placed it upon the world stage centered around the integration of CentralHigh School. This paper reviews the historical event, but specifically addresses the challenges faced by those who shepherded nine black children through a war between the will of the federal government and the whims of local politics. In a school under siege, educators were called upon to maintain decorum, to teach, and expect students to learn, in what was, in essence, a war zone.
Over the years of 1957 through 1963, the teachers, and the nine black students, were not isolated, although their daily paths must have seemed lonely. Numerous others suffered, as well. Epitaphs were hurled. Careers were ruined. Make-shift bombs exploded. Crosses were burned. Businesses were boycotted out of existence. Churches split. Friendships were destroyed. Schools were closed. As one minister said to me, “It was not a fun time to be alive.”1 This paper includes those stories, too, for it was a community in crisis.
The Story Begins
Overnight, Little Rock became a place universally recognized, a milestone like Lexington and Concord, a salvo of educational change heard around the world. A palatial campus housing some 2000 students, Central was noted primarily for academic excellence and football; it was to become the sight of the showdown between segregationists and the word of the U. S. Supreme Court. The five-story, stone building in the heart of the city stood like a mighty fortress.
On Sunday, September 1, 1957, Governor Faubus officially issued the call for the Arkansas National Guard and State Police to surround CentralHigh School. They were to do whatever necessary to prevent the Negro children from entering on September 3, 1957. According to Faubus, there was going to be a mob, a riot.3 There is no evidence that any mob violence was planned, nor suspected.4
On the fateful morning, eight of the nine arrived and left together. ElizabethEckford, on the other hand, had not gotten the word that there might be trouble. All alone, this petite 15-year-old walked toward the school. Guards crossed their bayonets in front of her. When she tried to retreat, the mob surrounded her, yelling, spitting, pushing, threatening. "Get her. Linch the black bitch!" "Get a rope and drag her over to this tree." 5
Dr.BenjaminFine, education reporter for The New York Times followed her closely. It is recorded that he put his arm around her and patted her shoulder, raised her chin and said, “Don’t let them see you cry!”6 Dr. Fine, a Jew, saw the crowd turn on him. The National Guard surrounded Fine and reprimanded him for attempting to “incite a riot.”7
Two weeks passed. The governor failed to remove the National Guard and insisted on keeping schools segregated by force. President DwightEisenhower announced he was sending in 1000 paratroopers of the 101st Airborne.8 Early the morning after their arrival, they marched across the BroadwayStreetBridge through the middle of the city in full battlefield regalia and surrounded the beleaguered school.
It was at sunset on a brisk fall day that I first pulled up to 14th and Park; I paused to picture how it would have been back then. This tree-shaded intersection had been Roadblock Alpha. There were barriers there and troops questioned anyone who tried to pass. Lines of armed paratroopers stretched for two city blocks. Patrol jeeps drove back and forth. Infantrymen, their walkie-talkies crackling, watched from the rooftop like soldiers in guard towers. A military helicopter hovered overhead. The tension was as thick as the humidity.
The Teachers
Getting past the guards was just the beginning. Each day the teachers were given a memo from the principal, Jess Matthews, a person who achieved near-sainthood in the eyes of ShirleyStancil and others whose accounts we have.9 He reminded them of their duty. He thought of every possible contingency. He spoke to the white students, as well, insisting that they call upon their heritage and pride. By September 18, 1957, his doctor had prescribed for him some tranquilizers. By the end of the year, all of the staff members would be on some sort of medication or had turned to alcohol.10
The teachers had to arrive earlier than usual to pass through guarded entrance ways.11 All had been issued identification badges. Stancil and Elizabeth Huckaby, a Vice Principal, both give accounts of planning their days by the schedules of the students.12 There were certain catacombed-like crannies in the huge building that were ideal camouflage for attacks on the black students.13 As Stancil related to me,
I really could not have prevented any assault, but hoped my presence woulddiscourage such. It was my duty to protect these children, just as I would
any child. Doing so, however, was much more of a challenge than I ever expected. It is a miracle none were seriously injured or killed."14
The memory of the year is punctuated for these brave ladies by bomb threats,15 locker searches, repeated pranks,16 and concern for their welfare, as every day they negotiated the mine fields of bigotry, racism, and hatred.
LolaDunnevant and her friends worried about “protecting” the Negro workers and what to do if shooting broke out. The sense of responsibility lay heavy upon her. MissDunnevant was a segregationist, but had, nevertheless, concern for the welfare of all concerned. She wrote,
The school bristled with bayonets. I think that made people more annoyedthan anything else. Annoyed is an understatement... Enraged is a better word.
I can take a gun and not be troubled. Guns have always been a part of my life...But bayonets -- well, they arose savage feelings that I did not even know
I possessed.....17
On another occasion, she wrote, “I am not going to be pert to any of them. They have ... bayonets, and I haven’t even got a hat pin.”18
Collecting cards and posters with hateful messages was an everyday affair, as was the investigation of their origin. Stancil, as counselor, was often put into the role of detective. With that chore came documentation of events, reports, and actions taken. Parents called daily repeating rumors they had heard in the community about bombs going off, black boys staring at white girls, soldiers watching the girls undress for physical education, etc.19 On top of the regular duties of faculty, teachers had to contend with the gravity of the moment. Given the climate of the city, any day might have brought physical harm to a child, or to a staff member.20
ErnestGreen (first black graduate at Central) describes three kinds of teachers. There were a few, like the physics teacher, who were the enemy. There were a few, like Stancil, Huckaby, and Matthews, who could be trusted. But, the vast majority of the teachers were an unknown. They were indifferent. "We never felt safe in their classrooms." It was the “not knowing” that was maddening.21
One teacher's apartment was bombarded with rocks through the windows to which were attached epitaphs like, "Nigger-Lovin Bitch."22 Most of the Central High teachers suffered social ostracism. Stancil tells of attending bridge club - As I walked into the room, it became quiet. On my way to my table, I overheard a lady say, "She's one of those integrationists. She teaches at Central High."23 She, and others, were interrogated by police, accused of being Communists, asked to list and defend daily activities and friendships, labeled in the media as civil rights supporters, were called upon to testify in court, before the school board, and in various hearings. Each occasion brought increased tension and pressure.24
Her reaction, as I am sure is true of others, was mixed. It was difficult for her to see herself as anything other than a professional teacher who was doing her job. She really had not given much thought to civil rights one way or the other. She had concerns about her own children and worried about her income as she was the sole support of her family while her husband was in pharmacy school. She recounted to me the event that was a "wake-up call:"
I was standing in the kitchen washing dishes after supper and suddenly had the urge tocry. I went into our bedroom and collapsed across the bed, my
bodyracked with sobs. My husband, of course, came to investigate. He insisted I getsome help. He meant get a prescription of drugs. I did not want
that, but agreed that if he saw symptoms like this again, I would.25
On the way home from work in early May, 1959, she heard her name read on the radio as one of the 44 teachers who would not be rehired due to their support of integrationist activities.26
Daisy Bates
As in many of life's endeavors, freedoms are not acquired without sacrifice. Daisy Bates [president of the Arkansas National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP)], and her husband, had their lives threatened, their home attacked, and their business boycotted. The threats were constant and there was little protection, other than neighbors who stood guard.27
Dr.DaleCowling, pastor of SecondBaptistChurch and president of the Greater Little Rock Ministerial Alliance, received his share of frightening phone calls and threats on his and his family’s life. Of the pastors of the prominent churches, he was the only one who preached in favor of integration in September of 1957. Although he was white, he lived down the street from the Bates. He recounted how he and Mrs.Bates would kid and laugh about their predicament. It was tragic comedy; it was a way of coping.28
Mrs.Bates was more than the leader of an organization, she was an inspiration. She knew, all too well, the prices that were being paid. The parents of a number of the Little Rock Nine lost their jobs. While Green went on to college in Michigan, the other eight students were sent out of state to school in 1958. By the end of the year, the NAACP, as well as local authorities, feared for their lives. The American civil rights movement does not lack for martyrs, and the Little Rock Nine are certainly counted among them. Daisy Bates deserves sainthood for what she endured. Her courage is beyond reproach.
The Press
HarryAshmore, the editor of the Arkansas Gazette, who had repeatedly supported the cause of the NACCP and the integration forces, won a Pulitzer Prize for his editorials, but after numerous threats to his family, resigned and moved to California. He has published numerous books (e.g., Civil Rights and Wrongs, 1994; Hearts and Minds: The Anatomy of Racism from Roosevelt to Reagan, 1982). He hosted the mass media as they rushed to Little Rock in the fall of 1957 to cover this breaking story.
There were two major newspapers in the capital city, the Arkansas Democrat and the Arkansas Gazette. There were television outlets for the three networks of the time, i.e., NBC, CBS, ABC. United Press International and the Associated Press kept reporters there. All of the above and other news outlets rushed reporters to the city. Today we would call it a media feeding frenzy.
The coaxial cable had spread from coast to coast, making it possible to have live telecast. Americans watched the events in Little Rock in their living rooms each evening. On-site reporting is a main-stay of the news business today, but was the latest technology in 1957 -- a technology young newsmen and their networks were eager to try out. While this is recounted in Ashmore’s book (1982), I learned it first hand via a casual conversation with Sander Vanocer.
In 1995, while a student at Vanderbilt, he was serving as a fellow at the FirstAmendmentCenter. I attended one of his afternoon “coffees” and as we walked to our cars together he shared with me his Little Rock experience. “We were all just starting our careers. Aside from the gravity of the event, we were having a ball! We had this new technology and we were eager to establish ourselves as reporters.” There was HarryReasoner, JohnChancellor, FrankMcGee, and MikeWallace, for example. Wallace got the coveted interview with Governor Faubus. JohnChancellor wrote a classic editorial about the injustice of segregation as a reflection of what he saw in Little Rock.29
Public Servants
On September 7, 1959, three dynamite blasts shook the city on that Labor Day. One demolished a city-owned station wagon parked in the driveway of Fire Chief GannNalley’s home. He had led the brigade who hosed down a mob gathered in front of Central a month earlier. The second exploded in the office of the mayor, who promptly moved his family to the west coast, far away from the city where he had grown up. The third detonated at the school administration building.
The police chief, GeneSmith, in whom so many had come to depend as a voice of calm in the storm, murdered his wife and committed suicide. His actions were categorized as stress related. He had been labeled a Judas and a member of the Gestapo by the segregationist leaders.
BillHadley, a well-known television personality who owned a public relations firm, encouraged residents to come to the support of school personnel and the Little Rock Nine, to "stand up and be counted." He lost his business and sold his home to a former governor. To survive, his family moved in with relatives in Massachusetts. With the help of friends, he got a job in Washington, DC. He only talked about the degree of his stress some thirty years later.
Hadley refused to talk about why he was leaving Little Rock. Mrs.Bates interviewed him in preparation for her book, and he told her about the stress and the deep depression into which he had plunged as he saw his career collapsing around him. He bought a gun to kill himself, but changed his mind. Just to make sure he did not use it, he gave it to GeneSmith. It was the gun used by Smith to kill himself and his wife.31
The Politicians
The state’s leaders were political pygmies. Predominantly a one-party state, the members of the General Assembly acted as the Governor wished. The record does not show that any stood up to him, or spoke out on behalf of the integrationists efforts.
Major politicians, such as J.WilliamFulbright, widely known for his Fulbright Exchange Program, and his chairmanship of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, remained quiet on the issue. One who did not, however, was CongressmanBrooksHays. An amiable man, he sought to mediate the differences between the governor and the president. He was used as a political toy. After sixteen years in Congress lost his seat in the next election. He knew he was right. He said,
God's law is higher than man's law. We have to do this thing (i.e., integration) for two reasons. One, the U. S. Supreme Court has ruled it and we are a
nation of laws. Secondly, we have to do it because it is the right thing to do. 32
As past president of the large and powerful Southern Baptist Convention, he was ousted not only by his constituents, but shunned by many of his Christian brethren as well.
The Ministers
Mrs.Bates had been concerned the night before integration was to happen and thought perhaps the presence of ministers might discourage violence. She called Rev. DunbarOgden, president of the Interracial Ministerial Alliance. He was skeptical. When the next morning dawned, Bates and the children headed toward the mob in front of the high school, where four ministers met them, two black and two white -- Rev. Ogden (with his son, David) and Will Campbell of Nashville, Tennessee.
The night before the second attempt to integrate Central, these two men appeared at the Bates' to pray with them. Daisy suggested that it was the children who really needed prayer. They went to the homes of all nine and prayed with them.33Rev. Ogden was later dismissed from his church and his son, David, after enduring repeated ignominious assaults, committed suicide in 1960.34
One would think that in a time of crisis, especially in the heart of the Bible belt, churches would rally around their membership caught in the fray, lend support, and be havens of peace for all. Thankfully, there were some places of worship, especially in the black community, that served admirably. Black ministers counseled the students in how to remain non-violent, how to withstand the ridicule, the verbal abuse, the eggs thrown at them, the pain that came from the cuts and bruises they encountered as well as the humiliation and ostracism.35
Among the white population, however, this was not the norm. Teachers found themselves accosted at church by those who both pitied them and cautioned them not to be found befriending the black students enrolled at Central. There was a small effort by some liberal pastors to at least give lip service to the effort by having a day of prayer for the community on the Sunday before the schools were to be integrated. In 1957, most congregations and denominations were profoundly quiet about civil rights.36