Civil Rights Activists Remember Little Rock Crisis

By David Pitts
USIA Staff Writer

LITTLE ROCK, Ark., (Sept. 21) They were the people that much of the press did not write about in 1957, the civil rights activists who risked their careers and reputations to support the Little Rock Nine and the cause of integration.

A group of them, black and white, some now in their seventies, gathered together September 21, 1997, to remember the crisis so long ago and to discuss race relations in Little Rock today.

Grainger Williams and his wife, Frances, recalled the intensity of feeling against whites like themselves who supported integration. "I was appalled as an officer of the Chamber of Commerce that business was not taking a strong enough stand," Williams said, "and tried to do something about it". When business finally did act, the cost was high. "We lost a third of our membership for a while," he said. Individual businesses that took a stand "also suffered and lost customers."

"We were afraid to say we belonged to the NAACP," the nation's oldest civil rights organization, remembers Mildred Terry, who is a cousin of Ernest Green, one of the Little Rock Nine. "We were particularly concerned for the safety of the black students and for Daisy Bates," the NAACP leader who shepherded them through the crisis. Bates is now in her eighties and in poor health, but attended many of the week's events.

Pat Murphy, the youngest member of the group, said he was representing his mother who had been active in the Women's Emergency Committee, a nongovernmental organization (NGO) of mostly white women who fought to re-open the public high schools after the state closed them for the 1958-59 school year in resistance to integration. Her book, "Breaking the Silence: Little Rock Women's Emergency Committee to Open Our Schools," was published posthumously earlier this year.

Clarice Miller, an African American, was active in the Panel of American Women, an NGO that worked to foster better race relations after the initial moves toward integration. "I think there is a lot of improvement in race relations in Little Rock, but we have a long way to go," she said. She lamented that poorer African Americans, in particular, still lack access to opportunity and that many well-to-do parents no longer send their children to public schools. "But in this respect, Little Rock is no different than any other major city," she added.

That sentiment was echoed by Wiley Branton, a judge, whose father championed key legal initiatives against segregation. At that time, "the courts and the Supreme Court were key allies. That has not been as true in recent years," he said. "We should never forget what happened in '57; it was a very shameful time in our history," he remarked. "But Little Rock is now no better or worse than any other place in America. Our cities now have similar problems of gangs, drugs, and teen pregnancy that were not nearly so bad 40 years ago. Now race is but one component."

Irene Samuel, a key official with the Women's Emergency Committee, said, "I think there has been a change of heart among many whites, but we have a long way to go in race relations." She recalled that her late husband, a Jewish physician, lost a large number of patients because of their views on integration. "There was a lot of anti-semitism back then as well. There is no doubt the city has improved 100 percent over what it was like in 1957," she noted.

Barbara Phillips, one of the white activists in the Panel of American Women, said, "I think we ran out of gas after the initial victories on integration. We backed off a little and there is still much to do in promoting better race relations. We need to continue."