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Transcript on deposit at The Southern Historical Collection, The Louis Round Wilson Library
Citation of this interview should be as follows:
“Interview A-0100, in
the Southern Oral History Program Collection #4007,
Southern Historical
Collection, The Wilson Library,
University of North Carolina at Chapel
Hill”
Noted journalist Hodding Carter describes the change in Mississippi politics from the virulent racism of the 1960s to the relative moderation of the 1970s. Carter discusses a lot of the minutiae of Mississippi politics that might be confusing to researchers not intimately familiar with the state's political history, but offers many insightful reflections on the power of race in a state that emerged hobbled from the 1960s.
Journalist Hodding Carter describes the changes wrought in Mississippi by the civil rights movement.
[START OF TAPE 1, SIDE A]
Where do you see Mississippi politics?
Mississippi politics right now are in a holding pattern. They have made tremendous procedural change, technique change since the middle '60s. The way you get elected and the way you are perceived by the electorate if you're going to get elected has changed completely since I came back here in '59.
From what to what?
Well, what was the all-out massive resistance campaign, "nigger, nigger,
nigger," which prevailed on up through '67 and including even John Bell
Williams racial moderation being a total virtue in the way you run for
office. The nearest thing to the old kind of a campaign was a little bit
of stuff that Trent Lott's stuck on Ben Style
Was that change in technique a surface thing or was it a basic change in attitudes?
I think that what everybody always said is about correct. That you don't
change anybody's hearts by changing the law. But, you sure as
But suppose the boycotts were not extended. Suppose the anti-busing amendment passed in the Senate. Then what?
I think you would not go through a conventional second redemption as it
is sometimes regarded. Ain't possible. I think, one, that the black
Mississippians aren't the same as the ex-slaves of a hundred years ago.
And the second thing is that I think that the country as a whole,
Mississippi not excepted, is a far different country from a hundred
years ago. Old Jim Silver, when he wasn't writing up Mississippi: The Closed Society, used to say that what
everybody forgets is that there was no intellectual underpining to the
notion that there might be—well, there was no intellectual underpining a
hundred years ago for the idea that equality really might by a physical
and biological and anthropological fact. In fact, most of the social
scientists and all of the social anthropologists and what have you took
it as a given that you were dealing with an inferior. Well, now you've
got this whole, you know, sweep of whether it's any more right or not
doesn't matter. You've got a whole sweep of a century's worth of
growing. Academic justification for the notion that
But, there is absolutely no question that if the nation—the nation's not going to move off the plateau it's on for a while, anyway. But if the nation allows certain pressure points in the South to be removed, certain kinds of pressure taken off, and the voting bill is one of them, I don't think it would take us a year to pass the first, or kind of series of voting restrictions, and that would begin to alter somewhat the way the poker game was played here. The only thing is that I think in this area, as in others, there are things that would not be as easy to destroy as it was in that very short time, 1870s to the 1890s in the South the last time. That's not really very op . . . I'm not extraordinarily optimistic about it because I'm not sure how the nation as a whole is going to go on this thing. But no matter how it all goes, I don't think you'll see a reversion to what it was when I came back here in 1959 or anything approaching it.
It struck me, when I talked over at the University of Alabama the other
day—I don't remember whether I talked to you about that or not—I'm
talking to these kids, for whom—everything was just seared in
my mind in blood, you know. Rioting at Ole Miss in '62. But for them,
How do you explain to everybody in the sixties who thought everything was going to go to hell if there was massive integration?
I had a history teacher up at Princeton who once infuriated all of us by saying that what was remarkable about people who believed as passionately in laws as we alleged that we did in 1861 that it suddenly collapsed with no guerrilla action and no holding action anywhere. In a set piece of a battle. And that thereafter discovered how many of our people were perfectly willing to cooperate with the hated order in the Reconstruction period. He'd go along that line. Well, he was mainly having fun with us, but the point really is, I think, that one of the reasons who there was such absolute deep demand for conformity in some of these deep southern states was that the leadership knew damn well that once they let up on the pressure at all that, in fact, everybody wasn't in agreement. I mean that there were, in fact, great numbers of people just sitting there waiting for some way to get out from under this really oppressive system. Whites, I'm talking about. And once the feds made it possible for you to say, "Well, I have to obey the law," there were an awful lot of people who wanted to obey the law because they in fact believed in it. My god, the energy that went in to it. Justice better used for a lot of people now, not to have to sit there and worry about it all the time.
Clarke said at the beginning of the '60s that he thought massive integration was at least thirty years away, and he thought if it did come this would be the worst state in the union. Okay? Yet it turns out to be that there are fewer incidents and problems here than any place else. How do you explain that?
Well, of course that's also a matter of some perspective. Through 1965 I wouldn't have said this was the place with the fewest incidents.
Talking about 1970.
But from here on, with you mean that so-called unitary education, whatever that funny phrase meant? Yeah, I just think that one of the reasons clearly was that there had been damn near ten years in which the business and professional issue of this state, because of all the blood that flowed, you know, had to face up to what the consequences were going to be. If they were realists, and didn't like the idea of change, they had to realize that three dead kids in a county in '64 plus one Selma bridge incident in '65 guaranteed two civil rights bills they wished to God they'd never seen. I mean, you know, just as a matter. . . for that type of guy. And for the other type of guy who just wanted to be free of what he couldn't justify anyway, all that blood and all that murder and there was just—and all that arson and everything else in the '60s, convinced them. And they were slow to come to it, but convinced the business and basic economic leadership in the state, that they, they simply could not afford to let happen not only what Clarke or anybody—you know, I predicted that it was going to be, before you'd have massive integration the schools would close. I was—1962, it was a flat statement I wrote in three different magazines: we'd never see the public school system stand up to it. But between '62 and '70, there were so many really scary things that happened that I just think a lot of people started to open their eyes. They were not going to allow it to happen again.
We had a couple of state senators told us that the real psychological
impact of Ole Miss, when Kennedy sent thirty thousand troops down, was
the Mississippi natural crowd going to meet the federal army. That this
had a tremendous impact. That when the court orders came down, it was
clear, there would be a sense of futility. That was one part of it.
Another part was the part you mentioned, the economic part. It was a
combination.
I've always been a believer in the salutary effect of hitting somebody over the head hard, I mean, to get—
We had a Klansman that told us pretty much the same thing.
And in the meantime, you know, as I say, other things were sinking in.
Scores and scores of churches burned in '64. The murders. And suddenly
the whole focus came back down again on Mississippi. And you know, it
wasn't until the winter, or let's say early '65, that the Mississippi
Economic Council finally could get itself together to issue a statement
saying, "You ought to obey the law, it's time for us to turn this thing
around and obey the law." And that was after that whole series of
burnings and murders. And that was when Kennedy was president. That was
the first time that they, I think, just looked at each other in the
boardroom and said,
Coleman supported Williams against Winter.
Coleman said that is the whole name of the game, is that J. P. Coleman
sent his agent, now attorney general, Judge Summer, over to the campaign
for John Bell. And that is where Summer came from, is straight out of
Coleman's camp. Al Summer was Coleman's right-hand man and his old boy
that, you know, he used for everything. And the whole deal was that
Summer would—well, it gets all involved in—
And things just moved further and faster than Coleman perceived?
I believe so. I believe J. P. was just sort of locked in a Mississippi that sort of gutted him when he was governor and some of his measures. Well, it's like all of us. I mean, his vision just wasn't as expansive as what was going to happen.
Could Winter have won with Coleman's support?
I don't think that he could have. I don't think we'd moved that far under any circumstances.
Can you summarize very quickly James Eastland's background. Is there anything good written on him?
No. I mean, what's his name just did a quick hatchet job on him which was
erroneous to begin with in Gothic Politics. I mean,
that was just—and other than that—
What is Eastland?
Oh, basically immoral. A person whose major allegance is to the economic
class he comes from. A person whose lack of belief in his words is
matched only, I think, by fundamental belief in what the reality of
those words are. I mean, I think he is a total racist. He is basically
anti-democratic, with a small d, at heart. But he doesn't believe that
stuff he says about anything. Reminds me of another time—on another
politician, but I mean old Ross is a far more likeable guy in any way I
can think of—Ross Barnett—than Jim Eastland. Once he said to Daddy, they
were on a platform back here in Greenville, 1961, 1962. He said, "Hi,
old Ross. I've been hearing some back things about you. But I want you
to know I don't believe a one of them." Dad said, "Will you say that
publicly, Ross?" And he went, [Carter imitates a rather malicious
laugh]. Well, Eastland, you know, was always offering rides on his plane
and doing all this and that and the other and he doesn't care about any
of that. He likes power, which is what most politicians do. And he wants
to advance the immediate interests of that handful of food and fiber
folk he represents best. In his later years, he's sure become mighty
intimate with the Bunker
Who are his real close supporters, the people he represents?
Basically, the big planters, the guys who are in the extractive industries generally, I mean, whether it be oil or timber. He is a willing front man for the organized patriots, but I think that's, you know, nothing. I mean, he just does it because it fits the image that he wants. If there was ever a guy whose basic guiding light as a senator was to make sure that he came out of this world a damn sight richer than he came in, it's Jim Eastland. I mean, you know, he's unabashed self-server in terms of legislation to deal with the fact that he's got oil holdings in Tennessee and this here and that there. But he's also a master cultivator of his important constituents and he's never been accused of forgetting how to do favors up and down the line.
So what happens to Eastland when suddenly his constituency broadens and starts including several hundred thousand blacks who are registered to vote?
Not very much because thus far he hasn't been challenged by anyone who
could really appeal to that constituency—I mean that new vote—and at the
same time grab hold of a middle ground on the white vote. There just
hasn't been such a candidate come forward. And that must be because they
can't see how the two can be linked together. Another thing is, ah, he
basically—I mean, even those that really hate him. And for instance one
of the guys that will be here tonight is Billy Percy. The Percy family
probably thinks that the Eastlands—no, he won't be here either, goddamn
it. I'm sorry about that, too. At any rate, they can't stand them. On
the other hand, Eastland on the agricultural committee has done too many
favors up and down the line for cotton. So what are they going to do?
They're not going to
You don't think he's going to run again?
Oh that or he won't be well enough or young enough. And then I always think of John Stennis, who's done everything he can to protect that seat. I think next time will be it. I don't think he'll take care of his liver any longer than that. That's what's known as libel. I think this is going to be it. How old is the senator, 69?
I think that's all.
He won't need it and he'll be so
Why was there only one black elected to the legislature in Mississippi?
Magnificent delaying tactics in the courts on moves to get single member districts ordered. Some successful gerrymandering so far. And the most god-awful factionalized black politics in America. You know, in those areas where there might be some chance. I think next year that's going to change. I mean there'll be more people in there.
You think blacks are coming together politically in this state?
No, not a hell of a lot. But there are just going to be some districts where it's going to be impossible not to unless they just go crazy.
Without attributing it to you if you don't want to, how do you analyze the factions of the black politics? Who has the real strength?
Well, starting on the left there's the ideological remnants of the Freedom Democratic Party Dream, who are basically centered around some of the people who are the paid employees and spin-offs of Delta Ministry and all its many involvements across the state. And anytime you come across black parties you've got to decide there's some Delta Ministry involved in it.
How strong is that?
They are strong because they have about the last remaining tap, outside
of Charlie Evers, on foundation and church funds. I mean, they are the
conduits for do-good money in Mississippi still. Not the government's
money, but the old left money that wanted to do good for Mississippi
black people. And I don't see that as drying up tomorrow, because if one
foundation or group gets sort of disillusioned, another one comes along
and sees what looks like an old line group in here. Their greatest
strength is in areas like, for example, up in Madison County, Marshall,
But they have two things that's a problem for them in the long term. Most
of the leadership is not native Mississippian. And they have been
extremely ruthless in weeding out people who they couldn't control. So
they have this whole level of enemies moving on over from the left of
the spectrum. Then there are about three or four groups. There's Aaron
and what remains of the Loyalists. And that is the only thing which has
any kind of statewide grouping in the black
Then there's Charles Evers, who is just himself. I mean, got a few little
southwest Mississippi counties and who has his own contacts on money and
who right now is in such desperate trouble that anything you write about
him may be wiped out by some tax court by early '75, who knows. But who,
in any case, has gone about as far as he's going to go. In the state, as
the black leader, because he is perceived by many blacks as totally
selfish and not capable of sustained interest in the general needs of
the people of the state. And then in almost every community there is a
tiny handful of middle class blacks who have emerged over the last ten
to fifteen years. A lot of them came into the old poverty programs and a
lot of them came into the newer ones that were taken over by the
Where does NAACP fit?
Well, the NAACP when it comes down at all is still basically—the frame
is, in some ways interchangeable with the framework of the Loyalists. I
mean Aaron is chairman of both. And when I look at the
So how do you characterize the Evers strategy, 1971 strategy?
His endorsement of Swan. First of all, he was running as an independent. I disagree with him on everything and so . . .
Advocacy of a boycott in the second primary.
I disagreed with him on every single one of those issues. Therefore I just, you know, I just say I think he was wrong. I think he made a lot of bad mistakes. But you know, assuming he wasn't ever going to win, which he wasn't. He knew that, too. So, starting with that I don't know what the hell he thought he was doing.
You see, as a matter of ideological faith, by the Freedom Democrat folks, by the Delta ministry people, that you can't run on the Democratic Party process because it's too confusing to the black voter to have to vote then and then maybe have to vote again in the general election. You can only get them out once, and therefore get them—
And I've heard that. Is that a myth, or is that reality?
It's been tested both ways and there is convincing argument, evidence, for both propositions. You know, that they are right and that they are wrong.
We've been told that it's a one shot deal. If there are three elections, two primaries and a general, that you can only count on once.
Well, all I know is that here the woman who is the city councilman
I thought the hypothesis was based on interest. That you could only get them interested once, and that was all.
But you know, in some ways that's also an argument from thin resources
and limited personnel. How much you can work up a cadre to go out and
work the second time, more than the people. As I say, right here in
Greenville, this woman ran in a special election, January or February of
last year, this year, for city council. And got let's say twenty-five
hundred votes and got whipped in a special. Ran again in a general when
that particular seat came up, or when a seat came up here this fall,
last fall—
The thing that got to me was the idea of calling for a boycott in the second primary when you had two moderate candidates. Am I correct in assuming that blacks really had a chance to elect a governor?
Why of course.
And they would have been in a position to really wield some power, right?
It was a ridiculous thing, too,
Was it a big ego trip, or what?
Read Jason's book. Jason Berry, Amazing Grace: With Evers
Campaign in Mississippi. Don't believe any of the facts in it
because a lot of them are wrong. Just as a matter of fact. But he was a
white guy who was in the campaign and he does all the rationalizations,
you know, for what, the various points. I have difficulty with some of
these discussions because at the time they were matters of really
passionate concern to me. I was all involved and cared and screamed and
yelled. They were decided, and now I just sit here and—
My reaction to black politics in Mississippi is that it reminds me of the Republican Party in Louisiana. They're so hung up on ideology that they can't get around to winning elections.
I mean this just as much as I mean anything. The problem is almost
entirely a hang, over from the Freedom Summer, from the Freedom
Democratic Party, from the notion of politics as cause. You know,
politics as sweeping ideology,
But you're saying that next year it may start coalescing?
I think it's very probable that you've got. . . because you do have these black professional guys, you know, who are thinking about the process and what you can win within the limits and means of the process. And you do have all over the state minor black political officeholders who have discovered that it's nicer to win an election than to win an issue, anyway and who would like to see some other people win. And are willing to make deals. I mean, you know, how the governor's pet coon—what's his name, the lawyer over here—
Cleve?
Well, Cleve, you know, has been used to a point that it is too bad. But what Cleve is proving, however, to a lot of people is that, you know, if you'll work with the various political forms, there are things that you can get done. And it is pointless not to do it. But Cleve is not buying himself any tickets into the future.
But he has at least had the useful facility of—
What do you know about this guy who's the mayor of Bolton?
Who, Bennett? He's an original old Delta massacre, you know, ideologue of the old school.
He's gotten out of that bag?
Well, to some degree. I don't know how much. It used to be that the only way I knew to deal with Bennett was to feed him. Because, you know, he was impossible. He was a complete jerk. It may be that the mysteries of holding office have worked on him and he knows he's got to do a little something different.
Do you think the conflict between the Regulars and the Loyalists will be resolved before the '76 convention?
Yes, sure. But don't ask me how. It will be.
Before the convention?
Yeah. It will be.
Who's going to—will it be imposed from above?
No, they don't have the power to impose it. I expect that, given the rules which McClosky adopted and the party has now accepted, the obvious thing for them to do is pass the congressional district election procedure.
Can you summarize those rules?
Sure. In all states—except those which have a primary system for the election of delegates, a primary system which allows for the election, by congressional district, of single delegates, in which you pit people against each other singly—in all other states than those, you have to have proportional representation up and down the line above fifteen percent. But in those states which have a primary system in which—for instance, this congressional district is entitled to three delegates to the national convention, you have people running head on for those three slots—there it's still winner take all. Now goddamn, you know, the legislature came within half an inch of passing such a bill this time. The senate bill was that, and it died. They're going to come up with something.
How about if you do not have registration by party?
Well, not that way. That's what I'm saying. Now, they may be so stupid as
not to do it. Which means the new government, which comes along in
January of '76, will have to do it. You know, put in registration,
because by then they'll be in court. I mean, they'll be probably
attached to the ongoing suit. But somebody will go to court with them.
The court being first the party itself. You know, get Strauss or the
revise or review committee or somebody to say, "Hey, that law won't
do.
Will you elect a Republican governor?
A Republican governor isn't going to get elected. But if we did he would
just willingly stand there and let it all die. In which case, if we
elected a Republican governor, the only way we would do it would be the
most persuasive evidence for the Regulars—those that were left—that it
was time to make a deal with the Loyalists anyway. Because as soon as
Ellis Bodron got beat for election to the Congress out of what's now the
fourth congressional district, as soon as Thad Cochran won that because
those ten thousand votes were taken out by that white, independent
candidate, just that soon the Regulars in the fourth congressional
district started talking about, "We aren't dealing every which way known
to man with the Loyalists in that district." And if a Republican gets
elected next year—and I cannot see who that would be right now—but if
such a man got elected, those who are apt to call themselves Regulars
would fast enough make a deal with the Loyalists. Because the only way I
can see him get elected is massive defection, not
Which is who?
Oh, Gil Carmichael and a guy called X. I mean, you know, they're not going to throw anybody else out there.
How about recruiting some Democrat to switch?
They've tried . . . you'll have to ask Clarke about that. Clarke's never
been one to deal with the foe. I mean, he's happy to have them switch.
But unlike your man in South Carolina, he doesn't want the people who
switch to come over and take over his playpen. You know, it's his, and
if they switch they come under—he still is the chairman and he still
controls the party process.
What's Jim Eastland's role in resolving the problem between the Regulars and the Loyalists?
Everybody's
Who's going to be the next governor?
It could be a guy nobody would joke. Bill Waller sure proved that.
Speaking of that, I got a couple of footnotes I've got to add. Chuck
Stone, if you haven't read him already. Chuck Stone is a black
journalist up in Philadelphia who came down and interviewed Wallace and
went back and wrote a column and said, in effect, he's going to be a
vice presidential candidate because Chuck used to be Adam Clayton
Powell's AA.
[END OF TAPE 1, SIDE A]
[START OF TAPE 1, SIDE B]
Conventional wisdom is that Deleos Waller and the new politics media
approach won it for Governor Waller. The second is that Eastland, by
seeing to it that large amounts of campaign money of which he had
control were given to Waller. And his ability to talk to supervisers and
people on the bench in the state.
Combined with a populist appeal.
Right, right.
Listen, I've heard all of this.
By the way, did we miss one?
No, except that you don't really stress hard enough that business of
running really hard against Capital Street gang. I mean, the Eastland
thing was muted. That was a power play but that was done by phone calls,
saying, you know, this boy's a good boy, and all of that. It wasn't so
much that he liked Bill as he hated Charlie so much. But in attacking
the people who had beenJackson Daily News which took great delight in running
all of Dale Bumpers's ads side by side with all of Bill Waller's. And
every single word was the same except for the name of the candidate. But
I think the techniques that were used there were effective. And I just
think to myself, you know, sitting there in the living room watching the
different approaches on television, I mean, shit, Charlie bore me into a
coma. Because he'd sit there and talk at you, for half an hour at a lick
sometimes and such as that. And Bill Waller, who's got enough sense to
know he shouldn't talk too long on the stump, had some pretty good
stuff. And that was Walker, I'm sure. But God—
How do you assess Bill Waller as governor aside from your personal involvements with him?
Oh, I've always liked Bill. You know, to tell you the truth. We endorsed
him in '55, '65 I mean. I'll get there yet, '67. We endorsed him in '67.
While that was halfway a game, nevertheless it wasn't a
Is he a power mad man?
I don't see him that way. I didn't say he was power mad. I said he was
power hungry. I'm sure I said that, but hell,
Have you found him to be refreshing?
I'm not going to say your word for you, but I find him to be the best governor the state's had in my lifetime. That's all and that isn't saying a hell of a lot but it's saying that much, anyway. Better than J. P.
Would you rate J. P. second?
As a governor. Yeah.
Why?
Simply because he had enough sense to know that at some point the
constitution had to be, you know, jiggered around or changed up if we
were going to get a government that was worth a damn. No race at all. I
mean in a state where the governor's only power is limited patronage
Improved education. Everyone of them says they improved education.
Well, yeah, you do something about it. You either improve it or you make the safeguards for segregation even stronger. Whatever. But J. P. went a little further than that.
How do you evaluate John Bell and what significance
Do you remember the speech?
I'm just trying to sit here and think that he said, because I wrote two editorials about it right afterward. Tell me what the line was, then I can tell you what my response was.
He couldn't find a copy of the speech and we haven't found anybody that heard it.
What did he claim was the effect of it?
That it was a moderating influence.
No. I mean, it was a Nixon speech, was what it was. I mean, it was one of
those things saying we have to obey the law because we are law-abiding
people, but the law stinks. You know . . . Paul Johnson gave a better
moderating speech than John Bell did that night. I mean Paul, when he'd
talk about—I mean Paul would talk about how we got to
You mean Oxford?
No. It starts with a G. My mind's completely gone. There was all kinds of hell in the town, where Brad Dye's from, who's the state treasurer. It will come to me. It doesn't matter. But John Bell undoubtedly, considering that he had to break with some of his people, knew it, sees it as a great moderating speech. I saw it as a sort of slimy, backdoor appeal to the worst instincts of the people at the time. I remember more and more now because I sat there in Washington.
Because actually, Waller has some people who in some ways are a little swifter than he is. I can't make him lose any weight, but other than that, as far as his public image goes, he's got a pretty good notion of what he ought to be doing.
We went to the press conference.
What did he handle that day?
Chickens.
That's right. My god. That's right. He sure did. Among other things. That was the faults of the feds, as I recall.
What effect do you see reapportionment having in Mississippi?
Some. You know, not just one hell of a lot. The caliber of the
legislature is going to improve—and it really is. I mean, it's a damn
sight better body. They are
Has that done more than any single thing to break the political strength of the Delta?
Reapportionment? It's done a fair amount simply because it gets down to
those real populations. But also I think you're going to see some change
anyway. The old man dies and it alters some of the power balances. But
if you stop to think about it, the Delta is not exactly underprotected.
It's power in the legislature is immense.
What sort of coalition do you see in the Democratic Party coming after the resolution of the differences between the Regulars and the Loyalists?
Oh, the blacks, northeast Mississippi, working white population.
How about your courthouse Democrats? Are they going to stay in the Democratic Party or are they going to switch over?
They'll stay but, I mean, you got to figure that most of those boys are within ten years of being gone. I mean there's a big split in age between the guys that have been the powers forever in the state, I mean the courthouse, and then that whole crew of people who have come along.
But who's going to replace that group? Are they going to be Republican or Democrat?
No, not necessarily. Part of them will be Democrats. I started to say that a lot of the traditional sources for Mississippi leadership will remain Democrats. The young lawyers, you know, coming along and saying that—
How about your top level of your financial and business communities?
When Jim Eastland or John Stennis go out or die, they are going to leave the Democratic Party.
Does it depend who gets elected to the U.S. Senate whether they are Republicans or Democrats?
Doesn't make a good goddamn.
Who else is going to move into the Republican Party?
Yeah, they're going to move because, you see, whoever gets elected isn't going to be able to deliver the goodies anymore the way Stennis and Eastland can. A long road they've got to hoe to get up there. Other Republicans? Hell, almost anybody I know. I mean sort of—I'm now talking about the younger business people, the doctor, mason, the whole strata of college-educated whites. Almost anybody—
So ten years down the road you'll see a new Republican party?
Almost anybody who went to Ole Miss. I mean, that's only semi-facetious.
So, in the short run you don't see much of a growth? What's the political impact of the Citizens' Council, private school people?
They are of course the most conservative. They have strength out of all
proportion to their numbers simply because they are already financially
and politically influential in their community. I mean, shit, here there
are twice as many whites in the public schools as there are in the
county. Here in Greenville. You sure as hell couldn't tell it by talking
to the first fifty white leaders
Do they tend to bankroll the Republican Party?
Not necessarily, not necessarily. A lot of them. Tonight a few Republicans will be there. Clarke and Judy are original backers of the state academy, which has had an unfortunate effect on how we get along.
[Discussion of enrollment in state academies.]
Which, incidentally, you know, Bill Waller has pandered to like crazy.
In what way did he pander?
He made speeches echoing those predictions. Eighty thousand by this fall,
a hundred and fifty thousand soon. You know, the whole business. Very
carefully himself
Is that right?
Sure.
So Waller's kids are not in public schools?
They have not been.
Why didn't they keep going?
One, we're too poor. I mean for a lot of parents to be able to afford
four, five, six hundred dollars a year for their kids is part of it. The
second thing is that the reality is that when you get outside of the
mythology and you leave the Delta and about ten other counties, whites
are in a sizable majority. And tilt points don't happen to occur at
twenty or thirty percent. So that people discovered that blacks weren't
really taking over the schools. Third, the public schools in many places
were integrated from portal to portal but not from class to class and
there's an awful lot of games like that being played right now. So that,
in effect, you were preserving your children in what were basically
white classes anyway. The third thing is, the public schools are mighty
hard for Mississippians to abandon, as it turns out. Daddy always used
to say the reason they wouldn't be integrated in many of these
communities was that they were so vital as community centers, as the
focus for so much of the life. Well, that was a good argument. But once
there was no question that they had to be integrated, they still
remained vital and in the consciousness of many of the people
How much of a role did conscience play in that? You know, somewhere in there you had to make a decision.
I think a lot. But it sort of begs the basis of your question for me to say that. Which is, you know, a lot of conscience involved. How come it didn't express itself earlier? Or why would everybody have been so universal in their predictions that it wasn't there strong enough to prevent—and I don't have a handy-dandy answer for that. Just have to give you all these other—
This brings me back to a point you mentioned earlier. You thought there
was a lot of moderation out there earlier and it was kind of released
when
. . . a minority, which was released. Yes, I do.
I have a little trouble understanding that.
Oh well, it's not too hard.
Where was the power in this oppression?
The power of the oppression was in the conscious acts through history from Reconstruction on. And an entire rewriting of history and an absolute demand by those who reshaped society and the redemption. All built around one fundamental thing: that any white who didn't agree with the white majority was more than a dissenter, he was a traitor, and was to be treated as a traitor would be treated in wartime. Which is that economically he should be destroyed, physically intimidated. Those business council pamphlets back in '55 used to say it best. I mean, never said anybody ought to be killed, but said there were ways to deal with it which we in our Delta—where it started—had always known how to do. And there were just one hell of a lot of people who were just scared.
I'll tell you the truth. I'll tell you who's really free in Mississippi
for the first time. It's not the black man, who still is economically,
you know, about as much in bondage as he ever was. ByMississippi: The Closed Society anymore. And an awful lot of
whites are never going to go back willingly. You talk about what would
happen if the feds pull away. Well, more than what would happen to
blacks, there are a hell of a lot of whites who aren't just going to lie
down and let them roll over them again and let, you know, five guys
sitting in a small room decide what's acceptable for the people to say
publicly and what you're allowed to do in your home and what your
children can do and who they're going to associate with. That's the
hardest thing for me to remember now—how tiny a thing you could do ten
years ago and be in desperate difficulty. You know, what few dissenting
remarks could destroy you politically. Or make you fear for your job, or
if you were a minister get you run the hell out of the state—as an awful
lot of young ministers discovered in the early sixties. That just
doesn't happen like that anymore.
But seriously, Hodding, in your opinion, how much was the question of having to make a moral judgment a factor in preserving the public school system on the part of whites who could afford to send their children to private schools?
It was, for many whites who could afford it, and is, a matter of most
agonizing kind of moral choice. And one of the reasons why decisions
among old friends on this subject has been so great, right here, is
simply because it was perceived finally not as a, just a simple decision
about where your children goes to school but a moral question. Which
those who made on either side felt pretty damn strongly about. And an
awful lot of people lost their battles with their consciences—and that's
me talking, on my side of the line you understand. And I see it that
way. And a lot of other people surprised themselves by standing and
then
But that decision is a function of money?
I doubt it.
If you don't have the money there's no decision.
Oh, yeah, to a large degree. Except that there are a bunch of people that work for me who sure as hell don't make a lot of money but who put every damn penny they got into their kid going to state academy. I mean gals and their husbands who together aren't making enough to make the old index practically, but whose kids are there. But sure, sure, the ongoing thing for most of them is a function of social or economic class.
You think they're here to stay?
State academy? I think in any community of any size there will be one
private school left ten years from now. Washington School here will
still be here ten years from now. The Christian school will probably be
gone. Jackson Prep is there forever. It's just there. Assuming we are
all going through the middle of a great depression, which maybe isn't a
very good assumption, but assuming there is some economic base left,
there'll be private schools left. Washington School, for instance—now
this is something that's useful to remember—Washington School is at
least partially the expression of social snobbery which has
Let me ask you about one other thing, the R&D Center. How significant is that in the future of Mississippi?
I think what it stands for and what it tries to do is very important. You
know, I don't think it's always successful. And I think that sometimes
Its downright wrongheaded. But—let's put it this way. Mississippi is not
going to get itself out of being last relatively by doing, you know,
standard, conventional things in any area. I mean, there's just no way.
We don't have enough self-generated capital. So
If you look at what has happened the last twenty-five years in terms of moving into a modern society, in terms of modernization—I'm not going to define the term, but look at it from that perspective—is there any single force in the state that has more impact than the R&D Center, institutionally?
The cotton picker. It's completely changed the face of the state. We're no longer an agricultural based state simply because our labor force is no longer on the farm.
Is no longer needed on the farm.
That's what I mean. It's not on the farm and I'm being facetious when I say the cotton picker. I should say automation on the farm. The picker, pesticides, herbicides.
Hasn't automation on the farm had the effect of removing that aspect of public policy dominated traditionally by the Delta, that it forced upon the state to adopt a public policy to protect farm labor?
Yes, of course. I was being serious. What I'm saying is that almost all
changes are a consequence of the state no longer being a purely
agricultural economy. And also the consequence of literally thousands
and thousands of blacks faced with being released from very close
bondage.
I guess my real question should have been, does it potentially?
My god, that's what I say. It is absolutely—what it represents is essential and fundamental if we're ever going to move. I'm talking now in terms of economics and community development.
In predicting the future coalition that would form the Democratic Party, you said you believed the top-level business and financial community would move into the Republican Party. Do you see any chance of it remaining in the Democratic Party in coalition with blacks because they'd have the same common interest in developing this state into a modern industrial society?
Well, I can't answer that yes because that assumes that the guys who are now the top leadership of the economic and other can't find plenty of people in the Republican Party who want to develop it. I mean, you know, economically and bring it into a kind of modern society.
To go into the Republican Party, then you're saying you're going to end up with a basically moderate Republican Party.
I'd say there's as much potential for that as not. Look, there's never
any escaping race in Mississippi. And therefore there's no escaping the
implications of your earliest question to me about, you know, what if
certain things happen. Assuming, at any rate, that there's no great
reversal and that we stay at least on the plateau we're on now in terms
of the way races deal with each other, then the Republican Party,
despite its catering often to disenchanted Dixiecrats, can damn well
construct itself as a moderate party on race. And certainly has enough
little tentative starts in that direction already to suggest that it's
not going to be destructive to them. I mean, God knows, it's all
Christmas trimming. But Thad Cochran, you know, gets himself a black
field guy.
If the White House had supported Carmichael wholeheartedly against Eastland, could Carmichael have won?
No, he would have scared the shit—he would have scared them so bad it would have been terrible. He just had money. You know, my god, he gets what, forty-one percent or something.
Forty percent of the major party vote.
With no money, no money whatsoever. He has no media whatsoever. He's
terrible. He could have done a lot better, but he couldn't have beat
him. Could not have beat him. But he could have come very, very close.
Which should have more implications for future political campaigns. It's
an amazing thing, Nixon had his good reasons for it, but they screwed up
so bad in '64—the Republicans did. They had a chance to take every
goddamn thing that was up there.
When Agnew had come down and, you know, made this great speech, endorsing two Republican candidates for Congress, both of whom won. If he'd given an equally large bear hug to Carmichael do you think it would have had any . . .
I say it would have made it a scary, scary election. But you have to go further than that. Also, Kleindienst couldn't have come down and kissed Eastland's butt, and Butz couldn't have kissed his butt. And you know, all the rest of them. There would have had to have been a kind of across-the-board commitment which was reverse English entirely of what was done. But more than all that, it had to be something that would free up a lot more money, because he just didn't have it.
END OF INTERVIEW