Robert William Saunders and a memoir of the civil rights movement in Florida

Robert William Saunders and a memoir of the civil rights movement in Florida

Material Information

Robert William Saunders and a memoir of the civil rights movement in Florida
Burroughs, Ericka Lynise
Place of Publication:
Tampa, Florida
University of South Florida
Publication Date:
Physical Description:
vi, 203 leaves ; 29 cm.


Subjects / Keywords:
Saunders, Robert W. -- Robert William -- 1921- ( lcsh )
Civil rights movement -- History -- Florida -- 20th century ( lcsh )
African americans -- Civil rights -- Florida ( lcsh )
Dissertations, Academic -- Applied Anthropology -- Masters -- USF ( FTS )


General Note:
Includes the edited version of Mr. Saunders' memoirs. Thesis (M.A.)--University of South Florida, 1996. Includes bibliographical references (leaves 199-203).

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of South Florida
Holding Location:
Universtity of South Florida
Rights Management:
All applicable rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier:
022464636 ( ALEPH )
35327297 ( OCLC )
F51-00122 ( USFLDC DOI )
f51.122 ( USFLDC Handle )

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ROBERT WILLIAM SAUNDERS AND A MEMOIR OF THE CIVIL RIGHTS MOVEMENT IN FLORIDA by ERICKA LYNISE BURROUGHS A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Arts Department of Anthropology University of South Florida May 1996 Major Professor: Susan Greenbaum, Ph. D.


Graduate School University of South Florida Tampa, Florida CERTIFICATE OF APPROVAL Master's Thesis This is to certify that the Master's Thesis of ERICKA LYNISE BURROUGHS with a major in Applied Anthropology has been approved by the Examining Committee on January 12, 1996 as satisfactory for the thesis requirement for the Master of Arts degree Examining Committee: Major Professor: Susan D. Greenbaum, Ph.D. Waterman, Ph.D.


DEDICATION To the unsung heros and heroines of the Civil Rights Movement who dedicated their lives to equality and justice for all.


ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I wish to thank everyone who encouraged me and guided me throughout my graduate study. I especially thank my major professor, Susan Greenbaum, who has always lent me her scholarly, motherly, and friendly advice. In addition, I would like to thank Robert Saunders who taught me that education without experience is worthless. Without you both, this thesis would not be a reality. I greatly appreciate my committee members', Cheryl Rodriguez and Patricia Waterman, time and supervision as well as their expertise which they so graciously shared. And to all of my professors at the University of South Florida--thank you for making me a better anthropologist. Finally, I want to thank my mother who really wanted me to be a doctor but respected me enough to support my decision to be an anthropologist. Thanks, Morn, for your unending guidance, patience, and love.




CHAPTER 8 THE FLORIDA LEGISLATURE: THE LAST DEFENSE 138 CHAPTER 9. JACKSONVILLE: THE MODEL BRANCH 151 CHAPTER 10. SNAPSHOTS:OTHER FLOR IDA ACTIVITIES 160 Escambia County 160 Okaloosa County 161 Bay County 164 Holmes County 165 Orange County 166 Pinellas County 171 Lake County 176 Volusia County 180 Broward County 183 Brevard County 189 CONCLUSION 192 REFERENCES 199 ii


LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS AND ACRONYMS A&M Agricultural and Mechanical A&T Agricultural and Technical AME African Methodist Episcopal CME Christian Methodist Episcopal CORE Congress on Racial Equality FEPC Fair Employment Practice Committee FSTA Florida State Teachers Association FWPA Federal Works Program Administration KKK Ku Klux Klan NAACP National Association for the Advancement of Colored People SCLC Southern Christian Leadership Conference SNCC Student Non-violent Coordinating Committee USF University of South Florida iii


ROBERT WILLIAM SAUNDERS AND A MEMOIR OF THE CIVIL RIGHTS MOVEMENT IN FLORIDA by ERICKA LYNISE BURROUGHS An Abstract Of a thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Arts Department of Anthropology University of South Florida May 1996 Major Professor: Susan Greenbaum, Ph.D. iv


The Civil Rights Movement will be remembered as the greatest grassroots movement in United States history. Participants in the movement transcended the boundaries of race, ethnicity, age, socioeconomic status, and educational status. Historians have produced a plethora of literature on the Civil Rights movement, but there exist fewer works by the people who were actually responsible for the movement. Robert Saunders, who served as the Florida's field secretary for the NAACP during the pivotal years of the Civil Rights Movement, has embarked on a memoir documenting his experiences in the segregated South, in the NAACP, and as a leader in the Civil Rights Movement. In addition to describing his own work and accomplishments, Mr. Saunders acknowledges civil rights activists whose contributions to the Florida movement would otherwise remain unknown because of their marginal status in society. When I read Mr. Saunders' memoir, I immediately recognized the value in his work. Not only the memoir document significant moments in history, but it offered Mr. Saunders' unique perspective on these special moments. Thus, when Mr. Saunders asked me to assist him in editing his memoir for possible publication, I readily agreed to v


offer my advice. Eventually, my role expanded into one of .major editing and revisions of the manuscript. My thesis documents my relationship with Mr. Saunders as well as our combined effort to develop an effective memoir. I also briefly describe the NAACP's role in the Civil Rights Movement, and compare the organization's endeavors with those of the SCLC, CORE, and SNCC. Moreover, I will consider how an applied anthropologist can assist people in preserving their own history. Finally, I present the m emoir. The memoir is still incomplete, because Mr. Saunders has added four more chapters that he wrote inde p endently of my collaboration, and I agreed that he would author the conclusion solely. Even so, it demonstrates how an applied anthropologist can effectively assist in the pre s ervation of significant social historical r esources. Abst ract Approved: __ Major Professor: Susan Greenbaum, Ph.D. Professor, Department of Anthropology D ate Approved: ____ v i


PART ONE CHAPTER 1. INTRODUCTION Robert William Saunders served as the Florida field secretary of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP} from 1952 until 1966. A native of Tampa, Mr. Saunders attended Bethune-Cookman College before he was drafted in the Army in 1942. After a brief stint in the Army, he settled in Detroit where he became an active member in the local NAACP branch. H e later applied for a paid position in the organization and was hired by Walter White as Florida's new field secretary. Mr. Saunders succeeded Harry Tyson Moore who died after his home was bombed on Christmas night in 1951. Moore's wife Harriet also died as a result of that bombing. Thus, when Mr. Saunders returne d to his native state, h e encountered people who were afraid to be associated with the NAACP in any way. Organizing people to begin fighting for their civil rights was, indeed, a difficult challenge that Mr. Saunders eagerly accepted. H e successfully served as field secretary during the most turbulent years of the Civil Rights Movement. In 1984 he donated his extensive personal collection, documenting his work in the NAACP, to the 1


University of South Florida's Special Collections department. Consisting of 37 cubic boxes, the Robert W. Saunders Collection is one of the largest collections ever acquired by Special Collections. About ten years ago, Mr. saunders began writing his memoirs. Over the past decade, his numerous recollections resulted in a descriptive narrative of his experiences with the NAACP. I met Mr. Saunders after I entered the Applied Anthropology gradate program at USF. My advisor, Susan Greenbaum, is a friend of Mr. Saunders. She knew that as an undergraduate I had interned at the Avery Institute of African American History and Culture in Charleston, South Carolina and that I maintained a keen in African American history. I was interested in doing an oral history of people who had been involved in the Civil Rights Movement in Tampa. She suggested that I meet Mr. Saunders and read his manuscript. I remember the day I first met Mr. Saunders. Though he was clearly a friendly person, I was intimidated by his wealth of knowledge. He knew so much about the Civil Rights Movement that I could barely engage in a with him about the movement. I had considered myself well educated on the topic because of my work at the Avery Institute. However, I quickly realized that the dozens of history books I had read as an undergraduate intern had taught me little about the Civil Rights Movement. I also discovered that no 2


history book could ever teach what personal experience does. That day, Mr. Saunders also generously gave me a copy of his unpublished, 300-page typed manuscript. I could not wait to begin reading that afternoon as we concluded our first meeting. The first chapter has become my favorite. One of the most descripti_ve chapters in the manuscript, it recounts Mr. Saunders life growing up in Tampa in the 1920's and 1930's. Unlike many Southern cities during that time, Tampa was ethnically diverse, including large numbers of Cuban, Spanish, and West Indian immigrants. Mr. Saunders' West Tampa neighborhood was integrated, but schools, churches, stores, and all public accommodations remained racially segregated. While reading chapter one, I also learned of Central Avenue for the first time. Central Avenue was the main street in Tampa's local Black business district. Black people were denied service at most White businesses, but they opened their own businesses in a section of Tampa that is north of the present downtown area. Mr. Saunders' detailed descriptions transported me to Central Avenue in the 1930's where he worked as a doorman for the Central Theater. Central Avenue was not without its share of criminal activity. For example, the infamous Charlie 11Moon11 Vanderhorst was a racketeer who ruled Central Avenue during the 1920's until he was gunned down in his store. 3


After reading the first chapter and learning about the severe discrimination Blacks endured just to live in Tampa, I understood why Mr. Saunders was committed to civil rights. I learned how he met Gloster Current, who was Director of Branches in the NAACP at time, and Walter White, then Executive Director of the NAACP. Earlier, I had learned about Walter White's great anti-lynching crusade in the South, so it was exciting to realize that Mr. Saunders was a friend of Walter White. I was aware that Mr. Saunders hoped to get his memoir published. When he and Susan asked me if I would be interested in assisting Mr. Saunders to prepare his manuscript for publication, I accepted the invitation without thinking. Then, when I had time to consider my rash decision, I realized that I had a lot of work ahead of me. Although Mr. Saunders' manuscript contained enormous detail about the Civil Rights Movement in Florida, his memoirs were, like most novice writers, somewhat unorganized, and they reflected the inconsistencies of memory. On the other hand, I had come to appreciate the manuscript, which revealed so much about African American life in segregated Florida and the Civil Rights Movement in Florida. I wanted to help Mr. Saunders, because I realized the value in getting his memoir published. I believ e that African Americans should seiz e more opportunities to write their own history; Mr. Saunders was doing just that. More 4


importantly, I realize how important it was to him to have his work of ten years published. I decided I would support him and offer my assistance in any way that I could. I wrote Charles Cherry who was president of the Florida state Conference at the time. Mr. Cherry had already briefed Mr. Saunders' manuscript. He was in full support of its publication and generously offered me a stipend to edit the manuscript. I began editing the manuscript as part of my internship experience in the gradate program. At first I felt unqualified to review the manuscript because my knowledge of the Civil Rights Movement in Florida was extremely limited. To make matters worse, Mr. Saunders took for granted that the reader understood all of his references. For example, he would mention a name without the person's title, or he would refer to an incident without contextualizing it. Then I realized that if Mr Saunders wanted the general public to appreciate his memoir, who better to edit it than someone who does not know every detail and who might otherwise, like Mr. Saunders, take for granted that the reader is familiar with the material? I spent hours in the USF library and Spe9ial Collections reviewing Mr Saunders' personal papers for notes, letters, pictures, anything that could help me better understand his memoir. I realized that if I was going to edit the manuscript properly, I would have to do extensive background research. As I researched, it became apparent to 5


me that very little research had been done on Florida's civil Rights Movement. Admittedly, there was some scholarly work on individual local movements that occurred in the larger Florida cities, such as Tampa, Tallahassee, and St. Augustine. But, I did not find any that considered the movement in the smaller towns as well as Mr Saunders' manuscript does. Moreover, my research revealed even less history presented by those who made it. The existing histories were written by college professors or graduate students. As a result, I appreciated Mr. Saunders' effort to record his memoirs more than ever. In addition to hours of background research, my editing required me to meet with Mr. Saunders often for clarification. Mr. Saunders and I would meet for hours in the Special Collections department of the USF library. The staff was so used to our working there that they even carved out a work space just for Mr. Saunders and me. It was during these sessions that I really learned of Mr. Saunders' conviction about civil rights, which has diminished in no way since his retirement. Though he recognizes his invaluable contribution to the movement, he contends that Blacks must never stop fighting for their civil rights, for they have yet to achieve them fully. I never grew tired of the stories Mr. Saunders told me over and over again of how the NAACP o vercame Jim Crow. I 6


learned more about the Civil Rights Movement in Florida than I ever could have from reading a textbook. Likewise, I knew he appreciated my assistance, and he constantly told me that he was proud that a young student would want to learn so much about African American history. We had a unique, balanced relationship that overcame the disparity in our age and familiarity of the Civil Rights Movement; though he was my teacher, I was his editor, and we were both each others friend. By the time I had finished editing his memoir, I knew it nearly as intimately as its author. I also became just as eager to see it published. Even though I completed my editorial changes and made suggestions for a more concise, consistent memoir, I was not satisfied. I simply felt that the memoir needed more preparation for possible publication. After sharing this sense of incompleteness with my advisor, she suggested that I help Mr Saunders rewrite the memoir as my thesis. We thought about the idea and acknowledged that a thesis of this sort would be quite unconventional, yet I would still be doing applied anthropology, and Mr. Saunders would have the best chance of getting his memoir published. I decided that the idea could actually work, that is if Mr. Saunders agreed. I knew that Mr. Saunders had spent years writing his memoir; it was very dear to him. And even though I knew he appreciated all of my assistance, I did not know if he would agree to a co-authorship. My respect for 7


Mr. Saunders was so great that I did not want to approach him with the idea, because I did not want to usurp his authority over his work or give him the impression that I was his only hope for publication; after all, neither he nor I write professionally. Yet, I wanted the quality of the memoir to be the best possible, so other people would have the opportunity to learn just I did. I knew that if I did not undertake this more substantial revision, the memoir may never have the opportunity for publication. It took me one week to gain the courage to talk to Mr. Saunders. I explained to him what I considered to be the problem with the memoir. I also explained to him that I was not interested in changing his point of view or tone; I simply wanted to reorganize the memoir, make it more consistent and concise so that readers would follow it easily. I also explained tha t the memoir would be part of my thesis should we co-author it. To my surprise, he agreed with me. He had already considered those same issues and accepted my offer to co-author the memoir. Mr. Saunde r s agreeing to the co-authorship meant more collaboration than before, when I just needed.him for clarification purposes. Now I had to reread the manuscript and rewrite content that was vague or wordy. O n several occasions, I also pulled out material I did not think was necessary. This is when Mr. Saunders and I really disagreed for the first time. In some cases, Mr. Saunders agreed with 8


me, but in other cases he was adamant about maintaining parts of the manuscript I felt were less important. For example, Mr. Saunders included a chapter that profiled his friend and coworker Ruby Hurley. The chapter was only a page long, and I suggested we either simply drop the chapter from the memoir, or distribute the information throughout other chapters. Mr. Saunders did not agree. I realized that he felt obligated to ensure that Ruby Hurley was recognized in her own chapter. I sensed that he respected her work so much that he did not want her overshadowed by other civil rights activists who would be mentioned in other chapters. In the end, we made a compromise in which I agreed to include a separate chapter, and Mr. Saunders would expand the material. (The Ruby Hurley chapter is not included in my thesis, because Mr. Saunders was the sole author of that chapter.) I was also concerned that I maintain his point of view and tone, since these two elements are central to an effective memoir. Thus, the point of view presented in the manuscript is first person, and I have not included my opinions about any of the incidents that he In the same vein, I have tried to maintain the tone presented in the original manuscript, even where I felt that the tone was too subtle, or too harsh. The co-authorship proved to be very trying. Sometimes, I feel that I may have taken more control over the memoir 9


than I should. When Mr. Saunders insisted in his subtle way that text remain the same, I became very frustrated. But, I realized that I had possibly made Mr. Saunders feel threatened that he would lose control over his own work. Recognizing his legitimate need for control over the manuscript, I backed off and allowed the material to remain as he wanted it. Now that the memoir is complete, I feel as though my mission is accomplished. We both hope that the memoir will be published, but we can rest assured that we gave it our best shot. I never knew that meeting Mr. Saunders would make such a difference in my life. In the two years that I have known him, I have come to love him as my friend, teacher, and mentor. 10


CHAPTER 2. REVIEW OF RELATED LITERATURE My work with Mr. Saunders on his manuscript proved to be a somewhat unusual applied anthropological endeavor. One of the traditional roles of the anthropologists has been the preserver of history. While some anthropologists, archaeologists, and museum anthropologists choose to preserve artifacts that represent the past, other anthropologists, such as ethnic historians and oral historians, preserve the past through writing. Although Mr. Saunders and my collaborative effort is not an oral history, in that I did not record then write his story, it represents an endeavor that is consistent with the goals of applied anthropology in advocating to preserve the history of marginalized people. As I reviewed the anthropological literature, I could not find any co-authored works such as Mr. Saunders and mine. Thus, my editing and co-authorship with Mr. Saunders seems to be rare in the anthropological literature. Nevertheless, the manuscript certainly contains elements of life history genres and Florida history. I have, therefore, reviewed anthropological, sociological, and historical literature that is related to Mr. Saunders and my project. 11


I begin with a review of theories of social movements as related to the Civil Rights Movement. I then examine the use of life histories by anthropologists to preserve history. Following this I will address some specific oral histories of the Civil Rights Movement, and finally I will asses specific published studies of the Florida Civil Rights Movement. I do not cite every published account of the movement in Florida, but I have chosen to evaluate those publications that are more closely related to Mr. Saunders' memoir. SOCIAL MOVEMENTS Mr. Saunders' memoir documents what is perhaps the greatest movement in American history. Anthropologists generally have not analyzed social movements as the sociologists have. However, that is not to say that anthropologists have not been involved in assisting in social movements. Anthropologists have, indeed, lent their assistance, particularly to community development projects. I will examine two general theories of social .movements and explain why one has been endorsed more by sociologists and historians who have studied the Civil Rights Movement. Then, I will discuss how applied anthropologists have served as advocates for communities who wanted change. 12


There exist two theories that attempt to explain social movements and change. The first is the classic theory of collective behavior. Promoted by sociologist Herbert Blumer in "Collective Behavior," a paper published in New Outlines For the Principles of Sociology (1949), this theory holds that collective behavior is different from typical organized behavior because collective behavior arises in response to an unusual situation or stress in society, such as urbanization or industrialization (Morris 1984:275 and Button 1989:13). Since the social movement, as purported by the collective behavior theory, i s a reflexive response, theorists claim that collective behavior is spontaneous, unorganized, and emotional (Morris 1984:276). The major criticism of this theory is that it discredits movement participants by suggesting they lack any rational or organizational skills. The other primary theory of social movements is the resource mobilization theory which, unlike the collective behavior theory implies that movement participants must be rational and organized before they participate in any mobilization. As Morris states, "It is the ability of groups to organize, mobilize, and manage valuable resources that determines whether they will be able to engage in social protest" (1989:279). Groups and organizations, such as churches, philanthropic foundation s organized labor, liberal groups, and the federal government presume 13


importance in providing leadership, money, labor, and other necessary resources to marginalized people for an effective social movement according to this theory (Button 1989:14). The theory also holds that outside that these outside organizations are essential to the success of the movement, that since these movements are more political than psychological, "the degree to which social movements are conducive to social change often depends on the level of sustained outside support and the degree of resistance from those in power" (Button 1989:14). Though the resource mobilization theory is often criticized because it emphasizes the role of external organizations in social movements while diminishing that of the internal organization, this theory, historians and sociologists agree, seems more applicable to the Civil Rights Movement (Button 1989, Morris 1984, Goldberg 1991, Oberschall 1973). For example, according to Piven and Cloward (1977), the Civil Rights Movement was successful because Black Americans used their voting power to evoke change. Increased voter registration had always been one of the NAACP primary goals, as the organization recognized that Black power lay in the vote. Indeed, the number of registered Black voters increased from 1.4 millen in 1962 to 2.2 million just two years later (Piven and Cloward 1977:246). Legislatures were forced to adhere to the demands of Black citizens if they wished to maintain their office. 14


Likewise the federal government responded to the direct action protests. For instance, when SCLC planned a major but peaceful protest campaign in Birmingham, Alabama, the Kennedy administration was forced to intervene when over 1,000 marchers, including 959 children were arrested on May 2, 1963 (Piven and Cloward 1977:242). The media was also prompted the federal government into action. Television cameras showed the nation revealed to the nation that peaceful demonstrators were being met with violence as local police sprayed adults and children with high pressured water hoses (Piven and Cloward 1977:242). As a result: Officials in the Kennedy administration, trying desperately to avoid open intervention with all of its attendant political ramifications, unsuccessfully maneuvered behind the scenes to persuade and coerce civil rights activists and Birmingham's political leaders to settle. They brought pressure directly to bear on local officials, and they buttressed it indirectly by including northern leaders in business, industry, religion, philanthropy, law, and other institutional areas to telephone their southern counterparts in Birmingham to urge them to intervene (Piven and Cloward 1977:243). In the end, President Kennedy threatened to federalize the Alabama National Guard and ordered federal troops to calm the mob violence. Thus, Piven and Cloward's analysis of the Civil Rights Movement concurs with Button's claim that the success of social movements is contingent in part upon the exterior agencies that support them The Civil Rights Movement was a rational, well-planned, organized response to the Jim Crow political and cultural regime. Such organizations as the church, organized labor 15


in Florida revealed that the church played a major role in organizing people. Traditionally Black colleges and universities were other outside organizations that gave money and support to the movement as did Black organized labor groups. The last component of the theory, however, that the success of the movement is contingent upon the support offered by outside organizations does not seem to meld with the Civil Rights Movement, at least in Florida. My analysis of the movement in Florida did not indicate that outside organizations determined the strength of the local movements. On the contrary, with the help of the NAACP, most local movements were self-sufficient. Perhaps, that is why the Civil Rights Movement is the greatest grassroots movement in American history. LIFE HISTORY Life history genre--the biography, the autobiography, the oral history, and the memoir--have been employed by anthropologists as well as by historians. The. autobiography, oral history, and memoir are three genres that appeal to the anthropologist because the subjects present their own history from their own perspective which allows for less distortion of history. These life history 16


genres also empower the subjects because they maintain ownership of their history. According to Langness and Frank, the first true life history work by a professional anthropologist is Paul Radin's Crashing Thunder (1926), a biography about a Winnebago Indian (1981:18). In Crashing Thunder, Radin contends that biographical information supplements anthropological accounts of culture (Langness and Frank 1981:18). Anthropologists practicing in America prior to the 1940's were preoccupied with American Indian culture. Their belief in salvage ethnography certainly must have played a role in their use of life histories of American Indians. As a result much of the earlier life histories authored by anthropologists were about American Indians. Later as anthropologists looked Native Americans to other cultures, we see a variety of life histories published for a variety of reasons. Oscar Lewis' Five Families (1959) which inspired The Children of Sanchez {1961) have become oral history masterpieces. From these oral histories, we learn about the subjects' impoverished conditions as they tell us their life histories in their own words. Portraying culture is just one of the reasons the life history has been used by anthropologists; to express culture change is another (Langness and Frank 1981:24). Sidney Mintz' Worker In The Cane (1960) about a poor Puerto 17


Rican man "gives an extraordinarily rich account of cultural and political change" (Langness and Frank 1981:26). Other anthropologists have employed life histories to explore social or cultural change (Langness and Frank 1981:26). In struggle For Change In A Nubian Community, John G. Kennedy contends that neither a person's life nor the society in which she lives can be understood fully without considering both, for individuals shape society (1977:12). Lifehistories are also used to give voice to members of society who would otherwise be ignored and to present the insider's point of view (Langness and Frank 1981:24). For example, in 1948 Rebecca Reyher published Zulu Women and Alice Marriott published Maria: The Potter of San Idlefonso. Up until this point, most life histories had profiled men. Reyher and Marriot's life histories addressed women who had been ignored in most anthropological studies. Finally, by using life history, the anthropologist can attempt to present the insider's point of view. For example, Bengali Women {1975) by Manisha Roy, who is a Bengali anthropologist, gives an insider's perspective, The Civil Rights Movement has not been well researched by anthropologists; thus, I did not find any life histories written by anthropologists about the Civil Rights Movement. As a result, the literature that I have reviewed has been authored by historians. Many of these life histories are 18


oral histories; however, many people who were a part of the civil Rights Movements have written their memoirs documenting their involvement in the movement. I will also briefly mention some of those activists. Within the last decade, several oral histories of the Civil Rights Movement have been published. Unlike traditional histories of the Civil Rights Movement, the oral histories include firsthand accounts of events which really bring the movement alive for the reader. The most comprehensive oral history of the movement is The Eyes On The Prize film series that began production in the late 1970's. This fourteen episode series is divided in two parts. Part one entitled, The Eyes On The Prize: America's Civil Rights Years, 1954-1965, consists of 6 episodes while the remaining eight episodes are included in part two, The Eyes On The Prize: America At The Crossroads, 1965-1985. The series, which has been featured on numerous occasions on PBS, includes footage of interviews with leaders and other participants in the movement. It also includes footage of speeches, marches, sit-ins, pickets, and riots. Then in 1987 The Eyes On The Prize Civil Rights Reader (Carson et. a1) wa s published. This anthology, like the film series, consists of speeches and firsthand accounts of the movement, as well as written documents, such as essays, newspaper articles, letters, and telephone transcripts, dating from 1965-1990 about the movement. 19


Including works by such authors as Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X, Stokley Carmichael, and Nelson Mandela, The Eyes reader, as well as the film series, profile a range of perspectives about the movement. According to Henry Hampton, the executive producer of The Eyes On The Prize: America's Civil Rights Years, 1954-1965, The goal for the public television series and print materials was to capture the American civil rights movement in the voices of those who were there, and thereby give younger citizens who had not lived that struggle, or those who never understood, some idea of the ranging torrents that had engulfed America in the fifties, sixties, and seventies and that became known as the civil rights and black consciousness movements (1990:xii). The Eyes project has inspired even more oral histories of the Civil Rights Movement. In 1990 Hampton and Fayer published Voices Of Freedom: An Oral History of The Civil Rights Movement From The 1950's Through The 1980's. This anthology can be considered a sequel to The Eyes On The Prize because it includes hundreds of oral histories that could not be included in The Eyes film series. Voices includes more firsthand accounts of events by lesser known participants in the movement than The Eyes series. Yet, it also features accounts by famous African Americans, such as Harry Belefonte, Ossie Davis, and Muhammad Ali, who were dedicated to the movement. Both The Eyes On The Prize and Voices Of Freedom attempt to encompass different facets of the movement by highlighting oral histories of people involved in the legal and political 20


David Garrow's three volume set, We Shall Overcome (1989), is a mass collection of documents that offer firsthand accounts of the movement and historical analyses of the Civil Rights Movement. Though Garrow's series includes more analysis than oral history, it deserves attention because many of the works are obscure and have never been published. One of the reasons Garrow edited this anthology was because other histories of the Civil Rights Movement often neglect local, indigenous movements that were not highlighted by the media (1989:xi). For example, Volume III includes an analysis of the Tallahassee bus boycott (Smith and Killian:1958). Though the boycott was a demonstration of strength of the movement, this boycott was not given media coverage like the Montgomery bus boycott. Furthermore, until recently there was little written about the boycott, with the exception of Smith and Killian's report. Their report is perhaps the only source on the Tallahassee bus boycott that was written during time of the Civil Rights Movement. One anthology that documents a local, indigenous movement is Minds Stayed On Freedom {1991). This anthology, consisting of fifteen edited oral history interviews, was authored by fifteen local junior high school students who, after viewing The Eyes On The Prize series, decided they wanted to learn the history of the Civil Rights Movement in 21


their native county, Holmes County, Mississippi (Youth of the Rural Organizing And Cultural Center 1991:2). As a result of their project, the students learned about the Civil Rights Movement from those who participated in the movement. Their efforts empowered the community by allowing members to present their own history. My work with Mr. saunders parallels that of the young teens. First, I too wanted to learn about the local movements in Florida, and like the young oral historians, I am participating in preserving history of African Americans which has often been distorted or ignored. In Tampa, historian Otis Anthony completed an extensive oral history project in which he interviewed some one hundred African American Tampans over the course o f ten years. Several of these interviews include leaders of the local civil rights movement in Tampa. For example, Anthony interviewed Robert Saunders, Robert Gilder, Perry Harvey, Sr., James Hammond, Charles Forte, and others who were very active in the movement. Anthony's oral history project is a valuable contribution to local African A me r ican history and local civil rights history. I should also mention that various leaders of the Civil Rights Move ment have published their memoirs documenting their involvement in the movement. Daisy Bates (1962) was one of the brave students dubbe d "the Little Rock Nine" who integrated Arkansas' public schools. Roy W ilkins (1982) 22


served as the executive director of the NAACP during the civil Rights Movement until the early 1980's. James Farmer {1985} was the founder of CORE. Their are many others who have documented their participation in the movement, but rarely have people who were not in the media published their memoirs. Mr. Saunders' memoir of his participation in the Civil Rights Movement not only contains elements of life history, in that he is telling his story, but it also preserves history by recounting local movements in small Florida towns which otherwise would have remained unknown to the general public. FLORIDA MOVEMENTS Once again I did not find any anthropological literature documenting local movements in Florida. However, there are several historians who have examined local movements in Florida that I would like to note. David Garrow edited St. Augustine, Florida, 1963-1964 {1989}. This edited volume, containing four works about these turbulent years in St. Augustine, attempts to present a multi-faceted view of the movement in St. Augustine. Unlike Mr. Saunders' manuscript, which focuses on the efforts of the NAACP, Garrow's anthology documents the participation of other civil rights organizations, particularly the SCLC, that also played a role in making 23


change in Florida. Robert w. H artley's chapter, "A Long, Hot Summer: The St. Augustine Racial Disorders of 1964." (1989:4-92} examines the role of the NAACP in the Quadricentennial debate, a s does Mr. Saunders' chapter on St. Augustine. Colburn's article, "The st. Augustine Business community," was published both in Garrow's edited volume and in Southern Businessmen And Desegregation (Jacobway and Colburn 1982 } In this article, Colburn disputes the notion that some businessmen were willing to end segregation; he instead contends that most businessmen, particularly in St. Augustine, resiste d desegregation until they were forced to integrate. Colburn is also the author of Racial Change And Community Crisis: St. Augustine Florida, 1877-1980 (1985). Former USF professor, Steven Lawson, has published some on the Civil Rights Movem ent in Tampa A m ong his published works is "From Sit-In To Race Riot: Businessmen, Blacks, And The Pursuit of Moderation i n Tampa, 1960-1967,'' w hich appears in Jacobway and Colburn's Southern B u sinessmen And Desegregation (1982). In this article, Lawson documents the efforts of t h e NAACP Youth Council to desegregate Tampa' s businesses. He also discusses the business community's moderate response t o the Youth Council' s direct action demonstration s Recently, the Florida Humanities Council published a special edition of their history magazine Forum (Winter 24


1994/1995) entitled "The civil Rights Era, 1954-1965." This special edition approaches some of the local movements in some cities, including Tallahassee and st. Augustine. Also included are several profiles of everyday people who helped shape the movement and a profile of Mr. Saunders. Mr. Saunders' memoir documents not only his work in the NAACP and his leadership in the movement, but also the work of others involved in the local movements whose efforts may never be recognized otherwise. Thus, Mr. Saunders' memoir accomplishes two important things. First, it adds to the historical record. Second, as I will expand in the following chapter, his memoir helps fill the void of anthropological research on the Civil Rights Movement. 2 5


CHAPTER 3. IMPLICATIONS FOR ANTHROPOLOGY With the exception of the early ethnographic studies of American Indians, anthropologists traditionally have not studied American culture. Even though now it is not uncommon to find domestic anthropological studies, certain sub-cultures have nevertheless been neglected. For example, African Americans have been studied more by sociologists than anthropologists. In addition, the Civil Rights Movement has not been addressed in anthropological research. Since there are no well known anthropological studies about the Civil Rights Movement, Mr. Saunders' memoir helps fill that void. The memoir has been a valuable life history genre for preserving history in the American culture. The first book published in the United States after independence was Benjamin Franklin's Memoirs (1949). In addition, the earliest documented biographical work on American Indians is Memoir of Catherine Brown, a Christian Indian of the Cherokee Nation (Anderson 1825). The memoir is similar to the autobiography, except that the memoir is a chronicle of events in one's career while the autobiography centers on a person's entire life 2 6


(Langness and Frank 1981:92). In their book, Lives: An Anthropological Approach to Biography (1981:91), Langness and Frank argue that the autobiography has two major advantages over the biography. First, autobiographers have the information at their disposal as opposed to the biographer who has to research the information. Second, because autobiographers are more intimate with the information, they are more aware of the significance of the information and thus better able to maintain the proper perspective when presenting the information. However, this is not to argue that the autobiography is always more accurate because the autobiographer chooses what information to include and delete, and the autobiographer typically does not present opposing viewpoints. Likewise, the memoir may not present multiple p e r spectives. According to Langness and Frank, anthropologists have tended to use life history genres, such as the biography, autobiography, oral history, and memoir for one or more of the following r easons: 1) to describe a culture 2) to describe aspects of culture change 3 ) to describe a culture that has been ignored 4) to present the "insiders" point of view 5) to portray deviants or 6) simply for literary purposes (1981:24). Mr. Saunders' memoir addresses several of these same issues. For example, his memoir describes aspects of African American culture. Not only do we learn about the culture of poor Blacks living in the segregated 27


South, but we learn how living under such conditions the relationships among African Americans in the community. We also learn about the peculiar interactions between Whites and Blacks as a result of the Jim Crow South. In addition, Mr. Saunders' memoir describes social change. He takes us from the 1920's when he was a child in Tampa where the races were strictly segregated in public accommodations to the mid-1960's when the state of Florida had been forced to acknowledge African Americans' civil rights. Life history genres are excellent tools for portraying social change. Hoopes contends, How .. are we to understand social change and social history unless we understand the individual? ... [Life history's) focus on the individual, therefore, should enable it to make a significant contribution to social history (1979:35}. Third, Mr. Saunders' manuscript describes African American culture and history that has been either distorted throughout history or simply ignored. This distortion has lead to stereotypes and reinforced racism. Mr. Saunders' memoir gives voice to marginalized people who played significant roles in the Civil Rights Movement. For example, women and youth, whose contributions to.history are often times ignored, are praised in Mr. Saunders' memoir for their invaluable contributions to the movement. Finally, Mr. Saunders' memoir presents the insider's point of view. One of the reasons Mr. Saunders wanted to write his memoirs was because he believes the role of the 28


only were the NAACP's litigation efforts absolutely necessary to the success of the movement, but the NAACP's direct action protests were another valuable contribution to the movement. Today, many people associate the NAACP with the Brown vs. Topeka Board of Education U.S. Supreme Court case, yet they do not realize that the NAACP sponsored the 1963 March on Washington. In other words, they fail to realize that the NAACP's actions were not restricted to the courtroom. Mr. Saunders hopes that his memoir will, as he always says, "set the record straight" about the NAACP's involvement in the Civil Rights Movement. Furthermore, as we read Mr. Saunders' memoir, we learn about the conflicting emotions of frustration and hope many African Americans felt as they desperately tried to overcome segregation. We learn about the constant threats of violence and economic retaliation, and gain a deeper appreciation of the courage of those who stood up in spite of danger. At the same time, we experience the triumph they experienced as the courts struck down one segregationist legislation after another. The insider's point of view is best presented by those who lived the experiences. Thus, Mr. Saunders' memoir certainly shares qualities of an anthropological life history. My collaboration with Mr. Saunders is difficult to characterize. I did not write a biography, autobiography, oral history, or a memoir about Mr. Saunders. Neither did 29


oral history, or a memoir about Mr. Saunders. Neither did he write his memoir solely without my assistance. Thus, our collaborative effort is quite uncommon. Though this type of collaboration of a life history may be unusual in the discipline of anthropology, my participation in the project remains a legitimate and constructive applied anthropological endeavor. In many ways, my participation with Mr. Saunders resembled that of the advocacy anthropologist as described by van Willigen (1993). According to van Willigen, the advocacy anthropologist acts as a researcher ... to augment and facilitate indigenously designed and controlled social action or development programs by providing data and technical assistance in research, training, and community action to a community through its leadership" (1993:109). The advocacy anthropologist is expected primarily to research and assist, rather than intervene (van Willigen 1993:109), and as van Willigen states, 11 a key concept is collaboration: collaboration between anthropologists and community leadership focusing on the former's research skills and the latter's information needs (1993:110). Mr. Saunders was my agent and I was his consultant. I provided him with the necessary tools: assistance in organization, consistency, and translating knowledge, to develop an effective memoir that would be understood by the general public, not just those involved in the civil Rights Movement. Van Willigen envisions the advocacy anthropologist as someone who can communicate effectively 30


with outside agencies who can meet the needs of the agent (1993:111). Because I am a member of academia and Mr. Saunders is not, I have access to people who would consider his memoir for publication. Van Willigen maintains that an effective advocacy project must be born from effective collaboration (1993:111). There are several factors that are necessary for a successful collaboration. Primarily, there must be trust and a good rapport between the anthropologist and the community, agency, or agent (van Willigen 1993:111). He suggests that least one year is needed for this special relationship to grow. Second, the relationship must be equal. The anthropologist and the agent must respect each other's skills and expertise (van Willigen 1993:112). Third, though the anthropologist and the agent work together, the anthropologist must remember that the community, agency, or agent knows what is best for them. Thus, the anthropologist must allow the agent to maintain control of the project (van Willigen 1993:112). Ultimately, communication between both parties is essential for effective collaboration (van Willigen 1993:112). My relationship with Mr. Saunders met van Willigen's criteria for effective collaborations. I had known Mr. Saunders for at least one year b efore I b egan participating in his memoir project. During the time before we began the memoir, we worked together on other projects, including 3 1


community and historical projects. our work together on these other projects helped us develop a close, trusting relationship. Furthermore, our relationship was equal. Despite our age differences and his knowledge of the civil Rights Movement which far surpassed mine, our relationship was equal because we respected each other's areas of expertise. I realized the importance of allowing Mr. Saunders to maintain control over his memoirs, although I must admit at times this was hard for me to do. Often Mr. Saunders and I did not agree on content and style. If Mr. Saunders did not accept my suggestions, I was forced to accept his choice because ultimately, the project was his. I agree with van Willigen that communication is the most essential component of any collaboration. Mr. Saunders and I constantly shared and considered ideas to improve the memoir. My final task as an advocacy anthropologist, according to Schensul, is to see that the information is disseminated (1973:116). We have been asked by the USF library to enter the memoir on the world wide web. Additionally, most of the memoir will be available as part of my thesis. Mr. Saunders and I hope that the manuscript will be published in its entirety. Both he and I are looking for publishers to review our work. 32


CHAPTER 4. THE NAACP AND THE MOVEMENT From Mr. Saunders' manuscript, one learns about the NAACP's well organized plans of non-violent direct action, which included sit-ins, marches, and chain store pickets and boycotts. He also indicates that the NAACP's Youth Council was just as vital to the organization as was the Legal Defense Fund. While the NAACP attorneys were busy challenging segregationist legislation in the courts, the Youth Council was responsible for many of the direct action protests that aided in the movement. I identified with the fact that young adult college students, like me, had made such a difference in the history of America. Because they courageously opposed Jim Crow culture, today I enjoy many of my constitutional rights. However, what struck me the most was the tension I sensed between the NAACP and other civil r ights organizations. According to Mr. saunders, the NAACP did not have a smooth working relationship with other civil rights organizations, particularly the SCLC. One of his objectives in writing his memoirs was to clarify the importance of the NAACP as distinguished from the other organizations involved in the movement. In the process, one gains understanding of 33


the competitions and tensions that often interfered with solidarity and sometimes threatened the success of the shard goals. The NAACP was founded in 1909 following the famous Niagara Conference,at which a group of human rights activists, including W.E.B. DuBois, decided that there was a great need for an organization which could ensure "that the Constitution be strictly enforced and the civil rights guaranteed under the Fourteenth Amendment to be secured impartially to all." (Current 1988:9). According to the founding document, the NAACP's mission also calls for the organization to ensure that African Americans have equal educational opportunities with Whites, and that the Fifteenth Amendment granting African American men the right to vote was enforced. Though many of the NAACP's founders were White (including Franz Boas, America's premier anthropologist), all members were committed to securing the civil rights of African Americans and other people of color in the United States. Immediately, the NAACP began pursuing its mission by challenging the "grandfather clause" before the U.S. Supreme Court in 1915. The "grandfather clause" was an effective disenfranchisement law that many states passed in order to keep Black men from voting. According to the clause, any man who wanted to register to vote could only do so if his father and grandfather had registered to vote by January 1, 34


.1867 (Franklin and Moss 1988:237). since Black men were not granted the constitutional right to vote until January 8, 1867, it was impossible for them to meet the terms of the "grandfather clause". The case, Guinn v u.s. (1915), became the NAACP's first victory when the Supreme court ruled that the "grandfather clause" violated the Fifteenth Amendment (Watson 1993:455). The NAACP realized that the only way to secure the civil rights of Black Americans was to challenge all segregationist legislation in the courts. Thus, the NAACP legal department, which eventually gave rise to the NAACP Legal Defense Fund, began the in 1935. Charles Hamilton Houston, the Dean of Howard University Law School, became the first director of the NAACP's legal department (Watson 1993:455). Thurgood Marshall, Robert Carter, and Constance Baker Motley were also members; all four attorneys contributed to the Brown vs. Topeka Board of Education (1954) case. The NAACP's legal arm was crucial to the Civil Rights Movement, as it was responsible for overturning numerous segregationist laws and policies. All the demonstrations, boycotts, and sit-ins would have had little effect on state and federal legislatures who were determined to maintain Jim Crow culture in the south, but it was the NAACP's legal strategies that forced legislatures to recognize civil rights for all people. 35


The NAACP is structured in a pyramid style. Local branches make up the smallest unit of the organization, followed by the state conference which includes all local branches. The regional conference includes all branches in a particular geographic region. For example, Florida's branches would be included in the Southeastern Regional Conference. Finally, there is the National Office which encompasses all branches in the entire organization. Florida's local branches were some of the earliest branches to challenge discrimination. As Mr. Saunders' manuscript details, particularly in the Harry T. Moore chapter, as early as the 1940's many Florida branches were involved in the fight for equal salaries for Black teachers who were paid substantially less than their White counterparts. Harry T Moore was a teacher who taught in Brevard County. H e was also the president of the Mims local NAACP branch. Eventually, Moore became the Florida State Conference president even as he continued to fight for equal salaries. Also as State Conference president, Moore, and many other southern state conference presidents, pushed for increased membership and more local branch charters. Under his leadership, the NAACP chartered the most local branches up until that date. Nationwide, the NAACP increased its membership from 50,000 t o 450,000 during the 1940's with most of t h e new member ships from southern states (Fairclough 36


1990:387). Moore also lobbied for anti-lynching legislation in the Florida legislature, campaigned to increase voter registration, and was involved in the NAACP's first law suit against the University of Florida's segregated law school. His commitment to civil rights eventually lead to his and his wife's assassination in 1951. Labor organizers were also vanguards of the movement. According to Fairclough (1990:387) in the 1940's many Blacks participated in the labor movement, although many unions discriminated against Black workers. A Philip Randolph, a Civil Rights Movement pioneer, was the President of the all Black Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters. As president of this union, Randolph threatened President Roosevelt with a march on Washington, which resulted in Roosevelt issuing Executive Order 8802, the Fair Employment Practice Committee (FEPC) (Pfeffer 1990:48). The FEPC declared it illegal for the defense industry to discriminate against race, creed, or color (Franklin and Moss 1988:388). This was the first time in this century that a U.S. president had responded with an executive order for civil rights. As a member of the NAACP, Randolph organized the 1963 March on Washington. Locally, in Tampa, labor union officials also served the NAACP. For example, Perry Harvey, Sr., the president of the local Longshoreman's Union, was a member of the local NAACP branch. 37


Indeed, by the mid-1950's the Civil Rights Movement, led by the NAACP, was already well underway. The NAACP had argued and won many cases which defended the civil rights of African Americans, before the Supreme Court, including Brown vs. Topeka Board of Education (1954), yet many Americans align the birth of the Civil Rights Movement with Rosa Parks' courageous stance in 1955. Often called the "Mother of the Civil Rights Movement," Parks' defiance led to the famous, successful Montgomery bus boycott, which in turn led to the rise of a young Baptist minister, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Thus, the question arises: what was so appealing about Rosa Parks and the Montgomery bus boycott that would persuade many to believe that the Civil Rights Movement existed from then on? One reason may be that the Montgomery bus boycott required mass citizen participation unlike other civil rights demonstrations had done up until that point. Another reason was new expanded media attention that was given to the movement. Though the NAACP was involved in successful law suits that challenged Jim Crow statutes, these suits did not present the opportunity for Blacks to vent their frustration. As watson remarks, The NAACP's programs reflected that intellectual approach; they were not designed to involve the masses as was the bus boycott" (1993:459). Bus boycotts were activities that everyone could participate in, not just attorneys and plaintiffs. And with the 38


increased popularity of televisions in the home the Montgomery bus boycott became the first time the nation observed Black citizen's commitment to securing their civil rights. I do not fully agree with Watson because the NAACP has always been involved in direct action protests, including the Montgomery bus boycott. The bus boycott was adopted by the Montgomery Improvement Association after Dr. Martin Luther King joined the movement. The NAACP had been banned from practicing in Alabama as of June, 1956 (Wexler 1993:77}. Hence the rol e of the NAACP in the success of the boycott has been underestimated. However, the bus boycott was conceived by E.D. Nixon, the president of the Montgomery, Alabama branch (Wexler 1993:69); Rosa Parks was a member of the Montgonery NAACP branch's executive board, and ultimately, the boycott was successful because the NAACP challenged segregated intra-city transportation before the Supreme Court and won (Watson 1993:459). In other words, contrary to what sone may believe, the bus boycott did not end solely because the city suffered a great economic loss. Only after legislation mandated that intra-city transportation be integrated and only after having received a court order, did the city of Montgomery move to end segregated seating on the buses (Watson 1993:459). Following the success of the Montgomery bus boycottw Tallahassee's Black residents engaged in a bus boycott fiwe 3 9


months later (Morris 1984:63). The NAACP was not directly involved in the Tallahassee bus boycott because some, according to the boycott's organizer C.K. steele, believed the NAACP would be enjoined from practicing in Florida as it had been in Montgomery as a result of numerous civil rights protests (Morris 1984:65). Rather than risk the loss of the NAACP, the Inter-civic Council, with steele as president was organized to manage the Tallahassee bus boycott. Though the Tallahassee boycott did not receive media attention comparable to the Montgomery bus boycott, the Tallahassee boycott successfully brought together thousands of Blacks in opposition to segregation. The NAACP participated in other mass demonstrations, such as marches, sit-ins, and chain store pickets. Mr. Saunders recounts the March on Tallahassee in his manuscript. This march was organized by the NAACP when Reverend C.K. Steele was president of the local branch. Many of the march's participants were students at Florida A&M College who decided to march in protest of segregated public facilities and other form s of discrimination. Like the Tallahassee bus boycott, the strength of the march lay in its ability to draw thousands of Black people together to fight discrimination. The 1963 Marc h on washington had been conceived by A. Philip Randolph some twenty-two years prior when he threatene d President Roosevelt with a march on the Lincoln 40


Memorial. Because Roosevelt conceded, the march did not materialize, but on August 8, 1963, Randolph's dream march became a reality, indeed, as some 250,000 people marched on Lincoln Memorial, demanding an end to racial discrimination (Pfeffer 1990:254). Even though the march was hosted by the NAACP, the march is overwhelmingly associated with Dr. Martin Luther King. Although he was only a guest speaker at the march, it was there that he recited his famous ''I have A Dream" speech. Nevertheless, the March on Washington was probably the most successful mass demonstration sponsored by the NAACP during the Civil Rights Movement. Sit-ins also allowed for active participation. The sit-ins were most often employed by the NAACP Youth Council. Many people believe that the first sit-in was the famous Greensboro sit-in in 1960, when four North Carolina A&T students sat down at a segregated Woolworth lunch counter and asked to be served. However, there were earlier sit-ins in several southern states in the 1950's. Many of these sit-ins included Youth Council participants (Morris 1984: 189). The "Greensboro Four," as the four gentlemen became known were former members of the Durham NAACP Youth Council (Morris 1994:198); thus, they were familiar with sit-in demonstrations and had received instruction from the NAACP. Nevertheless, following their sit-in, which received a fair amount of media converge, sit-ins exploded in the South. 41


Like other local branch youth councils, Tampa's Youth council was committed to dissolving segregation in public accommodations. Mr. Saunders' memoir revisits the strengths of the Youth Council. He also recalls some of the more successful youth sit-ins and protests. For example, we learn from his memoir about the courageous Jacksonville youth who took on the Ku Klux Klan during one of their peaceful demonstration marches. Chain store picketing was another effective protest action that allowed for broad participation. In Tampa and Jacksonville, the Youth Council was heavily involved in store picket protests. From Mr. Saunders' manuscript, we learn how the Youth Council effectively opened movie theaters and restaurants to Blacks as a result of their pickets. Though the NAACP was involved in civil rights activity from its inception, we really do not see mass citizen participation until the bus boycotts, marches, and sit-in demonstrations. This is mainly because there was not an opportunity for the masses to join the movement collectively until the bus boycotts began. Although the NAACP was the first civil rights organization, other civil rights organizations soon joined the movement. In the next chapter, I shall briefly explain the relationship between the NAACP and SCLC, CORE, and SNCC. I will examine why there was competition between the NAACP and these groups and 42


why there is a sense of bitterness from the older NAACP leaders in regard to the other organizations' participation in the Civil Rights Movement. 43


CHAPTER 5. THE NAACP, SCLC, SNCC, AND CORE Chartered in 1909, the NAACP remains the oldest surviving association organized to secure the civil rights of African Americans. Armed with an experienced, determined legal defense team, the NAACP's major contribution to the Civil Rights Movement was legal and political. Many members of the NAACP were Black professionals who had obtained higher education; thus the NAACP became identified as an elitist organization, even though the primary mission of the organization was to fight for the equal rights of all African Americans. Consequently, it is not surprising that the NAACP encountered competition from other civil rights organizations which appealed more to workers and nonprofessionals. The Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC), the Student Non-violent Coordinating Committee {SNCC), and the congress on Racial Equality (CORE) filled a void in leadership where the NAACP had either been banned from practice or failed to meet the needs of impatient civil rights activists. The SCLC is a church based organization that began in 1957. With at least five of its first executive board having been either current or former m embers of the NAACP 4 4


(Morris 1984:87), the SCLC had close ties to the NAACP at least early in the organization's (SCLC) history. Former NAACP field secretary, Ella Baker was one of three people who conceived the SCLC, when they noted that there was a need for another organization to supplement the activities of the NAACP (Morris 1984:83). The NAACP had, after all, been suspended from practice in several southern states, and people were losing faith in the organization since the Brown decision had little or no immediate effect on ending racial discrimination (Watson 1993:459). Several southern ministers were invited to participate in the initial organizational meeting that was held at Martin Luther King, Sr.'s Atlanta church (Morris 1984:83). Reverend C.K. Steele of Tallahassee was among the delegates at this first meeting. He contended that since the church had served as the nucleus of many protests, it seemed logical that a church based organization that could assist the NAACP in its endeavors (Morris 1984:85). Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. became the first president of SCLC. SCLC did not offer individual membership; rather, it was an organization made of smaller, local protest groups who needed the strength and support of a larger organization. The SCLC gave these organizations that, otherwise would have been vulnerable to White supremacist organizations, a collective conscience and voice. With the 45


charismatic Dr. King as its leader, the SCLC attracted many working class Blacks and, more importantly, the media. The relationship between the NAACP and the SCLC was strained. Even though the SCLC was closely connected with the NAACP in the beginning, the two organizations eventually grew apart, especially after the SCLC began to engage in its own civil rights demonstrations. The NAACP did not welcome the new organization for several reasons. First, the NAACP was the oldest national organization whose mission was to protect Black civil rights, and it wanted to maintain its monopoly over the Civil Rights Movement (Morris 1984:122). Reverend Joseph Lowery, an official in SCLC, recalls: We met with strong opposition from the NAACP. Well, the thing got so bad that Martin, Ralph [Abernathy] and I went to New York and had a meeting with Roy Wilkins [then NAACP Executive Secretary], John Marshall [then Assistant to the Executive Secretary], and Gloster Current [then Director of Branches]. [We] met half the day and night. Roy was very sophisticated, you know. He wouldn't dare show any antipathy. John Morsell was a bit more matter-of-fact, but Gloster was the hatchet man. Gloster said, "To tell you the truth, gentlemen, at the end of the bus boycott, you all should have disbanded everything, and b een bac k in NAACP." (Morris 1984:121). Another reason that the NAACP refused to endorse the SCLC was fear of losing membership and credibility in the Black community. In those states in which the NAACP had been suspended, local activists joined other organizations, like the Montgomery Improvement Association, which became a member of the SCLC. Of course, there was nothing the NAACP 46


could do about that. However, the NAACP's membership was still threatened because NAACP leaders from states in which the NAACP had not been enjoined, such as Reverend C.K. Steele who was the president of the Tallahassee branch, nevertheless, were becoming quite active in the SCLC. As Morris notes, "it became unclear whether the leaders on whom the NAACP had relied in the past would shift their allegiance to the new organization" (1984:122). Moreover, people associated the NAACP with the Brown decision, which at the time of SCLC's formation had no effect on the majority of segregated school systems. As a result, people began to see the NAACP as a slow paced organization: "Although African Americans considered the Brown decision a victory, the slow enforcement of the decision led impatient young African Americans to reject the NAACP's leadership in civil rights" (Watson 1993:459). Frustrated and ready for change, they opted for the SCLC's charismatic and emotional movement. Finally, the NAACP and the SCLC had a strained working relationship because the SCLC had the benefit of media attention. The SCLC, like the NAACP, participated in marches, sit-ins, and pickets. However, since the SCLC was led by Dr. King, who demanded attention, its protest movements received the media converge that the NAACP's protests did not. This, of course, gave the impression to the masses that the NAACP was not working quickly enough to 47


procure Black civil rights. But, the NAACP was active indeed. The organization continued its protests, voter registration drives, and most importantly, its legal contributions to the movement. Watson (1991) claims that Dr. King's leadership, which appealed to people's emotions, overshadowed the NAACP's significant litigation efforts. As a result, many gave Dr. King credit that is unwarranted, for without the NAACP challenging segregationist laws before the courts, Dr. King's emotional appeal would have mattered very little in the face of die-hard segregationist legislatures. 1957 also marked the year that CORE began operating in the South. Although the organization was founded in 1942, it was a northern based organization that had no influence in the South (Morris 1984:129). The organization was intellectually and philosophically concerned with the social problem of racial inequality, and it also espoused nonviolent action, as did the NAACP and SCLC (Morris 1984:129). CORE's membership was young and had always from its inception included White civil rights activists. Though CORE also participated in sit-ins and marches, the organization was well known for its freedom rides. The purpose of freedom rides was to test the civil rights legislation that courts had passed. For example, in the U.S. Supreme court case Boynton v. Virginia (1960), the court ruled that bus and train terminals could not racially 48


segregate, just as buses and trains could not segregate (Wexler 1993:114). One of CORE's principal founders, James Farmer, explained, "Our intent was to provoke the southern authorities into arresting us and thereby prod the Justice Department into enforcing the law of the land" (Wexler 1993:115). On several occasions, the freedom riders encountered White mobs who violently attacked them. Nevertheless, they continued courageously to challenge Jim Crow. In Mr. Saunders memoir we learn that CORE had established a charter on the Florida A&M campus. According to Mr. Saunders, the young members in CORE were impatient and somewhat militant. In the Tallahassee chapter, we learn that they even threatened to sabotage the March on Tallahassee in their eagerness to protest the White power structure. SNCC was closely related to SCLC. Ella Baker, who had once conceived of SCLC, envisioned in 1960 an organization of younger adults who could participate in direct, nonviolent action. On April 15, 1960, student delegates from Southern Black colleges convened for three days at Shaw University in Raleigh, North Carolina where they discussed their common experiences as participants in sit-in demonstrations (Wexler 1993:112). The result of this meeting was the student Non-violent Coordinating Committee. SNCC had the direct support of SCLC as it organized a more 49


structured sit-in effort. SNCC was not as active in Florida as it was in states in which the SCLC had a vast membership. Although the NAACP was the major thrust of the civil Rights Movement, it is important to remember that all four organizations played an intricate role in procuring the civil rights of African Americans. All four of the organizations recognized the need to demonstrate and to increase voter registration. Because the SCLC under King's leadership commanded media attention, the nation observed African Americans' passionate fight for equality. Despite the scant media attention that was afforded to the NAACP, the work of the NAACP's legal department cannot be underestimated. In a speech Dr. King recited at an NAACP Freedom Fund dinner, he acknowledged that non-violent action: does not minimize works through the courts. But it recognizes that legislation and court orders can only declare rights; they can never thoroughly deliver them. Only when the people themselves begin to act are rights on paper given life blood. A catalyst is needed to breathe life experience into a judicial decision by the persistent exercise of the rights until they become usual an ordinary in human conduct (Watson 1993:463). CORE became that catalyst as its volunteers the South testing the decisions of the courts. Indeed, the Civil Rights Movement was a collaborative effort fought by people who shared a common goal. 50


PART TWO CHAPTER 1. INTRODUCTION: A CONTINUING STRUGGLE FOR FREEDOM The history of the struggle for first class citizenship in Florida began with the landing of Spanish explorers. In 1492, Pedro Alonso, believed to be a Negro by many scholars, landed with Columbus on islands below the southernmost tip of Florida. Other Spanish explorers like Ponce de Leon, Balboa, Cortes, Pizarro, and Menendez, all had Black craftsmen and soldiers as members of their crews. Estevanico, a Moorish slave, was one of the original party of Spanish explorers who landed in Tampa Bay in 1528. He is credited with the discovery of Zuni Pueblo in 1539 and territories which comprise the several states of Arizona and New Mexico. As Florida grew, so did its Black population. By 1860 there were 62,677 persons of African decent in Florida. The population continued to grow until 1960 when this group then numbered 880,186. The estimated African American population in 1990 exceeded one million. Notwithstanding today's large population, Black Floridians are still victims of institutionalized discrimination. 51


St. Augustine became the center for the slave trade in Florida. The city's slave mart has always been a center of protest even during the student protests of the 1960's. Near the city of St. Augustine is the site o f an old settlement that was founded by former slaves. Archaeologists are still digging the ruins and unearthing relics of the past that give us clues about what life must have been like for the inhabitants. In 1738 the Spanish established a small group of "run away'' slaves in what the state of Florida describes as Gracia Real De Santa Teresa De Mose. Ft. Mose, as it is known, was recently recognized by the state as a state park. During the recognition ceremony held at the State Capital, the Honorable Bill Gunter, a member of the Florida Cabinet, gave credit to Ft. Mose slaves who fought to defend St. Augustine against the British who were attempting to invade St. Augustine in the 1700's. It is established that during the efforts to conquer the Seminole tribe, the ranks of the Indian warriors were increased by large numbers of escaped slaves. These slaves fought side by side with their Indian allies against American soldiers. In Tampa an ex-slav e woman born in South Carolina o wned much land bordering the Hillsborough River. My mother, the late Christine saunders, told me of this woman who contributed funds and donated land to church groups. It is 52


believed that Fortune Street, now Laurel Street, was named in her honor. During the Reconstruction period, African Americans, such as Robert Gabriel of Key West, represented legislative districts in the Florida Legislature. The most famous of Florida's Black officials, however, was Jonathan c. Gibbs. Gibbs was highly respected as an intellectual and an educator. Born in Philadelphia, Gibbs was educated at Dartsmouth and Princeton Universities. One writer, Dr. William D. Davis, wrote that Gibbs was probably the most cultured member of the 1868 convention held in Florida shortly after the end of the Civil War. In 1868 Governor Harrison Reed appointed Gibbs as Secretary of State of Florida. Later Governor Ossian Hart appointed him Superintendent of Public Instruction. He served in this position until his mysterious death in 1878. Historians have given little mention to Black troops garrisoned in Tampa when the United States was preparing to invade cuba in 1898. These soldiers resented the racist treatment they received while waiting to be sent to Cuba. Accounts of the Rough Riders and Colonel Theodore Roosevelt glorify the all White units. But, the shameful manner in which Whites treated the Black veterans of the Indian Wars and the Black conquerors of the West is forgotten. These same Black troops were the ones who protected the Rough 53


Riders from being slaughtered by their Spanish enemy as they charged up San Juan Hill. students of history are just beginning to learn about the killings of Black soldiers during the civil War by rebel soldiers in Live Oak, Madison, and other counties on Florida's west border. They ask how could a law enforcement officer in Monticello murder an innocent Black farmer and go unpunished, and they wonder how a Black man could be burned alive in Taylor County as a "Nigger" hungry White mob vied for parts of his body to sell as souvenirs? In the face of all of these atrocities, Black Floridians must ask themselves if they enjoy the full benefits of the Nation's promises to all of its citizens? Furthermore, they ask how far have we advanced and is there still more to be done in correcting the evils of the past? Florida has produced its share of great Black Americans. It is shameful to say that many Black students do not know the accomplishments of two brothers, James Weldon and Rosemond Johnson. Born in Jacksonville, these men rose to fame as composers and authors. Their most famous work is the Negro National Anthem. James Weldon Johnson became a field secretary for the NAACP and served as its first Black Executive secretary. Mention the name A. Philip Randolph, and some students respond with blank stares. Yet, Randolph is one of the greatest civil rights pioneers of this century. E ven NAACP leaders in Escambia 54


County are not aware that Robert L. Carter, former General counsel of the NAACP was born in that county. The names of the martyred Harry T. Moore and His wife Harriet are not given the respect they deserve though their deaths spurred the beginning of the Civil Rights Movement even before the Montgomery bus boycott. Crandall Warren, a native of Mims, Florida and associate of Moore tells how Moore first learned of the NAACP. A relative of Warren's to the small east coast town told Moore about the work of the NAACP. Warren states that once Moore learned of the NAACP's goals and objectives, he (Moore) remarked, "this is the kind of organization we need.'' Moore was instrumental in organizing the first branch of NAACP in Brevard County. The results of his work in that county led to his and his wife's dismissal from the segregated school system in north Brevard County. I consider myself fortunate to have been recruited by Gloster Current, Director of NAACP branches, to follow in the footsteps of Harry T. Moore. As I look back to the year 1952 when I joined the NAACP national staff, I realize that my writing this memoir is more like a bridge between the old guard and younger persons who do not know the "fight for freedom." I was fortunate to meet most of the leaders who faced the dangers and who paved the way for all of us to enjoy freedom as we know it. 55


When names like A. Philip Randolph, Hubert T. DeLaney, Walter White, Jackie Robinson, Mrs. Mary McLeod Bethune, Roy Wilkins, Thurgood Marshall, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Mrs. Rosa Parks, Medgar Evers, Ruby Hurley, and many others are mentioned, I am able to give first hand accounts about each of them to younger people. Looking through the many reports and letters saved in my collection, I realized that perhaps I am the one person who could best talk about the incidents and the many Black leaders in and out of the state of Florida who risked everything to overcome discrimination. I did not realize the significance of these papers and reports until I was approached by the author of a book about Dr. Martin Luther King. He had seen my report on the early days of the St. Augustine struggle. Persons like Charles Cherry, Dr. Gilbert L. Porter, and staff of the Universities of South Florida and Florida A&M also encouraged me to put it all on paper before it is too late. In my memoir, I will expand further on the work of Harry T. Moore, Noah Griffin, and Edward D. Davis and their efforts to equalize economic conditions for Black teachers. The organized efforts of the large and small branches will be mentioned. The belief that the only approaches used by the NAACP to fight against racial inequalities were legal challenges will be debunked. As Roy Wilkins reminded us, 56


the only way to end discrimination is to utilize every legal tool available and to attack it from all fronts. I write about the Tampa story and the branch's efforts to make Urban Renewal workable. The work of the Youth Councils in Jacksonville, Tampa, and Ft. Lauderdale, must be mentioned as well as the leadership provided by the Florida A&M University college chapter and, of course, the March on Tallahassee. It is impossible discuss every action and to include the names of everyone who made history in the Civil Rights Movement in Florida. It would also take a great effort to record every case the Association was involved in or mention the main players of all the cases. I hope that I will highlight those cases that have made precedence in Florida just as I have acknowledged the people who made it possible for Florida's citizens to overcome. 57


CHAPTER 2. ROBERT W. SAUNDERS: A PROFILE I was born in Tampa, Florida on June 9, 1921 in a section known as Roberts City. J. W. Roberts, for whom the section was named, owned a cigar factory located on Garcia Avenue and Roberts Streets. My family had neighbors from a variety of ethnic groups, including Cuban and Italian as well as Black and Caucasian families. The neighborhood children played together, ate in each other's homes, fought each other, and protected each other. Even though we were a close community, Florida's segregation laws and traditions prohibited us from attending the same school, eating in the same restaurants, or even from drinking from the same water fountain. On Sunday morning, my friends attended the White Baptist church on North Boulevard and Green Streets while my family attended one of the traditional Black churches in Tampa. Though I was denied many of the same opportunities as my White friends, I have fond memories of childhood in Tampa. The first school that I attended was the old West Tampa Elementary School on Green Street and Fremont Avenue. I remember my first classroom, a corrugated tin structure that was behind a four room wooden building which housed the 58


upper grades. My first teacher was named Ms. Higgins. The only toilet was in an outhouse behind my classroom. Then, in 1927 the new West Tampa School, now known as Dunbar Elementary School, was opened on Main street and Rome Avenue. This new building was brick and contained eight classrooms. My teacher was Mrs. Susie Lester, wife of one of the few Black postmen in Tampa. In 1929 My family moved to New York City. There, I attended Public Schools 103 and 48. As New York schools were racially integrated, this was the first time I had classmates of various ethnic and religious backgrounds. I attended Harlem Elementary School when I returned to Tampa in 1931. In the late 1920's Booker T. Washington Senior High School was built and was the first high school for Black Tampans. Booker T. Washington accepted students starting at the junior high school level and offered vocational training for adults at night. Then in the 1935 Middleton High School was built. The school was named after George S. Middleton, who was a Black postman in Tampa and one of the founders of the Central Life Insurance Company. This was the first school for Black pupils that had a playground and a library. Following the opening of Middleton High, Booker T. Washington became a junior high school. I completed my junior high years at Booker T. Washington and ironically part of my high school years as 59


well. By the time I was ready for high school, Middleton High had opened but was closed as a result of a fire. Thus, while Middleton was being rebuilt, high school was taught at Booker T. Washington. High school students went to school in the morning and junior high school students attended classes in the afternoon from 12:30 to 5:00. I remember that one year we went to school six days a week to make up for lost time. Unlike Black students, White students never attended overcrowded schools that had to offer double sessions to accommodate all the students. I remember many of the teachers who taught at Booker T. Washington when I was a student there: Mrs. Frankie Thompson, Ms. Frankie Berry, Mrs. Anna Broughton, Ms. Helen Wilson, Paul Sheehy, Ms. Hilda Turner, Mr. E.E. Rolfe, Mrs. Olga Rolfe Blood, Mr. Howard W. Blake, Mr. Garland V. Stewart, Mr. G.B. Brison, Mr. Chester Seaberry, and Mr. J.W. Lockhart, who coached the football teams and did everything possible to encourage us to remain in school. These teachers did miraculous work in second class conditions. Booker T. Washington had long since abandoned its high school band when I entered 7th grade, but in the school received funding from the Federal Works Program Administration (FWPA) to teach some of the students how to play musical instruments. Captain W. Carey Thomas, a former band master at Florida A&M College was our instructor. He was assisted by Rufus Spencer, a trumpet player. I recall 60


that our band marched in Plant city's Strawberry Festival in 1934 or 1935. This was a bout 30 years before any Black high school band was allowed to march in Tampa's annual Gasparilla Parade. Our band also played at the building dedication for the Clara Frye Hospital. Clara Frye was a Black nurse in Tampa who operated the only hospital for Black Tampans. The two story structure was built with aid from FWPA funds and was located on Mitchell Street near Estelle Street. The FWPA was also responsible for the only choral group that performed in Tampa. Mrs. Faith McQueen Coleman, who taught piano and voice lessons from her home on Green Street, was its director. Her assistant was Bill Anderson, an accomplished pianist who played everything form ragtime to Bach. From the band and choral group, sprang many young musicians some of whom became nationally known. From 1938 to 1940 I worked as a doorman at the Central Theater located on Central Avenue. I worked from 4:30 to closing seven days a week for four dollars a week. For a while, the only other Black motion picture theaters were the Plaza Theater on 7th Avenue that was owned operated by the Afro-Cuban Marti Maceo Club. The Plaza was destroyed by fire. The other theater was the Campo Bella theater on 29th Street in Belmont Heights, but neither could really compete with the Central Theater. Working on Central Avenue, I 61


became acquainted with at least 75% of Tampa's Black population. Central Avenue and its immediate vicinity in Tampa was the "maindrag" for Black entertainment and services. There were restaurants, barber and beauty shops, two pawn shops, pool halls, ballrooms, fraternal organizations, and a hotel for Tampa's Black visitors built in 1914 by Robert Mugge, a White developer. Later this hotel was renamed Rogers Hotel after, G.D. Rogers who was one of the founding members and presidents of Central Life Insurance Company. When a Black investment group bought the hotel, they renamed the hotel the Pyramid Hotel. Located in the vicinity of Central Avenue were the offices of Black doctors, dentists, and Z.D. Greene, who was also known as Colonel Greene. Mr. Greene was only Black attorney in Tampa until the 1930's. Mr. Greene supplemented the limited income from his law practice by teaching school. The first Black uniformed police officers employed by the Tampa Police Department were allowed to patrol only on Central Avenue, and like other cities of the Jim Crow South, they could only arrest Black offenders. In West Tampa, there were bars called Happy Tony, Roberts city Zanzibar, and the Brittwood Ballroom. There were bars like these all over Tampa that were usually managed by Italians or Cubans. However, on Central Avenue most establishments were owned and managed by Black people. 62


Two of the popular bars on Central Avenue were the Watts Sanderson Blue Room and Red Lion. We used to call the Red Lion the "Bucket of Blood" because there were so many brutal fights there. Charles Vanderhorst, who was better known as Charlie Moon, owned the Apollo Ball Room which had a bar and gambling room located on Central and Harrison Streets. Charlie Moon had accumulated a great deal of wealth operating his own Bolita house. Bolita was a numbers game in which everyone, regardless of age could play a number ranging from one to one hundred. The pay off was four dollars for every nickel of the number you bet would be pulled from a bag which held the numbered balls. Even at the young age o f eleven, I, like every other kid in the neighborhood, knew how the gambling games operated. Each night at 9:00, each Bolita house manager would choose a number by shaking the bag, tying a string around the particular ball, and cutting the sack. This number became the number for that particular "throwing." There were a number of such Bolita houses, usually located in bars. The number for each house would be posted on a large board painted black with the name of the particular house. There was a way in which these houses networked with each other. It did not take long for the players to realize what number had been pulled by all the houses. 63


It was believed that the entire racket was controlled by a man named Charlie Ball and that the Mafia wanted control. Charlie Moon was the only Black man who ran a Bolita game. He and other Bolita operators made thousands from poor Blacks trying to supplement their menial incomes. On the other hand, Charlie Moon was known to have provided soup kitchens for poor, hungry people who were victims of the Great Depression. Like other Bolita operators Charlie Moon had to pay off crooked politicians and police officers. But Charlie Moon did not last long. Pearl McAden, a Black law enforcer, was determined to nail Charlie Moon. As children we were deathly afraid of the mean McAden whom we believed would have killed his own mother had a white man ordered him to do so. One night shortly after Moon had closed his numbers operation for the night, Pearl entered the back room which served as an office and fatally shot Moon. Moon did not even have the opportunity to secure that night's profits in the safe. Gamblers attacked the safe and it was rumored that even some of his closet friends rushed to get as much cash as they could. The safe was practically cleaned out by the time the police arrived. Within a few months, several Black men opened businesses. Yet no one questioned where they had obtained the funds to invest in their business. However, it was common knowledge that Charles "Moon" Vanderhorst in death was the primary investor. 64


Charlie Moon was not Pearl McAden's onl y victim. He murdered another Black businessman, Stubb c. Pughsley, for no apparent reason. Pughsley was a licensed funeral director and embalmer whose business was located on Jefferson Street. C. Blythe Andrews, Sr. wanted to see McAden convicted for these murders. He used his paper, the Florida Sentinel to protest McAden's actions. Finally McAden was convicted and sentenced to prison. Part of his sentence included exile from Tampa following his prison term. Years later when McAden escaped from prison Andrew's paper headlined the story and kept Tampa abreast of McAden's whereabouts. However, McAden died without ever returning to Tampa. There is much to write about Tampa. My friends and family provided me with a happy childhood. Nevertheless, I was bitter from the injustices of segregation. I experienced the "Colored" and "White" water fountains. As a boy, I could not sit on benches in front of S.H. Kress Department Store. I saw White officers violate Black people's civil rights as they entered their homes unlawfully. I hated the Florida State Fair because Tuesdays, the only day I could attend, was "Colored Day." And I detested the Tampa Daily Times that ran a "Colored" page edited by George carr, who was a former Black educator. Therefore, my quest to obtain and to enforce civil rights for African Americans started as early as my teen 65


years when a group of us who attended Middleton High School .in 1938 destroyed street car signs that read "White passengers will sit from front to rear; Colored passengers will sit from rear to front." After I graduated from Middleton High School, I was accepted to Bethune Cookman College on a football scholarship. However, shortly thereafter I was drafted into the Army. When I returned to Tampa four years later, I briefly reported for the Florida Sentinel before I moved to Cincinnati where I worked for a newspaper called the Post. Finally, I settled in Detroit where I completed my Bachelors of Arts degree at the Detroit Institute of Technology which is now Lawrence Technological University. I continued my work in civil rights as I volunteered for the Detroit branch of the NAACP. L. Kern, who was Director of Branches at the time, was in the office when I jokingly asked him and Cluster Holmes if the NAACP was hiring. A week later the national office sent me a telegram inviting me to interview in New York with Gloster B. current, the Director of Branches, and Walter White, the Executive President of the NAACP. Two weeks later I was on my way to New York to work for the NAACP. Walter White knew that I was native to Florida, and recently Florida's State Conference Executive Secretary, Harry T. Moore had been assassinated with his wife on Christmas. Florida's Blac k residents feared for their 6 6


lives; NAACP membership and civil rights activities .decreased significantly. Furthermore, Florida's governor, Bill Warren, accused Walter White and other NAACP officials investigating Moore's death as being Harlem agitators trying to stir up problems for Floridians. White sent me to Florida to resolve matters with the local branches and the governor, and I became Harry T Moore's successor in the spring of 1952. People often ask me was I afraid to succeed Moore because he was assassinated. Now as I reflect, I realize that I was not as much afraid as I was concerned about reestablishing the work of the NAACP and rebuilding confidence in Black Floridians. I established my horne base in my native Tampa, and from there I traveled throughout Florida for the next seven years fighting for the civil rights of Black Floridians. 6 7


CHAPTER 3. HARRY T. MOORE: PROFILE OF A MARTYR FOR CIVIL RIGHTS I will always believe that the turning point in the struggle to end racial segregation and the Jim Crow mentality that existed in the South began after Harry T. Moore and his wife Harriet were brutality murdered in their home on their 25th wedding anniversary, Christmas night 1951. I also believe that Moore lived his life knowing death was just around the corner because he so actively opposed racial discrimination in Florida. A prolific writer, Moore constantly wrote to elected and appointed officials protesting lynchings, police brutality, prison abuse, unequal working conditions and salaries, and the deplorable conditions of the schools attended by Black students. Moore and his wife were both educators in Brevard County. He pressed for equal salary for Blac. k teachers and professors, and he became heavily involved in the original University of Florida desegregation suit in 1947. "Professor" Moore, as he was affectionately called by his students, was incensed by the discrimination Black teachers and students faced. All Black schools were inferior to 6 8


those attended by White students. The facilities, .furniture, and teaching materials were all unfit to provide a decent education for Black students. Extracurricular activities and recreational programs were standard in the White schools but a luxury in the Black schools even though they were barely funded in the Black schools. Black teachers and professors in higher education were paid substantially less than their White counterparts. However, after Governor Fred P. Cone was approached about raising the salary of Black professors at Florida A&M so that they would be equal to that of White professors at the other state universities, the Governor, an avid segregationist, responded, "no nigger ... in the state of Florida is worth $5,000 a year." Moore served as the executive secretary of the Florida State Conference from 1941-1946. During that time, he worked with other Black leaders, including Edward Davis and Noah Griffin, to eliminate Florida's "Lily White Democratic Primaries" and pushed for increased voter registration for Black citizens. In his November 15, 1945 letter to the newly organized Progressive Voters League, Moore questioned Black citizens' decision to vote traditionally Republican: As we go about trying to help organize local units of the Progressive Voters League, this important question rises: Should Negroes register as Republicans or Democrats? This question sometimes precipitates heated arguments, because in practically every community you will find some staunch Republicans and some loyal Democrats. 69


In our attempt to clarify this question, we should like to ask few other questions ... Are Negro citizens of Florida suffering more from discriminatory practices of local officials or of national officials? Who are more directly responsible for the inequalities in educational opportunities, the lynchings, the police brutality, and other injustices suffered by Negroes, our state and county officials or the administration in Washington? All of these evils can be traced directly to the prejudiced attitude of local officials. Negro teachers are paid less than White teachers with the same qualifications because the county superintendents an school boards have so arranged it. Jesse Payne was lynched on October 10, 1945, because the Madison County Sheriff permitted it. Who controls the election of these state and county officials, the Republicans or Democrats? Regardless to our party beliefs, we must now face the facts. And the fact is that practically every city, county, and state official in Florida is always selected in the Democratic Primaries. In order to help select these officials, Negroes must vote in the Democratic Primaries, Negroes must register as Democrats. If we are to reap the full benefits of these opportunities, we must forget our old party affiliations and register to vote in the election that really counts--the Democratic Primary. Then when the general election comes, we can vote for the candidate of our choice. Moore made every effort to secure that Black citizens would have the opportunity to exercise their privilege to vote. For example, when he received letters from Black citizens in Taylor, Gadsen, and Suwanee Counties, all of whom were threatened when they tried to vote in the Democratic Primary of 1945, he immediately responded with a letter of acknowledgement to the victims followed by a letter to Attorney Thurgood Marshall about the incidents and a letter to Governor Millard F. Caldwell requesting protection for Black voters across the Florida Panhandle. Furthermore, after the Florida Senate passed and sent to the House of Representatives a proposed constitutional amendment 70


that would require citizens to be able to read a portion of .the Florida and Unites States Constitution before they could qualify to vote, Moore responded with a letter of protest on behalf of the NAACP to the House: It is obvious that this measure is designed to restrict the voting privilege of a certain group of citizens ... This measure,if passed is bound to cause unmerited hardships for prospective Negro voters. Florida Negro citizens have suffered many handicaps under our education system. Our state has not made the same provisions for the education of its colored citizen as it has for the education of its white citizens ... We see no good for so many restrictions on voting. A citizen does not have to read the Constitution to pay taxes. Many men who have served in the armed force would have difficulty reading certain parts of the Constitution, yet they have made their contributions to the defense of their country and democracy. It is fair now to create new restrictions that might tend to deny these same men the fundamental right to vote? In 1946 Moore became the executive secretary of the Florida State Conference. He organized several local branches across the state and provided leadership where voids existed and fear was prevalent. As a result of his civil rights agenda, Moore was fired from his teaching position in Mims, in town in Brevard County. Likewise, his wife was denied teaching opportunities in Brevard County for three years and had to reestablish her career in another county. Moore depended on the State Conference for a salary which seldom materialized. At the time of his death, it was estimated that the state Conference owed him more than ten thousand dollars in back pay. 7 1


As executive secretary of the state Conference, Moore took a strong stand against the atrocities surrounding the Groveland case. Many believe that it was Moore's pointed criticism of the judicial system's handling of the case as well as his effective voter registration drives that directly lead to his assassination. After three Black men and one youth were arrested and charged with raping a White woman in Groveland, a small town in Lake County, a group of White mobsters burned the houses of Groveland's Black residents. Some fled from their homes even as their dinner remained cooking on the stove. Those that were to afraid to return to their homes reestablished their lives elsewhere. In protest Moore addressed a letter to J.W. Hunter, Florida's State's Attorney on July 28, 1949. He asked Attorney Hunter to investigate the acts of mob violence against Groveland's Black citizens. He asked that the state move to prosecute the mobsters, whom Sheriff McCall had admitted to having known. Moore did not stop there; just two days later he wrote Governor Fuller Warren to criticize Sheriff McCall's leniency with the mobsters. The men were sentenced to death in the Florida courts, and the case went before the United states Supreme Court where the sentences were overturned and the case sent back to the Florida courts. It was then that while in route from Weirsdale to Lake County Sheriff McCall shot two of the suspects, wounding one, Walter Irvin, and killing the other, 72


Samuel Shephard. McCall claimed they tried to escape, .although the men hands were cuffed together, making escape difficult indeed. Further investigation by the NAACP revealed that he had asked the men to get out of the patrol car on the remote clay road where they were shot. It was acts such as these that Moore despised and drove him to continue pressuring the legislature. He successfully persuaded Representative William G. Akridge of Brevard County to introduce an anti-lynching bill in the Florida legislature. His December 2, 1951 letter to Governor Warren regarding the Groveland fatality was perhaps his last letter: Dear Governor: Sane-minded Florida citizen of all classes, creeds, and colors must be shocked over the recent developments in the famous Groveland case. Despite the report of the coroner's jury that Sheriff McCall acted 'in the line of duty' when he shot (Samuel) Shephard and (Walter) Irvin, those fateful shots fired near Weirsdale on the night of November 6th are still heard around the world. Thinking people naturally ask these questions: 1) in view of the mob action directed against these prisoners in 1949, was it safe to transport them to Lake County again with a guard of only two officers? 2) Did S heriff McCall use sound judgement in attempting to drive his car and guard two prisoners at the sam e time? 3) Why did the officers follow a 'blind' clay road after leaving Weirsdale? 4) If the prisoners did try to escape (which is extremely doubtful), was it necessary to shoot them four times in order t o stop them, especially when they were handcuffed together? 5) Since the three Groveland boys had complained of severe beatings and inhuman treatment by Lake County officers in 1949 why were the y permitted to leave Raiford again in the of these same officers? 6 ) Is true that in Florida the word of a Negro means noth1ng wh e n weighed against that of a white person (as indicated by the three prisoners' complaints in 1949 and by Irvin's 73


sworn statement last month? 7) In the face of such strong evidence of gross neglect or willful intent to murder the prisoners, why have those officers not been suspended? Yes, these questions are too important to be ignored. We need not try to 'whitewash' this case or bury our heads in the sand like an ostrich. Florida is on trial before the rest of the world. Only prompt and courageous action by you in removing these officers can save the good name of our fair state. We also repeat our request for ample and constant State guard for Irvin in future hearings on this case. Moore closed the letter with a polite reminder to Governor Warren that Florida's Negro citizens had not forgotten that it was their votes that gave Warren the margin of victory needed to win the office the governorship in the 1948 election. On December 25, 1951, someone decided that Moore had said enough. That day the Moore's had decided to postpone their Christmas celebration until the arrival of their youngest daughter Evageline who was due in from Washington, D.C. But, approximately 10:30 that evening a bomb was placed underneath the bedroom of the Moore's home in Mims. The explosion was so powerful that it ripped through the floor boards a blew the couple and their bed to the roof of the house. Harry died instantly, but Harriet hung on, only to die 10 days later in a Sanford hospital. What little investigation that was conducted revealed that the bomb was highly sophisticated. It was d efinitely made and planted by experts. Walter White, the Executive Secretary of the NAACP, was outraged by the Moore's 74


assassination, calling it "one of the starkest tragedies that has befallen America in a long time." When I was hired as Moore's successor, White confided in me that he believed some of the state's highly elected officials were involved in the murder plot. White also sent a letter to Governor Warren asking for immediate action on behalf of the state. He (White) spoke at mass meetings in Jacksonville and Orlando in which he criticized the Governor for his passiveness. In response to White's accusations, Governor issued a statement angrily remarking, "This hate-monger has poured purchased wrath upon Florida because one of its good citizens was murdered by a cowardly assassin." Although the case received national attention and there were rewards posted that exceeded $20,000, no one has ever been arrested for the crime. In the early 1980's, a disableq war veteran came forth with information and stated that he was involved in making and planting the bomb. However, the new information did not lead to any arrest. Harry T. Moore spent his entire life fighting for the civil rights of Black Floridians. Speaking out against Black's unequal education opportunities, unequal salaries, the White Democratic Primary, police brutality, and an unjust judicial system, Moore left no stone upturned. His words demanded attention and threatened the White power structure. 75


Ironically, someone thought he had solved the civil rights "problem'' by silencing Moore when in fact he made Black citizens more determined than ever to fight for their rights. Admittedly, many were afraid to be associated with the NAACP immediately after the assassination, but with a little prompting Black citizens were ready to band together. over the next 30 years, Black Floridians would remember the assassinations of Harry and Harriet Moore as they demanded the death of Jim Crow. 76


CHAPTER 4. THE TAMPA STORY Racial discrimination has always been an issue in Tampa. As I child I lived in a West Tampa neighborhood with Cubans, Whites, and Italians. We played together, but we were not allowed to attend the same schools or churches. For a brief period from 1929 to 1931 I lived in New York. There, I attended schools with all races and ethnic groups. At an early age, I was able to see differences that existed. In Florida racial segregation was a way of life. I hated it. After being discharge d from the Army Air Corp in 1946, I returned to Tampa for several months. I decided to take the advice of Major Fred D. Minnis (who later became a lawyer) and move North. When I lived and worked in Cincinnati and Detroit, I enjoyed the freedom of being able to eat, shop, and ride buses without the stigma of segregation. It wasn't perfect, but at least it made a difference. I will always remember my first press pass issued by Chief Weatherly of Cincinnati in 1946 This pass opene d many doors. I learned a great deal and gained experience needed for my future civil rights career eve n though at that time I did not dream what the near future held for me. 77


When I returned to Florida in 1952 as the NAACP Field Secretary, the state office was set up in Tampa. I was bitterly thrown back into the Jim Crow system. However, this time, with the full support of the NAACP to attack racism in every segment of life throughout the state, my assignment was to play a leadership role in eliminating the 11White11 and 11Colored11 signs displayed in public facilities. This included discrimination in employment, housing, education, political activities, recreation, and transportation. The 11Fight for Freedom,11 as it was called by the NAACP, was unlimited. I vowed that I would work diligently to ensure that the NAACP program would succeed. The Tampa NAACP branch has a long history. In 1913, my grandparents were living in West Tampa. My grandmother, Marion E. Rogers, told me of the Stanley's, a Black family that owned extensive property on Spruce St. Other families, those of Herbert Lester, Edwin Moore, "Uncle" Joe Clinton, Daniel D. Perkins, and the Finlayson's banded together and demanded better schools. Mr. Moore and Mr. Lester were among the early postal employees. In fact I remember as a boy in the late 1920's and early 1930's that Mr. Lester delivered the mail in the Roberts City area of West Tampa. As a result of the demand for better schools and medical facilities and the resistance from the White community, Lester drafted a letter to the NAACP in 1915, asking for a branch to be organized in Tampa. According to 7 8


Leland Hawes, a history writer for the Tampa Tribune, the January 28, 1915, issue of the Tampa Daily Times printed Lester's letter to the NAACP National Office. It read: "We have been trying to look at conditions as they really are in the South and especially in our locality. After due deliberations, we have decided that we will try to organize a local (NAACP branch]." The NAACP archives show that the Tampa branch was organized in 1917 with more than 110 members. The first president was D.W. Perkins. Perkins entered the Army in World war I. Christine Meacham assumed leadership after Perkins left for military duty, but the branch faltered. An effort was made to reorganize the branch in 1921. Dr. Jacob A. White became the new president. The branch finally was reorganized in 1929 after Black Tampans complained of several police brutality incidents. The branch officers included Z.D. Greene, a Black attorney who was subsidized his law practice by teaching; E.E. Broughton, the treasurer of the Central Life Insurance Company; c. Blythe Andrews, Sr., also a of Central Life Insurance Company official and later the editor of the Florida Sentinel Bulletin; Mrs Jewel Archie, the wife of Dr. E.O. Archie; Henry Hudson and Michael Lazarus, local union officials; Luther Maddox; Dewey Richardson, a relentless advocate of voter registration; James Johnson; Harold Reddick, a railroad porter; Matthew Gregory (Reddick and 79


Gregory were close friends of A. Philip Randolph); Willie Warren; Norman E. Lacey; Leonard Pressley; and Dan Malloy. There were two main factions in the branch during the 1940's. E.E. Broughton and c. Blythe Andrews were of the conservative group which advocated a "go slow" position. Reddick, Gregory, Warren, Lacey, Pressley, and Malloy were restless. They protested police brutality and discrimination of Black people. They held strong positions on how to deal with Tampa's Jim Crow policies. It was difficult for the two factions to agree on a unified program to eliminate segregation. In 1945 the NAACP National Office sent Ella Baker, a field secretary, to mediate between the two groups. Baker had her hands full. Branch meetings sometimes became so heated arguments often ended with mild fisticuffs. Things seemed to have calmed down when Elder Straughn, the pastor of the Seven Day Adventist Church became president. An office was opened in Holsey Temple CME Church on Nebraska and Third Avenues. Shortly after that, Ella Baker had to make a second trip to Tampa. In 1948 the branch joined the Urban League in support of a proposal for a "Negro Housing Project." The group's spokesman, c. Blythe Andrews, pointed to the city's failure to provide adequate housing for its Black citizens. He contended that for 22 years every effort to provide decent 8 0


housing for Blacks was met with opposition from most White citizens. Many Black families lived in the dilapidated housing community nicknamed the "Scrub." The "Scrub's" boundaries were Central Avenue on the West, Nebraska on the East, Scott Street on the North, and Cass Street on the South. For many the "Scrub" was synonymous with infectious disease, crime, and substandard housing. There was no economic class structure, for poor, middle, and upper class Black families inhabited the clustered, dilapidated houses that lined unpaved streets. The "Scrub" was indeed a deplorable neighborhood; there was no indoor plumbing nor electricity. Finally, the city conceded to demands for better housing, and the "Scrub" eventually resulted in Central Park Village Housing Development. Members in the branch's earlier existence were just as involved in protests as the members during the 1950's-1960's. Among the most publicized of the earlier NAACP cases involved a White police officer who killed a Black man named Sam Ingram. Matthew Gregory led a committee which demanded the city take action to punish the three officers who .were suspected of being responsible for Ingram's death. The NAACP also protested the brutal beating of a Black woman by Tampa police who forcefully entered her home. Furthermore, they protested bitterly when a 79-year-old Black man, Cole Newcross, was beate n by sheriff deputies. 81


In 1949 the Tampa branch of the NAACP missed a golden opportunity to end segregation in public schools. James A. Hargrett, Sr., a former Middleton High Senior High School teacher and the owner of a grocery store, filed suit in the Federal Court opposing separate but equal schooling in Hillsborough County. This effort might have been successful, for the case was being considered to be part of the class action suit which resulted in the 1954 Brown decision by the U.S. Supreme Court. However, Before a Federal District judge could rule on Hargrett's case, a compromise was made between Black leaders and the Hillsborough County School Board in which promises were made to improve the county's segregated Black schools. Following this compromise, the national NAACP attorneys dropped Hillsborough county as the fifth school district to be included in the suit. In the decade that followed, a new type of leadership, one that refused to accept compromise, became active throughout the state of Florida. Black World War II veterans, educated under the G.I. Bill, returned as attorneys, physicians, and teachers, many with graduate degrees. Francisco A. Rodriguez was the son of Afro-Cuban parents who graduated from Howard University's School of Law and joined Attorney William A. Fordham, a graduate of Lincoln University's School of Law to form the first Black law firm in Tampa. Both R odriguez and Fordham held offices 82


in the NAACP. For a brief spell, Rodriguez served as the Tampa branch president but resigned because of civil rights cases he was handling. Edward D. Davis was responsible for the election of Attorney William Fordham as the State Conference President in 1952. Other attorneys who practiced in Tampa were Harold Jackson and Delano A. Stewart. Giving support to the NAACP were school principals like A.J. Ferrell, Jr., Richard Pride, Edwin Artest, Benjamin D. Griffin, Garland V. Stewart, Aurillio Fernandez, and Dora Reeder. During that period most of the branch members were Black teachers in Hillsborough County schools. In 1960 another teacher, Florene Jones, joined in helping promote the November appearance of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. at the Ft. Homer Hesterly Armory. In 1960 Ellen P. Greene, a Central Life Insurance home office employee, became the first woman to serve as president of the Tampa branch. Charles Stanford, C .J. DaValt, Robert L. Gilder, and Elder Warren Banfield made up the roster of other branch presidents up to the time of my departure as the Florida Field Secretary in 1966. It was this latter group, buttressed by the 1954 Supreme Court decision, the 1956 u.s. Supreme Court decision dissolving racial segregation on intra-city public transportation, and the 1964 Civil Rights Act, who instigated the University of Tampa desegregation suit and gave support to young high school and college students organizing sit-in protests. 83


Before becoming branch president, Charles stanford served as the adult supervisor to the fledgling NAACP Youth Council. As advisor to the youth group, he worked with the state and national youth programs. Stanford often led students in sit-in protests. He was once arrested along with Youth Council members Gwendolyn Tim, Shafter Scott, and another youth, whose surname was McMillan, while leading a protest at Morrison's Cafeteria. It was this group that tested the discriminatory practices at the super Test Oil Company's midway on Columbus Drive and Dale Mabry. Although they did not actively participate in sit-in demonstrations and other activities, there were several ministers who gave support. Among them were Reverend R.D. Potter, an AME presiding elder and publisher of the Tampa Bulletin; Reverend G.J. Oates, an AME minister; Reverend John C. Robinson, pastor of First Baptist Church of College Hill; Reverend William M. Scott, a Baptist minister; and Reverend J.C. Halsey and Reverend S.M Peck, both pastors of St. Paul AME Church. In 1955 Reverend Leon Lowry, Sr. became the pastor of Beulah Baptist Church. While he never served as an officer in the Tampa branch, Lowry became a prominent civil rights figure in Florida. In 1956 I asked him if he would consider running for president of the Florida state Conference of NAACP Branches. In October of that year, he was elected to the office at the annual State Conference 84


meeting in Orlando. He held office until November 1962. He was succeeded by the young president of the Jacksonville branch, Rutledge Pearson. It should be mentioned that Reverend Lowry's civil rights credentials were among the best. His participation in the NAACP in other cities was well known. When I returned to Tampa in August of 1952, I was pleased to learn of the Tampa branch activities. Matthew Gregory, the president, was not a "degrees" man; his experience stemmed from his work with men like E.D. Nixon, president of the Montgomery, Alabama branch and his association with A. Philip Randolph. Both Nixon and Gregory were members of the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters, the labor organization the Randolph founded. In 1952 the Tampa branch had more members than any other Florida branch. Nevertheless, there were people who were reluctant to openly participate in the NAACP. The White power structure, still controlled the everyday lives of Tampa's substantial Black population. The passage of the Taft-Hartley labor act by Congress had its effect on the local Longshoreman's Union. Perry Harvey, Sr. was working against the anti-labor attitude of Florida's politicians. Tampa's police department, true to southern traditions, maintained and enforced racist policies which restricted Black citizens, and the school system, d espite the hard work of Black educators, still was not on par with White schools. 85


The few Black persons working at the courthouse and City Hall were performing menial jobs. The respected positions were Tampa's Black bellmen and waiters. Railroad employees were also highly respected. The insurance companies providing employment were the Central Life Insurance Company of Florida, the Atlanta Life Insurance Company, and Afro-American Life Insurance Company. From this group of workers came a few of the independent individuals who were able to speak without the fear of economic reprisals. Black businessmen like Henry Joyner, Charlie "Moon" Vanderhorst, and Moses White were some of the independent Black Tampans. It could be concluded that Black leaders were often victims of compromise, and such compromises only perpetuated a separate class of citizenry. My presence, I believe, helped strengthen the NAACP leadership. As a nationally appointed NAACP staff person, it was my job to interpret NAACP policy, provide direction, and implement the entire program. I was not beholden to local sources for my paycheck which was signed by Walter White the NAACP Executive Secretary who was succeeded by Roy Wilkins. Beginning in 1958 the NAACP saw its most turbulent period since the Moore murders on Christmas night in 1951. As I mentioned earlier, the local branch was involved in all arenas, including public facilities, public and private education, housing, employment, transportation, voter 86


education and registration, and of course, the brutal attacks on Blacks by White police officers. This was also the time of the sit-in demonstrations, several race riots in several Florida cities, and the infamous attack on the NAACP by the Florida legislature. Even as the Tampa branch fought to bring about successful institutional change, it was involved in a much larger fight, that of Urban Renewal. Tampa was just one of many cities that was a recipient of federal funding to improve living conditions and eradicate slum areas. At first urban renewal sounded attractive. The federal government granted certain cities funding to improve the slum neighborhoods that Black people had been forced to occupy for more than a century. However, it became apparent that rather than eliminate slum conditions, Black citizens would simply occupy a new slum area, perhaps not as run down as the old, only slightly better but not built to last. For these reasons, the Urban Renewal Program was dubbed ''Urban Slum Removal." In Tampa the entire Central Avenue segment was cleared. Parts of Ybor city from around 22nd Street to 14th and 7th Avenue to about Ross Avenue were also cleared. The entire area from Cass and slightly beyond 7th Avenue and from Tampa Street to the Hillsborough River was cleared of long time Black home owners to make way for the Tampa Police Station, the library, a motel, and the curtis Hixon Auditorium. 87


In 1957 Madison E. Jones became National NAACP Housing Director. When the local branch learned that the city would be participating in the Urban Renewal Program as well as the Federal Highway Project for constructing the new interstate system, it also discovered that 60% of Tampa's Black population might be adversely affected. Yet, there was little or no consultation between the city with any Black leaders, including the NAACP. Thus, Jones was asked to visit Tampa to study the plans for implementation of the new programs and to advise the NAACP of its role. Jones met with Mayor Nick Nuccio and city planners. He advised the local branch to activate its standing committee on housing immediately, and he met with several Black realtors to let them know what was happening. Reverend William H. Gordon was chosen as the Housing Committee chairman. Following Jones' departure, he (Jones) sent a letter to Reverend Gordon advising the NAACP: Of first importance, i s the problem presented by the proposal to build a courthouse and police station in the area of Scott, Estelle, and Fortune Streets. The site is residential in nature with approximately 60% of its residents Negro. The Mayor must be must be made aware of the fact that unless these people can be rehoused, and according to our policy dispersed throughout the city, we should oppose the program. You will recall my statement to the effect that Mayor Nuccio really did not know if there were no housing facilities readily available. Therefore unless the city can come up with a rehousing program acceptable to us, we cannot go along with the present proposal. 88


Finally, Jones advised Gordon to meet w i t h the city planner as soon as possible to discuss the city's ultimate plans for those affected by urban renewal. Unfortunately, that meeting never took place. When I was asked by Jones to follow-up, I asked Gordon why were Jones' suggestions never followed. Gordon, reminding me that he operated one of the city's oldest Black funeral homes, replied, that the committee could not delve into the affairs of the city because among other things his funeral horne received indigent bodies. In other words, Gordon was not going to sacrifice his business with the city in order to fight for fair housing for Blac k citizens However, as new leadership took over, the branch eagerly supported efforts to end housing discrimination by protesting Tampa's failure to comply with Urban Renewal requirements, including a fully representative citizens committee to be established to consult with the Urban Renewal committee. In 1961 the Tampa branch issued the following statement: Urban Renewal is a program undertake n b y the city with the assistance of the Federal Government to redevelop slums and blighted residential ares. The basic purpose of the entire program is t o improve the housing conditions of local families by eradicating and halting the spread of urban blight and deterioration. Urban Renewal, under ideal and full y democr atic conditions can b e constructive. Local programs . democratically conceived and equitably are an indispensable tool to the orderly res1dent1al and economic growth of our community. 89

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However, to the Negro, Urban Renewal can have a very damaging and objectionable impact upon his progress as a citizen in the community. The overall practice of planning for and not planning with minority groups in the development of an Urban Renewal program for the entire community has a tendency to relegate the affected minorities into positions of having others plan for the housing needs irrespective of the rights guaranteed as citizens of the state and nation. In the City of Tampa, although plans may be considered by some to be inadequate, there has been a tendency to proceed with Urban Renewal, whether intentionally or unintentionally, without fair representation from and on a community wide level. It is essential that minority groups be represented in this planning and by persons who will defend their rights against encroachment while realizing that the program of Urban Renewal benefits the entire community when administered fairly. Furthermore, it is necessary that all recognize that an effective program is not short ranged. Urban Renewal plans and promotion reaches over a span of from eighty to one hundred years. Codes and laws which accompany the program effect (sic) all persons and will control the actions and lives of many generations yet unborn. It then becomes necessary that responsible citizens take cognizance of all programming in this area and demand that fair and impartial representation on all phases of Urban Renewal development be given to all groups regardless of color. By doing this then the program becomes acceptable and reaches the requirements of certain acts governing it. Since Negroes, as a result of racial or economic discrimination, are usually forced to reside in substandard housing areas, Urban Renewal programs usually involve this segment of the population in a much higher ratio than any other group. This is true in Tampa. Therefore, the responsibility of insuring local Public Agency compliance with certain minimal requirements lies with those who best tinde r stand the program of Urban Renewal and who are willing to address themselves to the problems that must be confronted and solved. The NAACP realized, of course that it would have to follow the city's every move to ensure that Black citizens affected by urban renewal would have a fair chance 90

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to argue their positions. The Black communities throughout the state were indeed divided over the complicated issue of urban renewal. Tampa was no different than other Florida cities. On the one hand, Black people were anxious to live in better housing. Some people did not mind that urban renewal plans would perpetuate segregation by forcing them to move to all Black neighborhoods away from the city. Then there a majority who resented moving away from the neighborhoods that they had lived and worked in all of their lives. And, there were those who hated the fact that the city masked its plans to ensure segregated housing by promoting better housing for those affected by urban renewal. Requirements of the Federal Urban Renewal Program called for all affected by urban renewal to have the opportunity to present their opinions. I knew that the position letter that we issued would not be enough to persuade the city to comply with federal regulations, so on June 10, 1961, I called Jack E. Wood, Jr., who succeeded Madison E. Jones. In response to m y call, he wrote me a letter in which he admitted that there was no Black representation on any of the urban renewal committees. (Woods and I were also working on other housing problems in Florida.) Furthermore, he agree d that Tampa was indeed violating the Federal Urban R enewal Administration's requirement that the r e be a citizens advisory committee 9 1

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representing all people that would be affected by urban renewal changes. He assured me that Tampa would obey that requirement less the city risked losing its federal funding. Then, he denounced the Mayor's proposal to have a special panel of Black citizens analyze the Maryland Avenue Project for only two weeks, so little time for a project that which would have a direct affect on the Black people who would reside there for the rest of their lives. Wood's announcement in the letter that the Mayor would be appointing this special committee for only two weeks prompted The Tampa branch to retaliate. Ellen P. Greene, branch president, was given authority by the branch to immediately file a complaint against the city to Dr. Robert c. Weaver, Director of the Federal Housing Administration. She sent a telegram to Dr. Weaver vehemently opposing the city's defiance of Urban Renewal Administration requirements to establish a representative citizens advisory committee. The special committee that the Mayor had appointed was no more than a mockery of the Urban Renewal Administration's mandate. The branch suggested that the federal government consider removing Tampa from the Urban Renewal Program. On June 15, 1961, I wrote Jack Wood, bringing to his attention, problems the local branch had identified with the Tampa urban renewal program. I mentioned that: 1) the urban renewal commissions included seven people, all of whom were White and that no Blacks had ever served on this committee. 92

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2) blighted areas were already being cleared. Blacks were already being removed and not once did the commission establish a representative citizens advisory council. 3) all relocation efforts were following the same segregated housing patterns as before, that Blacks were not being informed of certain regulations of fairness with regards to purchasing homes, and that Blacks were being directed into buying housing in areas labeled "Negro communities." 4) Mayor Julian Lane's special committee for the Maryland Avenue project, although 50% were Black, was not fully representative. The Black people who served on the committee all shared the Mayor's opinion. 5) as Blacks relocated into integrate d areas, nonBlacks moved out of the neighborhoods, which, as a result, were quickly becoming all Black. Soon these homes would no longer have the market value at which Blacks purchased them because the area would be segregated. On June 23, 1962, a little more than a year had passed since the NAACP had initially filed its complaint with the federal government. On c e again the local branch appealed to the city, pointing out that it had yet to comply with federal regulations. Then on November 23 of that same year I wrote a letter to Mayor Lane asking him to appoint Black citizens to the Urban Renewal Board. Shortly thereafter, Mayor Lane called my house late one night and pleaded with the NAACP to withdraw its complaint against the city. He promised that the city would comply with the mandated regulations from then on. The NAACP withdrew its complaint, and Mayor Lane established a biracial committee and a city planning committee. However, the biracial committee still was not representative of all viewpoints. 9 3

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In the end, the city ignored most of the NAACP's complaints, primarily because there were some Black leaders who supported the city as they stood to profit just as most Whites did from urban renewal. When Maryland Avenue was destroyed many residents moved to Progress Village, a housing development whose residents are all Black. Central Avenue, the core of the Black business district was also destroyed as a result of urban renewal and the highway project. Some business owners relocated to West Tampa; others never reestablished their businesses. However, the NAACP's battle over housing was not over. In 1962 Reverend Leon Lowry addressed the issue of hotel and motel segregation of Black troops. Black airmen from McDill Air Force Base were denied rental space in several trailer parks. This problem was resolved when the federal government barred military personnel from renting housing in trailer parks that had discriminated against Black service personnel. In 1964 Robert Gilder was elected as branch president. shortly after the passage of the 1964 Civil Rights Act, he and I met with officials at the Tampa Authority. When we asked them if they knew what the passage of the act would mean for fair housing, the answer was no. The Tampa Housing Authority had yet to implement anti-discrimination safeguards in its housing program. With the assistance of the Federal Housing Administration officials, we worked out 94

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an agreement with the Tampa Housing Authority to assign housing on a non-discriminatory basis. All eligible applicants names would be listed on a first come first serve basis, and applicants would be assigned accordingly. Soon other branches followed the Tampa branch's lead and were able to entertain the Fair Housing Program with the aid of Jack E. Wood and the State Conference. The sit-in protests in Tampa were largely responsible for ending discrimination in public accommodations. Edna Branch had participated in youth activities in Savannah, Georgia. Edna spent summers visiting her relatives in Tampa. She was well informed of on how protests were carried out by other groups, especially in Savannah. In Tampa, the Youth Council consisted of high school and college students who were eager to contribute in any way to the civil rights struggle. My office became the main meeting place for these students. They were a ready asset to the office. They designed posters, helped prepare mailings, and performed other tasks. The group also worked on voter registration projects, but these activities were not enough to exhaust their energies. Edna .spent most of her time working with the Tampa Youth Council and helping me give directions in peaceful, non-violent protests. Among those who were active and formed the nucleus of the group were Clarence Forte, Arthenia Joyner, Lorenzo Brown, Gwendolyn Tim, Terasea Van, Henry Carley, Shafter 95

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Scott, James Hargrett, Jr., and Cheryle Pride. In fact the total membership exceeded more than 100. The Youth Council would lead the attack against discrimination at restaurants and lunch counters. They also protested theater discrimination by picketing the Tampa and Florida theaters. Reverend Haisley, pastor of st. Paul AME Church, offered the church to be the starting point of the marches to Grants, Woolworth, and other places which continued to discriminate. Joining in with them was Reverend Leon Lowry, NAACP State Conference president and pastor of Beulah Baptist Institutional Church. Unlike Jacksonville where the Ku Klux Klan, armed with baseball bats, met youth protestors, Tampa was spared violence because Mayor Julian Lane instructed the local police to arrest anyone who threatened the group. Indeed, several arrests of white men, some of whom were carrying baseball bats, were made. In 1959 the Mayor appointed a biracial committee called the Community Relations Board. Black members of the board included Reverend Leon Lowry, Perry Harvey,Sr., C. Blythe Andrews, Sr., Raynell Sloan, Elder Warren B?nfield, Reverend w. H. Calhoun, and Clarence Wilson. Some of those serving from the White community were Attorney Cody Fowler, Sandy Moffett, "Bob" Thomas, A.R. Ragsdale, Father Wilson Dodd, and Byron Bushwell. This group also supported change 96

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although the White community were opposed to demands for change. Several meetings were held with youth leaders and NAACP officials. It is interesting to note that during this period, Youth Council members refused to compromise. Terasea Van at one meeting was so insistent that she started banging on the table with her shoe when one Black member of the Community Relations Board mentioned that adult members should not support the protests. The Young Adults for Progressive Action was another youth activist group. It was organized by James Hammond. Hammond and I did not always agree on some ideas and tactics. I felt that there was no need for another organization with the NAACP playing such an important role. But he and his organization gave support to the "fight for freedom" by making contributions. I respected Hammond because he was a fighter. His response to my pressing for one organization was that many of the young adults were reluctant to be identified with the NAACP. Some of them were teachers and others held jobs with White establishments. They feared economic reprisals and the recent legislative attack against the NAACP. An illustration of Hammond's determination to fight racial inequality is an event which involved his command as an Army Reserve officer. As a captain, Hammond once commanded an interracial company of soldiers traveling by 97

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Greyhound bus to Fort Benning, Georgia for summer training. Arrangements were made for the group to dine at the Greyhound terminal in Tallahassee. Black travelers were forced to eat in a dingy, often crowded and dirty area reserved for "Colored." Hammond knew that he would be demanded to segregate the soldiers by race. White soldiers, regardless of their rank would be allowed to dine in the "White" dining room. Black troops, including Hammond, would be subjected to the indignation of being ordered to use a separate part of the restaurant. Before his departure from Tampa, he and I had a meeting to discuss the problem. Hammond insisted that he would not disgrace his position as the commanding officer by allowing his company to be racially segregated. He told me that he would insist upon his entire group eating in the "White" dining area. If this failed, we agreed that I could contact Dr. George Gore, president of Florida A&M University, explain to him what we expected would occur, and ask him to accommodate the group. I called Dr. Gore. He agreed that the dining room at the university would be prepared to accommodate all of the soldiers if the Black soldiers were refused service in the White dining area. Clarence Mitchell, Director of the NAACP washington Bureau, was contacted as well as Attorney Francisc o Rodriguez in Tampa and all employees in the Defense D epartment. 98

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As expected the manager of the cafeteria in Tallahassee refused to serve the Black and White soldiers together. He demanded to know who had the nerve to bring Black soldiers into the White restaurant. Though Hammond responded that he was the commanding officer and that they were traveling under orders, the fact that the Army had given them orders to dine together at the bus terminal did not matter. Rather than segregate his command, Hammond ordered the troop to reboard the bus. They went to Florida A&M University where Hammond knew the staff were prepared to accommodate them. Without the help of Dr. Gore, who stood tall against the pressures from segregationist legislatures and the Florida Board of Regents, Hammond would have been forced to segregate his troop. Representative Bob Sykes, Congressman from Florida's Third congressional District, was incensed by Hammond's action. A rabid segregationist from Crestview who had served in the congress for several terms, Sykes accused Hammond of embarrassing the White soldiers and called for Hammond to be decommissioned. But, Hammond stood firm and the Army agreed with him. His commission upheld. We were all proud of what he had done. Tampa's racial problems were too numerous to include in this chapter. The NAACP with limited resources was faced with a tremendous task as it sought to bring about institutional change. Without the financial assistance from 99

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the NAACP National Office and the NAACP Legal Defense Fund, very few efforts to challenge illegal discrimination in the courts were almost impossible. Rodriguez and other Black lawyers who gave their talents in the fight did so without adequate remuneration. Black people owe a tremendous debt to this group of professionals. Even so, our efforts barely scratched the surface. How often did I and other civil rights advocates explain to the man on the street that the annual two-dollar membership in the NAACP was not an insurance policy? To the man on the street it was often difficult to explain the benefits of the NAACP's work. 100

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CHAPTER 5. ST. AUGUSTINE: THE CHALLENGE St. Augustine, the oldest city in the nation, was also one of the most racist cities in America. The Honorable Leander Shaw, Chief Justice of the Florida Supreme court, was one of the Black attorneys at the time who worked with the NAACP in St. Augustine. Recently, the two of us reminisced about St. Augustine's many racial upheavals during the Civil Rights Movement. Like most cities in Florida, St. Augustine's NAACP membership was deeply affected by the murders of Harry T. Moore and his wife. On my first visit to St. Augustine, I concluded easily that economic pressures and the fear of police brutality were the main deterrents preventing our reestablishment of an effective organization. A local barber and minister named Mr. Wells was elected branch presiderit. However, as he served just recently after the Moore killings, he was not able to rally the community. I also noticed that at first the NAACP received little support from the religious sector with the exception of Thomas W. Wright who eventually served as branch president. Justice Shaw and I recalled one meeting in particular in which the local branch met with St. Augustine city 101

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officials regarding racial injustices. On March 12, 1963, the audience was filled to capacity with Black residents and students from Florida Memorial and Industrial College. The atmosphere in the room was very tense, as these citizens, tired of years of oppression and intimidation, were ready to demand to be treated as citizens. The city manager, Charles Barrier, opened the meeting and required all persons wishing to speak to give their names, addresses, and the organization that they represented before they expressed their concerns. I immediately turned to Shaw and asked him should I protest Barrier's obvious intimidation tactic. Of course, Shaw agreed, and I complained that due to economic reprisals and police brutality it would not be in the best interest of these concerned citizens to reveal such information. So, Barrier retaliated b y declaring the meeting o ver. We were not surprised by Barrier's actions. What city officials did not know was that I had received a telephone call from an unidentified white woman the evening before the meeting. She warned me that city officials had no intention of providing an open forum in which people could freely express themselves. In fact certain public officials were not even going to attend the session. Thus, I knew the meeting would be a farce, but this meeting was just part of the NAACP's protest of the city of St. Augustine. This 102

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protest would last until the 1964 Civil Rights Act was passed. This is how it all started. Playing an important role in the protest was the president of Florida Normal and Industrial Memorial College, Dr. Royal W. Puryear. Located in St. Augustine, Florida Industrial Memorial College was one of the oldest colleges for Black students in Florida. Dr. Puryear was angry with the white community's discriminatory treatment of Black students and faculty. He quietly supported the NAACP's strategies to end the slave like mentality in the community. Because he was the college's president, Dr. Puryear walked a tight rope as not to disrupt what little financial support that was given to the college. Then in 1961, he bravely began to allow the NAACP to hold meetings on campus. That year the NAACP also began a college chapter there. On February 6, 1963, Ruby Hurley, the Southeast Regional Director from Atlanta, and I met with a group of NAACP officers from st. Augustine at the college. We met to design strategies that would improve the branch's capabilities to bring about change and to discuss strategies that would pressure the city to end racial discrimination. Among those present were Dr. Robert Hayling a local Black dentist, and several employees from the Fairchild plant. Earlier I had filed a complaint with the President's Equal Opportunity Committee on behalf of Fairchild employees alleging employment discrimination. 103

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At this meeting, we decided that the city's Quadricentennial celebration could be quite an advantage to us. Branch members and Dr. Hayling suggested that Ruby and I ask Roy Wilkins, the Executive Director of the NAACP, to call Vice President Johnson. Since the Vice President was the key note speaker scheduled for the Quadricentennial dinner at the Ponce de Leon Hotel, Hayling thought we should ask him to cancel his speaking engagement because no Black citizens had been invited to the dinner. The Vice President obviously was not aware of the discrimination. Later, Dr. Hayling met with Rutledge Pearson, the former president of the Jacksonville branch, who had recently been elected president of the Florida State conference. He asked if the Jacksonville the branch would picket in St. Augustine during the Vice President's visit. I then talked Pearson and told him that only if Vice President Johnson insisted on coming to st. Augustine despite the city's refusal to end discriminatory practices against Black citizens then the Jacksonville branch should be prepared to picket. We knew we could count on the Jacksonville branch for a successful protest since most members were veterans of the 1960 d esegregation efforts in which they bravely faced the KKK, who were armed with baseball bats, in Hemsley Park. Meanwhile, Dr. Puryear reported to me that a meeting had been held betwee n som eone named Bill Peak, representing 104

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United States Senator George Smathers, and local branch officers. He also said that he had been appointed to the Vice President's welcoming committee following persistent protests of St. Augustine's Black citizens who were outraged that no Blacks had been invited to participate in planning the Quadricentennial celebration. Most importantly, he reported that tickets would be available for Blacks and that the Vice President promised to correct all discriminatory practices at the Fairchild plant. Eventually, a local NAACP church committee formed to aid in desegregation efforts. The Reverend J.H. McKissick served both as the state NAACP church committee chairman and the St. Augustine chairman. He along with the Reverends Thomas Wright, Goldie Eubanks, Thomas DeSue, and others participated in several meetings over the span of five days between the local branch and Bill Peak. Peak asked Mrs. Fannie Fulwood, the new St. Augustine branch president, to invite the Vice President and assure him that the NAACP welcomed his visit to St. Augustine. Mrs. Fulwood agreed; however, when Mr. Peak returned to pick up the letter, the local branch refused to give him the letter. Rather, they told him that they wanted him to arrange a meeting with the city commissioners to address discriminatory practices in st. Augustine. They called for all signs designating race to be removed from all areas of public accommodation, for 105

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non-discriminatory employment, and for integrated lunch counters and restaurants. On Sunday, March 10, Roy Wilkins called me. I mentioned the letter from the St. Augustine branch to the Vice President. He told me that Vice President Johnson had moved to correct all conditions of racial discrimination where the federal government had jurisdiction. Mr. Wilkins also stated that Johnson had promised to try to persuade city officials to end discrimination policies. We both agreed that if the Vice President was taking this position, then it would be possible for some measure of progress to occur in St. Augustine. Meanwhile, the Jacksonville branch had decided against picketing the dinner at which Vice President Johnson was speaking since the city had allotted ten seats for Black guests. However, Dr. Hayling was disappointed that the branch had canceled its protest, for he informed us that only ten tickets were available for Blacks to buy and that the Black guests probably would be forced to sit at one table designated for them. Still Dr. Hayling bought a ticket and planned to attend, but later he changed his mind. on the day of the banquet at the Ponce de Leon Hotel, I made an unsuccessful call to Bill Peak. When he returned my call, he told me that the Vice Presidents's party was departing from Jacksonville by helicopter. He promised to call me again when they arrived in Jacksonville. As 106

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promised Peak returned my call. He introduced me to the Vice President's administrative assistant, George Reedy, over the telephone. We discussed that Black citizens had agreed to Vice President Johnson's visit, pending his use of his influence to end racial discrimination in st. Augustine and in st. John's County. I told him that Black citizens were dissatisfied that there were only 10 tickets available for them to purchase. Since only six people would be seated at a table, we expected that the whole seating arrangement would follow racially segregated patterns and that Black persons in attendance would be forced to segregate themselves. Reedy stated that he would personally see that there would be no segregation even if it meant that he would have to sit at one of the tables reserved for Blacks. We also discussed avenues for fulfilling the Vice President's promises. Reedy stated that Vice President Johnson had asked him to provide a record of the meeting to be held the following Tuesday in his office. I informed Mrs. Fulwood that afternoon about the meeting. I stressed to her the importance that the members attend the arranged meeting set for March 12. However, on that date only Barrier and his secretary were present. Neither George Reedy nor the city commissioners attended. We, of course, noted their absences. And, as I mentioned 107

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earlier Barrier ended the meeting after we protested revealing names and addresses. In protest the NAACP contested St. Augustine's generous budget for the Quadricentennial celebration. Millions had been spent renovating some historic sites, including the Ponce de Leon Hotel. I learned that the city had applied for a grant totaling more than $300,000 for additional funding to promote and support the 400th city anniversary. In a meeting with Mrs. Fulwood, Dr. Hayling, and others, I assisted in drafting an official letter opposing the grant proposal. Mrs. Fulwood signed the letter. Following the Vice President's visit, local officials seemed to have forgotten the promises the Vice President made and several commitments they had agreed to. The complaints we sent to Washington remained unanswered as White House officials appeared to be more involved with events in other parts of the South, such as Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s protest marches. Thus, I made an appointment to appeal to Governor Farris Bryant. The meeting lasted no more than ten minutes, as the Governor told me not to intervene in St. Augustine's situation because it was a local matter. over the course of several meetings with Mrs. Fulwood, Mrs. Elizabeth Hawthorne, Dr. Hayling, Reverend Eubanks, and others, we discussed the city officials' reluctance to end racial discrimination and to address issues raised by the 108

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NAACP. We also decided to step up demonstrations in response to their reluctance. Gloster currant, NAACP Director of Branches, at my request, agreed to hire Reverend G. Frank Pinkston from Ocala to work with the st. Augustine branch and to coordinate the activities of the Youth Council. Pinkston had just returned from Virginia Union College where he had attended workshops on non-violence and had participated in protests. Later, he and I flew to New York to meet with Gloster for a strategic planning meeting. When four Black youths were being held in the St. John's County jail while a St. John's County judge decided whether or not to declare them juvenile delinquents, Reverend Pinkston, worked full time organizing protests and instructing protesters in methods of non-violence. At first he worked well with Dr. Hayling. But as segregationists pressured protesters, Pinkston reported that Dr. Hayling became difficult to work with. Though Pinkston faced threats of arrests, he organized a picket of the county jail where the four juveniles were being held. In my July 27, 1963 letter to Attorney Robert L Carter, the NAACP General Counsel, I explained why the youths were arrested. we are involved in several cases here in the state covering the arrests of youths between the ages of 14 and 17 years and in one or two cases have declared "juvenile delinquents" because they and the1r parents refused to sign papers stating that they would not participate in demonstrations aimed at protesting racial discrimination. 109

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Attorneys Leander Shaw and Earl Johnson, both of Jacksonville, represented the juveniles. They requested legal assistance from New York to ensure that they handled the case in the best manner. The battle to free the four youths raged back and fourth. Some people believed that they were being held as pawns by the state as a warning that similar actions would be taken, not only in St. Augustine but across the entire state should sit-in demonstrations continue. Whenever I was in Miami, I would brief Reverend J.A. Finlayson, president and elderly statesman of the Florida Baptist Association, on the conditions in St. Augustine. I told him how difficult it was for the NAACP to raise funds to continue organized protests. Always eager to assist, Reverend Finlayson would request donations at each state Baptist convention. During the summer of 1963 mass arrests were being made in st. Augustine. On the day that the largest number of students were jailed, a special train of Baptist delegates was traveling to the national Baptist convention. Pinkston and I agreed to call upon the Baptist Association to contribute toward the tremendous expense of representing the protestors, most of whom were students from Florida Normal and Industrial Memorial College, a Baptist institution. I sent a telegram to Reverend Finlayson, who was on the special train, telling him of the college students' arrests. When the train reached Jacksonville, the telegram was delivered to him. The telegram to Reverend Finlayson appealed for financial support from the Baptist: Since your organization supports Florida Memorial College in this city, we ask that you call your 110

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board together to consider action to protect r1ghts of students attending your institution against such acts as use of dogs and electric prods yesterday and refusal to serve Negroes at lunch counters. I also ask that this group join in protesting the confinement of the four juveniles being held. We ask that you organize all Baptist churches under your direction in Florida to back this fight. Reverend Pinkston, who was also a Baptist minister and whose church was a member of the Baptist Association, solicited financial support from the association; however, the request for help was never answered. Receiving no response from Reverend Finlayson or the Baptist State Convention, a follow up letter was addressed to him: Several weeks ago following an incident in St. Augustine, Florida where nearly 40 Negro citizens were arrested for praying at the Slave Mart, I wired you requesting that the Baptist State Convention take a stand on the situation in the city. I felt that this was necessary since the convention does support the Florida Memorial College and that the students at the school are Negroes. As of this date, almost a month later, I have not heard from you nor have I seen any announcement made publicly as to the position that your group assumes. Since the police of St. Augustine used cow prods and police dogs to assist in making arrests, I felt that this would be enough to prod the Baptist Convention and its leadership into giving active support to demands of Negroes in that city. But it appears that this leadership is not willing to speak out and be heard. Nor is it willing to give financial assistance that is needed to help the fight for freedom in our home state. For this reason, and because many of the nation's news media are interested in what your stand is going to be, I am again requesting that you give your immediate attention to the original request. These messages and the pleading from St. Augustine's citizens as well as Florida Memorial College students, who 111

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were also victims of police brutality, still brought no response from Reverend Finlayson. In September of 1963, Dr. Hayling showed me a handbill advertising a Klan rally to be held behind a local bowling alley on U.S. 1 on Saturday night, September 18. The Reverend Connie Lynch, a rabid segregationist from California and founder of a group called the National States Rights Party, was promoting this rally. Dr. Hayling informed me that he intended to drive down to the area to see what was going on. I cautioned him against going to the rally. I knew the danger of going to such a demonstration without police protection, and I told him that I would not accompany him. Dr. Hayling, in turn, called me chicken. His argument was that U.S. 1 was a federal highway and that he just like any other citizen had the right to travel it to see what was going on. I returned to Tampa the Friday evening before the march. The Sunday following the Klan rally Roy Wilkins called me at about 5:00 a.m. and asked me was I aware of a Klan rally in which four Black men, one of whom was Dr. Hayling, had been badly assaulted. I told him that I was preparing to travel to St. Augustine in one hour. Mr. Wilkins told me to go straight to the hospital to get statements from the men and to tell them that the NAACP would pay their medical and legal expenses. 112

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When I walked into the hospital, I saw a horrible sight. Dr. Hayling's face was puffed, apparently his jaw was broken, and several of his teeth were missing. I could tell that he was in pain. I tried to talk to him about the evening before. He related to me that he, Clyde Jenkins, James Hauser, and James Jackson drove down the highway and prepared to turn around. They drove their car up a dirt road, intending to return to the highway for a better view of what was happening. Then, out of nowhere, it seemed, a car pulled behind them. One of the passengers in the car yelled at them to pull over to the side of the rode so that his car could pass. But instead of passing, the car stopped alongside Dr. Hayling's and several Klansmen in the car pointed guns at the four men. The Klansmen demanded that the men get out of the car. They frisked the men and ordered them to continue to the rally as they followed. up When the frenzied crowd saw the four men, they began to yell "niggers" repeatedly. Then, one of the Klansmen recognized and identified Dr. Hayling as one of the leaders of the st. Augustine protest. The mob beat the men severely and might have killed them had it not been for Art Chaney, an-official of the Florid Human Relations Council who infiltrated the Klan to help destroy it. Mr. Chaney called Sheriff L.O. Davis who rescued the men. As I listened to 113

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the men's statements, I could not help but wonder to myself what might have happened to me if I had joined Dr. Hayling. The September 20, 1963 edition of the Daytona Beach Morning Journal carried headline "Four White Men Arrested As Aftermath of Klan Session." The story reported that the NAACP appealed to Governor Farris Bryant and Attorney General Robert Kennedy to investigate. The four men who were arrested were all from Jacksonville: Clarence o. Wilson, 29; Harmon Davis, 49; Lawrence A. Bessent, 30; and DeWitt W Springfield, 46. They were released on $100 bond. Meanwhile, Attorney Earl Johnson continued to work on the case of the four juveniles who had refused to waive their rights to picket and protest against discrimination. Their parents also consented to filing suits to desegregate the Marianna School for Boys where two of the boys had been assigned. The city of st. Augustine was certainly put on notice that its Black citizens wanted change. However, city officials failed to take advantage of the many opportunities provided through peaceful protests and petitioning to even discuss change. Developers and financiers were to busy investing in what they believed would be a major attraction for White tourists. Even the Vice President's warning that all racial discrimination must end fell on deaf ears. Both the Police Chief and the Sheriff allowed their employees to perform acts of indecent and often violent means to stem 114

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protests. They were backed up by elected officials who overtly condoned brutal attacks by their law enforcement officers. The die was cast. It was easy for SCLC to move into the city. Dr. King demanded attention because he had the support of the media that followed him. SCLC and Dr. King did indeed come to St. Augustine. While the Klansmen and other pro-segregationists vowed to get King, the resistance they promoted only helped to fuel the Civil Rights Movement. The NAACP continued to work in the community during the presence of SCLC in St. Augustine and long after the passage of the 1964 Civil Rights Act. Even with the many marches and jailings, it was only legal action through the federal courts that forced St. Augustine to finally accept Blacks as citizens. 115

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CHAPTER 6. A MODERATE GOVERNOR IN THE DEEP SOUTH Edward Davis, who served as president of the NAACP Florida State Conference, knew Leroy Collins when Collins served in the state legislature. He once remarked, "Collins was born in the heart of Jim Crow South, but even during his legislative career, he could see beyond the horizons of racial prejudice and support the Constitution of the United States. Leroy Collins served two terms as governor of Florida from 1954 to 1960. On c e a proclaimed segregationist, Collins surprised Black Floridians, the NAACP, and the Florida legislature when he began denouncing racial segregation. Naturally, the NAACP was skeptical of Collins' change of heart at first, but as national attention focused on his decisions to resolve discrimination in schools, restaurants, and other public facilities, we were pleasantly assured that Governor Collins was committed to ridding Florida of its Jim Crow heritage. Collins supported the NAACP when in Jacksonville peaceful demonstrators from the local NAACP Youth Council were confronted by the Ku Klux Klan who threatened to attack them with baseball bats. Following the 116

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incident, Collins sent a staff member to work with the community and the NAACP to resolve the racial problems in Jacksonville. It was decisions such as this one that gave Black Floridians a new sense of hope in his leadership. However, Collins was not always fully devoted to a civil rights agenda. As I will show in this chapter, Collins change was gradual, but, fueled by his zealous segregationist opponent Sumter Lowry in his reelection campaign. Early in his tenure as Governor, Collins made comments that left the NAACP wondering what his position was on civil rights. For example, in one of his speeches, the Governor remarked, the heavy hand of coercion whether by judicial or bayonets or otherwise should be taken off the South and allow Southerners to resolve our sins of racial discrimination, such as it may be, in our own time. This comment left me somewhat confused. After all Collins had to realize that without judicial mandates the South would never change. I agreed with Ruth Perry, the White secretary of the Miami NAACP branch who was also the author of a weekly column in the liberal Miami Times. Mrs. Perry responded to Collins' comment in one of her weekly articles: Parts of his last speech would be considered very liberal by diehard segregationists. But I am wondering if Collins is speaking as a politician or with sincere belief. I must confess that every time any one mentions letting the south resolve its own by its own efforts, in its own time, I take a very d1m view of the whole thing. 117

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In fact all Black Floridians took a very dim view of his comments. How could we, faced with threats of economic reprisals, or worse violence against us and our families, agree with Governor Collins? The NAACP was further disappointed in Collins when he refused to take a firm stand against segregationists in the case of Black voters in Liberty County. Reverend Dye Hawkins was a native of Liberty County. He was devoted to his aging mother of more than 90 years, and he was a local Black activist who was committed to civil rights. Reverend Hawkins wanted to organize a branch of the NAACP in Liberty County, but he received no support from the county's intimidated Black residents. In order for the NAACP to maintain a presence in Liberty County, we helped Hawkins form what is called an authorized committee, which may consist of seven or more members. Because Blacks had not voted in Liberty County since Reconstruction, Reverend Hawkins was determined to register them for the next election. When Hawkins requested that I meet with him and his committee, my wife and I traveled to Bristol one sunday morning. The little town was quiet when we arrived. Few people, particularly Black people, were walking the streets. Hawkins lived in a roughly honed, unpainted wooden frame house. The grass surrounding the house had been freshly cut to a line of pine trees that bordered the house. 118

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He told us that he owned all of the land, including several acres of pine trees. "Each week I have to threaten some Whites to stop them from cutting my timber," Hawkins declared. He added, "Black folks up here continue to face danger even in protecting our own property. We can't vote, and we have to send our children into another county to go to school. II I felt his keen anguish and frustration and Hawkins talked. He was determined to register Blacks to vote, for he was convinced that voting was the only means in which Blacks could effectively make a difference in their lives. After listening to Hawkins, I promised him that the NAACP would do everything possible to protect the voters. Then, I cautioned him against retaliating against Whites with violence. I also gave him Clarence Mitchell's, the NAACP Washington Bureau Director, telephone number and instructed him to call me and Mitchell should an emergency occur. As Helen and I drove back to Tampa that evening we worried about Hawkins and his elderly mother residing in such an isolated, wooded area. Through Hawkins' persistent efforts, he managed to get 12 Black citizens, including himself, registered to vote. As expected White segregationists began intimidating the Black citizens. Hawkins called me in a desperate plea for help. "All Hell has broken loose up here," he cried. "Since we went down and put our names on the roles, the KKK 119

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has threatened me and the rest of us. We been told that if we take our names off the books, nothing will happen to us. I'm trying to tell others to don't give up," he said. His voice was filled with emotion and desperation as he told me what occurred on his property each night: "They hide in the brush behind the trees and they keep telling me to come out and talk with them. But I ain't going to do it. They threw some kerosene rags and talked about burning me out of the house. I tell them that the first one that shows his face will get shot cause I got my gun fully loaded. I ain't gonna let them harm me or my mother." I wrote Governor Collins on February 10, 1956 and reported the incident to him. I requested that he take measures to protect the registered voters to ensure that their voting privileges were not threatened. Governor Collins promised to investigate the incident. Then we, including Collins, learned from the media that 10 of the 12 newly registered voters had voluntarily withdrew their names from the books. I wired Governor Collins, demanding that he protect Liberty County's voters. Later, I was insulted when Collins refused to send assistance; he said since the voters withdrew their names on their own accord, his hands were tied. He actually believed that the voters gave up their constitutional right and voluntarily withdrew their names? Hawkins, a true hero, never gave up. He later moved to Tallahassee, and I heard that he had lost most of the 120

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rich timber that had graced his land to White segregationists who burned his property. After Collins defeated Sumter Lowry, winning a second term, we noticed a definite change in his position. He supported the NAACP's efforts consistently. When the Democratic Party Site Committee chose Miami as the 1960 convention site, Reverend Leon Lowry, State Conference President, Attorney Francisco Rodriguez and I asked that the Democratic Party require the state to end racial segregation. We knew that otherwise hundreds of Black delegates would be forced to endure untold discrimination as hotels, restaurants, train and bus stations, gas stations, and other public facilities were strictly segregated. Unfortunately, rather than confront the state legislatures, the Site Committee chose Los Angeles. Instead of criticizing us, the Governor agreed with the NAACP and criticized the state for losing lucrative business opportunities. In 1958 when Jesse Woods, a Black man of Wildwood, was arrested and charged with whistling at a White woman in the local A&P, he was thrown into the Wildwood jail. During the night, a mob of White men broke into the jail and kidnapped Woods. No one had seen or heard from him since then. Meanwhile the Florida state Conference of the NAACP was in I session in Tampa. Delegates from across the state were attending the annual Freedom Fund Dinner on the same night 121

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when Woods was abducted. No one, including me, had heard of the incident. Roy Wilkins, the Executive Director of the NAACP, was scheduled to speak the following day at a mass meeting at st. Paul AME Church. Roy was traveling by train which stopped in Wildwood where the train broke into sections. One section continued to travel to Tampa while the other went on to Miami. Roy heard about the kidnapping during the lay over in Wildwood. I met Roy at Tampa Union Station; he immediately asked, "What about the suspected lynching of a Black prisoner last night?" I was caught by surprise. Here was my boss telling me about an incident that occurred less than 100 miles away when every NAACP leader was assembled in Tampa. Early the next morning, Monday, as I prepared to leave for Wildwood, I stopped by my office located at 705 E. Harrison Street, the same building in which the International Longshoreman Association was located. When I arrived, the president of the union, Perry Harvey, Sr. was there. He and other members advised me against traveling alone to Wildwood. One of the union members volunteered to go with me. I was grateful for the assistance, for during my six year tenure with the NAACP, I had never investigated a lynching. When we arrived in Wildwood the streets were deserted. Though I had been through Wildwood many times, never did I 122

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remember the streets so empty, particularly for a Monday morning. We noticed an elderly Black man who was standing beside the rode and asked him to direct us to a restaurant. He got into the car, promising to take us to a small restaurant owned by a Black woman Our new found friend and guide began asking us questions. He wanted to know if we had come from Tampa. "Are you from the NAACP," he asked as if he had been expecting us. I assured him that I was the state field secretary as I gave him one of my cards. "Good," he responded, "we've been expecting you." We drove east on Highway 48 for several miles until we came to a dirt road. Instead of leading us to a restaurant, our friend had taken us to a small settlement of small, wooden frame houses. He asked us to stop at the house with all the reporters in front. He pointed to one heavy-set man seated on the steps talking to a Black woman. "The fat man you see talking to my sister said he's from Governor Collins' office. But we ain't talking to him or no one else," he said. "Keep driving further down the road until you come to another house," he instructed, "We'll talk there." The second house also belonged to relatives of Woods. Here our friend introduced us as the NAACP men from Tampa. Only then did the real story of what happened to Jesse Woods began to evolve. one of woods' relatives told us what happened after the arrest. They put woods in jail and left it unguarded. Late 123

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that night, some White men broke into the jail and took Woods out into a wooded area. There, they beat him and left him for dead. They drove off unaware that Woods was still alive and able to crawl to the edge of the dirt rode. He was found early Sunday morning by his uncle who was leaving for Fort Walton Beach where he worked on a road construction project. He took Jesse, bloody and sore, back to the settlement and gave him first-aid. Woods' uncle and others then rolledhim into a rug and placed him in the back seat of their car. They did not know where Woods was taken but they believed that he was taken to a section of Miami called Liberty City. They wanted me to find him quickly before his abductors realized that he was still alive. We drove back to Tampa where I called Father Theodore Gibson, president of the Miami branch, and Richard Powell, an officer of the Liberty City branch. I asked them to go to the address given to me by Woods' relatives to see if Woods was there. I cautioned them not to reveal to anyone what they were doing. Late that night Father Gibson called to say that they could not locate Woods. This meant that I would have to return to Wildwood for additional information. Bettye Murphy, a reporter for an African American newspaper in Baltimore was a friend of Francisco Rodriguez and was visiting in Tampa. She and Rodriguez called me and asked if she could accompany me on my trip to Wildwood on Tuesday. I agreed, and we drove Woods' uncle's home in 124

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Wildwood. He did not know where Woods was but said he would show us where we could get more information. We drove to a fishing camp. There, we borrowed a row boat from the owner and proceeded down the Withlacoochee River. Approximately one mile down stream we encountered six people fishing with cane poles. Woods' uncle began talking to an elderly Black woman. He told her that I was with the NAACP and could be trusted. The woman hesitated briefly then told us to go to her house and lift up the rug where a loose floor board could be found. Underneath the floor would be a letter with a Fort Walton Beach address. Woods, she revealed, was located at that address. Back in Tampa, I met with Attorney Rodriguez to discuss my next move. The media began to show up; apparently, they suspected I knew something about Woods' whereabouts. But I wasn't talking. Bettye Murphy was eager to leave for Fort Walton Beach. She agreed to pay for my round trip airfare if I would let her accompany me again. I agreed. Traveling as Mr. and Mrs. Smith to avoid the media, we flew to Panama city where we then traveled on to Fort Walton Beach by car. When we arrived at the address, no one was home. Bettye Murphy insisted on entering the house anyway. The door was not locked, so we gave in to temptation and entered the house. In the back room, we found blood soaked bandages and a blood soaked rug. We also found a bottle of 125

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medication. Yes, Woods had been here; we were on the right track. When the occupants returned home, I introduced us and showed them the letter that had been given to us with their address on it. They told me that only one hour ago Woods had been taken to Dothan, Alabama where he was being cared for by a local minister. I was tempted to go to Alabama, but I resisted because I knew the NAACP had been enjoined from practicing there. Back in Tampa, two FBI agents came to my home. They wanted to know where Woods was. I agreed to give the information only after they agreed to guarantee that Woods would be protected once he was apprehended. The two agents contacted Governor Collins who assured them that the state would protect Woods. Only after Governor Collins' promise did I reveal Wood's location. Several hours later, the agents called me to confirm that they had found Woods and that he was in protective custody, yet to this day I do not recall the NAACP ever being credited with finding Woods. The Governor issued a strong statement condemning the acts of the cowards who abducted Woods. His statement drew praises from NAACP officials in Florida. Once again Governor Collins supported the NAACP when on Christmas Eve in 1959 Melvin Hawkins, brother of Virgil Hawkins, the plaintiff in the University of Florida desegregation suit, met with me and Attorney Rodriguez at my home. Hawkins was upset because his son had been arrested 126

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and charged with raping a White woman. someone told him that they overheard Sheriff McCall telling one of his deputies to arrest young nigger Hawkins because he was the nephew of that "nigger who was trying to get into the University of Florida." After hearing Melvin Hawkins' concerns and knowing McCall's reputation, we knew we had better move fast. It was near 11:30 p.m. when I called the Governor's mansion. Mrs. Collins answered the telephone. I asked to speak with Governor Collins. When she replied that he was sleep, I explained that this was an urgent matter. I spoke with Governor Collins who then spoke with Hawkins for about an hour. He gave Hawkins his wor d that his son would be located and protected. The next day young Hawkins was released from McCall's custody. Later, a teenage White youth said to be suffering from a mental illness was later arrested for the rape. Governor Collins continued to support desegregation efforts as he won the favor of the NAACP. As his decisions drew national attention, he was even favored by President Johnson. President Johnson invited Collins to serve as the Director of Community Relations Service. NAACP leaders in Florida believed that we helped prepare him for the outstanding job that he did as the director of that agency. 127

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CHAPTER 7. THE SIEGE OF TALLAHASSEE Tallahassee was the center of numerous civil rights protests, perhaps because it is the state's capital, perhaps because Florida A&M University is located there. The most significant demonstration of strength in the state of Florida was what we termed the "March on Tallahassee." The conception, implementation, and success of the march is an illustration of individuals' commitment to the "fight for freedom.11 The idea of a march was first conceived during the annual meeting of the Florida State Conference of NAACP Branches in November of 1962. At the NAACP Church Committee meeting follow-up meeting held in Orlando in February of 1963, the ministers accepted my proposal that the march should be held in Tallahassee since the Civil Rights Bill would be under consideration by the United States Congress, and there would be eight days left in which persons could register to vote before the books would close in Florida. Another reason why Tallahassee was ideal for a march was because the new governor, Farris Bryant, was the opposite of Leroy Collins who preceded him. Bryant was a known and avowed racist. He believed in racial segregation 128

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and had done nothing to improve race relations in his home of Marion County or in st. Augustine. on the other hand, in one of his televised addresses, Governor Collins, had remarked, As far as I'm concerned, I don't mind saying that if a man has a department store and he invites the public generally to come in his store, and trade, I think then it is unfair and morally wrong for him to single out one department ... and say he does not want or will not allow Negroes to patronize that one department. The NAACP wanted the march to protest the new Governor's segregationist agenda. At the time, the Reverend C.K. Steele was president of the Tallahassee branch of the NAACP. The chairman of the Church Committee, Reverend J.H. McKissick of st. Agustine, appointed Reverend Steele as chairman of the March on Tallahassee Committee. We also invited other civil rights, civic, and fraternal organizations to participate in the march. Several CORE members, including Patricia Stevens Due, a Florida A&M coed and Florida's CORE field secretary, participated on the march's committee. In addition, Father Theodore H. Gibson and Edward T. Graham, both of the Miami NAACP branch, were also appointed to the committee by Steele. Reverend Steele requested $1500 from the State Conference to promote the march. He also asked Dr. George Gore, president of Florida A&M University, to help sponsor the march. Dr. Gore was understandably hesitant at first to support the march. This is not to say that Florida A&M was 129

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not active in civil rights protests. As I will expand later, students often participated in sit-ins to denounce segregation. But, because the University was state supported, the Florida legislature, in particular, Representative Thomas Beasley, threatened to dismiss faculty members who advised students in protests. Dr. James Hudson, a faculty member at Florida A&M, and Daisy Young, the adult advisor for the college chapter of the NAACP and an employee at the University were specifically threatened. In my March 1960 report to the executive director of the NAACP, Roy Wilkins, I wrote, suggestions are being made by the legislative members because of the intense student activity to: 1) close Florida A&M University or move it to another part of the state if Negro students continue their demonstrations, 2) expel all students who took part in sit-down demonstrations, 3) prevent enrollment of northern students at both universities, [Florida A&m and Florida State). Dr. Gore was even brought before the Florida legislative committee, better known as the [Charley] Johns Committee that investigated the NAACP, where he was threatened with economic reprisals. Dr. Gore admitted to me the pressure that he and his faculty were experiencing because of the peaceful student demonstrations. Thus, when Reverend Steele told me that he was unsuccessful in soliciting Dr. Gore's support, I 130

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understood. I suggested to Steele that I talk to Gore; maybe I would have better luck. The next morning I flew from Tampa to Tallahassee. The meeting with Gore was very productive. On an earlier occasion, the State Conference had saved the day for him by paying fines for more that 50 students arrested for violating a court order prohibiting picketing. After that Dr. Gore had promised that I could use the University's facilities at anytime. I told him what I needed for the march, and Dr. Gore asked a professor to prepare signs including frames for the march. We also were given use of the large field on the campus, which became a staging area for march participants. He would not excuse students who wanted to take part in the marc h from class, but I was assured that the administration would not object to those without classes on that date taking part. With Dr. Gore's and Florida A&M's support, I knew that the march would be successful. As the day of the march drew near, controversy developed between the NAACP and CORE. It seemed CORE was not pleased with the route of the march that Reverend Steele and his assistants had designed. Reverend Steele had provided the state conference, Tallahassee city officials, and the Governor's office with a line of march that proceeded west of the capita l across US Highway 27 in front of the capital and into the baseball park directly across 1 3 1

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from the Governor's office. Reverend Steele reported that he had met with Governor Bryant who agreed to the march route. However, CORE insisted that marchers proceed east of the capital into the downtown area. CORE asked Reverend Steele to request a change in the march route; however, city officials would not agree. CORE would not give up. On March 26, the eve of the march, CORE members came to the Tookes Hotel where Ruby Hurley, Southeastern Regional Director of the NAACP, and I were staying. They demanded to see us and then insisted that we attend a meeting at the Episcopal Parish Hall that evening to listen to their demands. I told Ruby that I would go and that she should remain at the hotel. The meeting lasted past midnight. I let the CORE representatives know that the decision of the NAACP was to follow the original route. CORE decided they would not participate in the march and predicted that the march would be unsuccessful without their presence. On the morning of March 27 everything was ready. Buses began to roll in from Tampa, Ft. Myers, Ocala, St. Augustine and other cities. It was fiv e or six charted buses from Jacksonville which capped the affair. I was proud. We pulled together without much money. Some say that marchers totaled less than 1,000; some say that we totaled 3,000. When we started marching, I estimated that there were about 2,000 marchers. A s we passe d the capital directly under the 1 3 2

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Governor's office, a small group of CORE members stood on the corner as we passed. Reverend Eugene Tillman from Daytona and Reverend J.H. McKissisk joined in issuing a statement that declared, "we did not come to Tallahassee for a confrontation with the Governor, but to deliver a demand that Black Floridians were ready to push harder for complete freedom from racial segregation." Later, I learned that Reverend Steele wanted to invite Dr. Martin Luther King to speak, but Rutledge Pearson, State Conference President, said, "this is all Florida and all NAACP. We respect Dr. King, but we have the strength and know how here in our state." The Tallahassee march was a success. I do not believe that any other state conference in the southeast region had conducted a similar project. It served notice on the entire state that the murders of Harry T. Moore and h i s wife were no longer considered threats to Negro people. The next annual State Conference meeting of the NAACP was held appropriately in Tallahassee. In the closing meeting at the new theater on the Florida A&M campus, Roy Wilkins addressed several NAACP m embers as he praised Black citizens of Tallahassee f o r standing up to tyranny. Later, Reverend Steel e beca m e the firs t vice president of the SCLC, although w e considered him a s a nominee for the NAACP's National Board o f Directors. Still, the NAACP was grateful for Reverend Steele' s lea d ership as president of 133

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the Tallahassee branch, for the march would not have been a success without his precise planning. Florida A&M's college chapter of the NAACP was so involved in sit-in demonstrations and pickets in the city of Tallahassee that, as I mentioned earlier, the Florida legislature constantly threatened Dr. Gore, faculty, and students either with economic reprisals or expulsion. Nevertheless, the students and faculty were steadfast in their efforts and refused to be intimidated. I remember one Florida A&M protest in particular that caused quite a stir in Tallahassee in March of 1960. A group of Florida A&M students organized a sit-in at a downtown store. In my March report to Roy Wilkins, I wrote, The Mayor and the ex-mayor led police and commissioners to the various stores. Arrests were made at the order of the Mayor-Commissioner of Tallahassee. Students were told they would have three minutes to get out of the store. While i n the process of leaving, the order to arrest was given. Police did not disguise the fact that they were allied with the White Citizens Council, a supremacist organization. Nine White Florida State University students who joined the sit-in were also arrested and incarcerated.with the 36 Florida A&M students who had been arrested. The brutal police officers and jailers verbally abused the incarcerated protesters. They called Florida A&M's White allie s "nigger lovers," and the jail conditions were deliberately torturous. 134

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For example, 17 students were locked in a 6 feet by 6 feet cell from Saturday until Monday. The lights were turned off, leaving the students in constant, absolute darkness. The food that was served to them was obviously not fresh, having been prepared the day before. The police violated the students' rights, as one student upon arraignment stated to Judge John Rudd that he had not been allowed to make one telephone call during the entire time he was in jail. On March 12, 1960, 700 students gathered on Florida A&M's campus where they formed three lines and proceeded to march down three different routes to downtown Tallahassee. One jailed student was comforted knowing other Florida A&M students were protesting their incarceration when he heard a police officer state, "The niggers are on the march." The students had been instructed to return to Florida A&M's campus if the police ordered them to do so. But, as the 3rd group was turning around to return to campus, having been ordered by the police, the police began throwing tear gas into their ranks. Several of the females students, blinded by the gas, ran forward. Immediately, police began chasing the students and throwing gas. Several students were hospitalized for burns, and one received eye injuries. The NAACP defended the Black students involved in the picket because they were members of the NAACP. Attorney G.E. Graves was brought in from Miami to represent them. 1 3 5

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Local citizens worked to obtain bonds for the arrested students and kept the press abreast of developments in the case. Eleven students were tried and convicted. The sentences were set at $300 fine or a 60 day jail term. Eight of the students elected to serve jail sentences. One of those eight students was C.K. Steele's eldest son. Another was CORE field secretary Patricia Due. Two Florida A&M students from Tampa were involved in the protest. Arthenia Joyner, a member of the Tampa NAACP Youth Council and whose father owned the Cotton Club lounge in Tampa was arrested. And Alton White, whose father owned the Cozy Corner restaurant in Tampa, cooked and served meals for the jailed students. Another group of six students were tried, convicted, and given the same choice of sentencing as the other students, either a $300 fine or a 60 day jail term. The sentences were confirmed when we appealed them to a higher court. The NAACP was forced to pay the fines. The cost of the fight against racism was high, and this was especially true in Tallahassee where hundreds of students participated regularly in civil rights protests. In addition, most NAACP branches were faced. with raising funds for their local demonstrations. Fortunately, NAACP defense attorneys worked more so out of loyalty and dedication rather than for a salary. The NAACP was not able to pay Attorney Graves for his services in Tallahassee until 136

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the following year, even though his fee was a mere $400 for all of his work. In order to raise funds for the NAACP, I asked entertainers to perform fund raisers. One weekend when I ran into blues musician B.B. King at a motel in Jacksonville, I boldly asked him help the NAACP raise necessary funds to pay for the jailed Florida A&M students. He agreed to do three shows, one in Lakeland, one in Orlando, and one in Tampa. I was impressed by the strength of the Black community in Tallahassee that resulted from their commitment to kill Jim Crow. The NAACP organized the most successful protest march in the state of Florida while other civil rights organizations designed other successful demonstrations. Indeed, I was most impressed by the brave Florida A&M and Florida State University students who refused to be intimidated by the police and the legislature, who stood up to police as they were doused with tear gas, and who withstood police brutality as they were incarcerated for weeks and even months. The civil Rights Movement could not have been successful without these committed individuals and organizations. 1 3 7

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CHAPTER 8. THE FLORIDA LEGISLATURE: THE LAST DEFENSE The infamous Florida legislative committee was best known as the "John's Committee. It received this name from Senator Charley Johns who later became its chairman. In the spirit of McCarthyism, this committee was established to investigate organizations accused of being communist or organizations which did not endorse the Jim Cow practices of the state. A major subject was the NAACP. The committee's counsel was a native Tampan named Mark Hawes. Hawes was a tall, heavy, man, close shaven and red faced. He also served as counsel for the racist Florida Association for Constitutional Government. Eager to establish a political base for himself, Hawes worked hard to oblige the committee members and their constituents. The legislature had provided the committee with $50,000 to conduct its investigation and to bring civil rights leaders, especially NAACP officers, before the hearings. Hawes hired a former FBI agent to travel the South and to report on how other states were managing to by-pass the 1954 United States Supreme Court Brown decision. The investigator found that the states of Louisiana, Texas, Mississippi, and Alabama 138

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were aiming to outlaw the NAACP from practice. Hawes impressed upon the committee that Florida could do the same. Thus, the NAACP became public enemy number one in the eyes segregationists. The committee publicly stated that its purpose was to look into the activities of organizations whose missions were not in the best interest of Florida. In a letter addressed to Roy Wilkins, Thurgood Marshall, and Robert L. Carter in February, 1956, the committee's chairman, Representative, Henry Land, wrote: Contrary to what has been reported at various time by the press, this committee was not set up solely to investigate the NAACP or any other organization. The Act reads as follows: "It shall be the duty of the committee to make as complete an investigation as time permits of all organizations whose principle or activities include a course of conduct on the part of any person or group which would constitute violence, or a violation of the laws of the state, or would be inimical to the well being and orderly pursuit of their personal and business activities by the majority of the citizens of this state. Such investigations shall be conducted with the purpose of reporting to this legislature of the activities of such organizations to end that corrective legislation may be adopted if found necessary to correct any abuses against the peace and dignity of the state ... However, the committee could not convince the NAACP that it was not trying to destroy the organization.legally, as it targeted principal NAACP leaders, key branch members, NAACP attorneys, and allied organizations which supported the work of the NAACP. on March 9, 1957, subpoenas were issued. I was ordered to appear before the committee in Tallahassee on March 11, 139

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1957 at 9:00 a.m. The subpoena also ordered me to bring all books, records, correspondence, and other memoranda of the NAACP or the NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Funds, Inc. The subpoena ordered several NAACP key officials to appear before the committee as well. Reverend Lowry, president of the Florida State Conference; Attorney William Fordham; Edward D. Davis; Father Theodore Gibson, the president of the Miami branch; Mrs. Vernell Albury, the Miami branch treasurer; Mrs. Ruth Perry, the Miami branch secretary and secretary of the Florida State Conference; Richard Powell, an officer in the Liberty City branch; participants in the University of Florida desegregation suit; Attorney Horace Hill, of Daytona; several Florida A&M University faculty; and former officers of the Florida State Teachers Association, an organization comprised of Black teachers. It was my practice to immediately leave following each hearing and either telephone the NAACP National Office or, depending upon the availability of a typewriter, prepare a report to be submitted to New York while the proceedings were still on my mind. I have included several excerpts of testimony from these reports of the various. hearings. Virgil Hawkins was the first witness called to question. Hawkins was the plaintiff in the University of Florida desegregation suit. When he was called to testify, Hawkins asked for counsel. Attorney Horace Hill responded 140

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to this request. The following is a portion of Hawkins' testimony before the committee. Hawes: When did you first file to enter the University [of Florida]? Hawkins: 1949 Hawes: Did you talk with anyone concerning your filing? Hawkins: Yes. I talked with many people including Edward D. Davis. Hawes: Did you pay attorney's fees to Alex Akerman? (Hill objected at this point, stating that such testimony was privileged, but the objection was overruled.) Hawkins: No. Hawes: Did the steering committee represent any organization? Hawkins: No. The steering committee did not represent any organization. Hawes: Did the NAACP agree to pay attorneys in this case? Did they agree to pay Horace Hill any money? Hawkins: NAACP has never agreed to pay any money. Hawes: Has the Progressive Voter's League paid any money? Hawkins: I don't think so. Hawes: Did the steering committee ever discuss with you the process for raising money? Hawkins: We talked about it. Hawkins' testimony lasted approximately two hours. Hawes continued to question Virgil Hawkins about source of funding for the case. He wanted to know if Hawkins had received funds from the NAACP Legal Defense Fund. The next witness 141

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was Edward D. Davis, former Florida State Conference President and a victim of discrimination. Davis was asked similar questions. Hawes: Davis: Hawes: Davis: Hawes: Davis: Did you receive any money from the NAACP during the early days of the University of Florida case? A few dollars from Harry T. Moore. What was his office? Executive Secretary, Florida State Conference of Branches. Did you receive any money from the NAACP Legal Defense Fund? No. Mr. Akerman said that he would solicit aid and counsel from Mr. [Thurgood] Marshall. This testimony went on for some time, all bordering on the source of money for the University of Florida desegregation case. Davis also told of his tenure in office and how long he had been an NAACP member. In fact he confided in me after the hearing that he thought the whole thing was a waste of his time and was truly boring. The next witness called was Attorney William A. Fordham. His testimony began with inquiries about fund raising. He was asked to disclose how plaintiffs were solicited. His reply was that it was not NAACP policy to solicit plaintiffs. Mark Hawes had obtained several of Horace Hill's memoranda and letters written to and from the National Office as well as bills for attorney's fees, photo copies of 142

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cancelled checks, and other material related to the University of Florida case in an effort to prove that the NAACP was paying him for his services. When Hawes asked Hill "didn't these letters come from your files---weren't they in your office," Hill was caught off guard because he did not expect his private records to be brought into evidence. Nevertheless, he coolly answered that he did not know the where those letters carne from. He did not give anyone permission to search his files. Therefore, he could not testify as to the authenticity of the photo copies. The committee tried unsuccessfully to prove that the NAACP paid plaintiffs to serve in their suits. It did enjoy a small victory when it uncovered the NAACP had written a check payable to Virgil Hawkins. But that check was drawn from contributions made to support the University of Florida suit and was a loan made to Hawkins because he had suffered economic reprisals as a result of his involvement in the case. Because the committee members had shown that the NAACP had "paid" Virgil Hawkins, they continued to interrogate him the following day. They delved into his private finances, including his salary, his bank account history, other sources of income, and even his wife's salary and their debtors. Hawkins testified that debtors began to pressure him after the University of Florida suit became well publicized in 1956. "I wish I knew why they did it. But 143

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they even wanted my automobile,11 Hawkins told the committee. The committee next turned its attention to the Florida State Teachers Association. The legislatures' objective was to prove that the FSTA financially supported the NAACP's litigation efforts. It called Shirley Wayne Curtis, the principal of Pinellas County High School in Clearwater, to the witness stand. Curtis was also the executive secretary of the FSTA. Hawes asked him about the duties of the executive secretary, the FSTA's Board of Directors, and the content of board meetings that he had attended. Then Hawes asked Curtis had the FSTA ever contributed money to the NAACP; curtis' response was that he did not know. Hawes pressed further: Hawes: curtis: Hawes: curtis: Hawes: Curtis: Hawes: Curtis: Was the question of financing the University [of Florida) case ever brought before the Board of Directors? No. The question was never brought before the Board of Directors. Has the Association ever given money to the NAACP? As I recall, they have given an annual contribution of about $25.00 per year to the National Office and nothing to the state. Did the steering committee make an appeal for funds for the Hawkins' case? They made an appeal, but there was not an agreement about supporting this case. As far as you know, the FSTA has not put any money into the University of Florida case? As far as I know, no. 144

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A frustrated Hawes then called Dr. Garrett T. Wiggins to testify. Wiggins was the president of Washington Junior College in Pensacola and was the president of the FSTA from 1952-1953. Hawes continued with the same line of questioning, trying to elicit an admission that the FSTA had in fact supported the NAACP's suit to desegregate the University of Florida. However, Dr. Wiggins insisted that he knew nothing about the FSTA financing the University of Florida case. The committee finally concluded its hearings on March 30, 1957 after having interrogated several NAACP and FSTA members and after having investigated available NAACP records. Fortunately, the State Conference had enough time before the hearings began to export many of its records to the National Office where they were protected. After drawing their conclusions based on the testimonies and records, the committee published its report on May 31, 1957 in Journal of The House. The report subs tantiated NAACP suspicions that the committee's primary purpose was to attack civil rights groups in general and the NAACP in Beginning with what was generally known about the NAACP, its purposes and objectives, the following paragraphs started an outright effort to establish legal grounds to drive the NAACP from the state and punish certain officers and attorneys who had represented the organization and who were filing school 145

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desegregation suits. The following paragraphs are excerpts from the report: The NAACP is directly responsible for securing the decisions of the United States Supreme Court holding separate but equal facilities in education, both elementary and at the higher level, to be in violation of the United States Constitution. Having secured these decisions, the NAACP has set itself up as a sort of executive arm of the Federal Courts, which, standing alone, are not self-executing under the law. In order to accomplish its aim of complete integration, the NAACP has promulgated a very concrete and highly effective set of plans. A department is maintained in the New York offices of the Legal Defense and Educational Fund, Inc. A legal staff is, likewise, maintained at the Regional, State Conference, and branch levels. It is the primary duty of the various legal staffs to accomplish the aims of the NAACP by carrying on integration litigation in the cases furnished by the various local branches of the NAACP ... A carefully planned attack, legally, legislatively, and publicity-wise, is being executed in the following areas: in public education, in public recreation, in public transportation, in public health, in public and private housing, in all fields of employment, both private and public; and in all government agencies. In the next paragraph, the report attempted to prove that the NAACP used names of plaintiffs without their knowledge in filing school desegregation suits. I know of only one situation where a Tampa mother had filed a petition with the school board, and under pressure and questioning by a committee representative and Hawes, she told them that she did not know what she was signing. She was also alleged to have said that if she had known the petition was to desegregate schools she never would have signed it. At no time was the NAACP ever aware that people were being asked to sign petitions without fully understanding the petition's 146

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purpose. They went on to claim that the National Office had complete control over the law suits and plaintiffs involved. They said that plaintiffs had no control over the case, could not disagree with the attorneys, and were essentially at the mercy of the NAACP once they agreed to serve as plaintiffs. In references to these claims, the report stated: In the opinion of [the committee's) counsel, the methods for handling civil rights cases by the NAACP are contrary to the spirit and letter of the canons of ethics and general laws governing the conduct and practices of law; [sic) and amount to an abuse of the judicial processes of the courts in which these cases are carried on. The Florida State Teachers Association has concerned itself with integration law suits. It, together with the NAACP, has been one of the prime movers in instigating the filing of the Virgil Hawkins' case, to which the Florida State Teachers Association has been one of the principle [sic) financial contributors. The record shows that Virgil Hawkins and other plaintiffs involved in this case had virtually no control over the course of this litigation and absolutely no financial responsibility ... A closing comment in the report referred to ... evidence now available to the staff strongly indicates that the Communist Party has sought to, and to some degree may have actually, infiltrated the NAACP and sought to use it ... unfortunately, it is impossible to conduct this type of investigation and to hold the necessary hearings to determine the true nature and extent of this situation within the of this committee, the report concluded. on February 26, 1958, the committee had a final meeting in Miami's City Hall. Members of the Seaboard White Citizens Council and other hate groups active in the Dade county area occupied most of the several f ront rows. It had 147

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been highly publicized that Father Gibson and Mrs. Ruth Perry, the White secretary of the Miami NAACP branch, as well as other prominent Black citizens of Miami were scheduled to testify before the committee. This meeting was rumored to be the showdown between Hawes and the NAACP. Everyone was anxious to hear Ruth Perry's testimony. It was clear that the committee had targeted her because she was a White civil rights activist who despised racial segregation. Under tremendous stress, she stood fast. However, Mrs. Perry could no longer withstand the pressure when Representative Cliff Herrell, angrily pacing the floor, yelled, "any person who fails to cooperate with this committee is not fit to be a citizen of the state of Florida." I immediately concluded that his dramatic outburst was simply another play for publicity, considering the audience that was present observing the hearing. But, Ruth Perry, having already been brow beaten by the committee, burst into tears after Herrell's insult. Following this bit of courtroom drama, the committee recessed for lunch. Miami Attorney G .E. Graves, one of the NAACP counsels told me to tell Father Gibson to join us for lunch in his office. Frank D. Reeves, Dean of Howard Law School and a NAACP attorney who had participated in the Brown case, Father Gibson, and I got i nto the car we had rented. Never before hav e I revealed the content of that very important conversation, but during the course of the 148

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lunch recess, the four of us carefully calculated how we could effectively end the c o mmittee's tirade against the NAACP. Reeves asked Gibson if he was ready to break up the legislative committee hearing. Father Gibson, angry with the committee's abuse of Ruth Perry, quickly answered, "Hell yes." We advised him of the consequence that he could face, being held in contempt of the committee. But, Gibson responded that he did not care. In Graves' office, the two attorney's prepared a statement for Father Gibson to read. They rehearsed him on the questions he would have to answer and suggested when it would be appropriate for him to read the statement. When we returned to the hearing, Hawes looked for Reverend Edward T. Graham, the next witness. However, Graham was late, and Graves persuaded Hawes to call Father Gibson. Father Gibson took the stand and answered the opening inquiries. When Hawes began to inquire about his office in the NAACP, Gibson interrupted him. In his polite but pointed manner, Gibson said, "Just a minute sir. I have a statement that I would like to read to thi s committee. standing up from the witness chair, there no stopping him as he read the prepared statement. He scolded the committee I thought, in a priestly manne r and stalked out of the courtroom. I heard Hawes' thunderous voice: "Are you refusing to cooperate with this c o mmittee?" 149

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Proudly, Father Gibson turned his head and looked directly at the committee. "I am doing just that sir," he slowly articulated. Instantly, Father Gibson was the center of attraction as newspaper reporters and photographers swarmed him. The lights from the cameras followed him out of the hearing room, leaving the committee members and spectators in stunned silence. As expected the committee moved to cite Father Gibson for contempt. The case was tried by the state courts and landed in the United States Supreme Court where a ruling, although not unanimous, was favorable to the NAACP. The Charley John's Committee, with the blessing of the legislature, then turned its attention to investigating the of South Florida for allegedly promoting homosexuality and communism. 150

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CHAPTER 9. JACKSONVILLE: THE MODEL BRANCH When I talked with Theodore Redding, a retired Jacksonville postal employee, I learned a great deal about the history of the Jacksonville NAACP branch. Redding was president from 1942 until 1949. In 1953 Charles Vaught, another postal employee, was elected president. He began a program to increase membership because like most Florida branches, membership had decreased to fewer than 100 members as a result of the Moore assassinations. With Vaught's leadership, we began to recruit younger, active people into the NAACP. Among them were attorney Earl M. Johnson, Rutledge Pearson, Glen Washington, Dr. Arnett Giradeau, Dr. Hunter Satterwhite, and brothers Emanuel and Reginald Eaves. This group was eager to increase membership, raise funds, and free the branch from political influences, especially from the office of the Mayor. Political influence over the Jacksonville branch as quite evident when we conducted a membership campaign in 1953. Gertrude Gorman, a member of the NAACP field staff, was assigned to assist me coordinate the drive. A very influential black fraternal and civic leader, Joe James, was suggested to chair the membership, and Gertrude and I 151

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were enthused when he accepted the chairmanship. A meeting was held to organize the membership drive in F. Henry Williams' office located on the second floor of the Masonic Temple on Broad Street. Williams was a Black real estate broker in Jacksonville who served as the chairman of the Jacksonville branch's executive committee. Ruby Hurley once remarked that Williams ran the NAACP like he ran his office; he was in full control. Following the meeting, Gertrude overheard James say that he could not do what the NAACP expected of him because it might jeopardize his influence with City Hall. Gertrude told me about the remark, and we decided then that we would work harder to recruit people who were loyal to the organization. I recall another incident involving a Black man named Amos President who moved away from Jacksonville. Prior to his leaving, he was known to sell illegal alcoholic beverages. My investigation revealed that the Jacksonville police department received kick backs from President's profits, which eventually led to his disappearing from the city. Afflicted with tuberculosis, President returned to Jacksonville several years later. Within two days, police arrested him in his home. On the night of his arrest, he died from a wound on the back of his skull. Police reports claimed that he fell backwards, striking his head on the floor or some hard object. 152

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Immediately, Attorney Rutherford McGriff, a member of the Executive Committee, and I began our investigation of this suspicious death. On our visit to President's widow, we learned that one of the police officer's threatened her husband, warning President that he would not live to see another day. We returned to the house a few hours later, intending to get a signed affidavit from the widow, but her house had been abandoned. A neighbor told us that she was afraid of retaliation from the police and left without leaving a forwarding address. F. Henry Williams had agreed to hold a special executive committee meeting in his office so that the committee could consider McGriff's and my report. However, when we arrived at the office, the doors were locked and no one showed up for the meeting. It was incidents such as the aforementioned which evoked criticism of the Jacksonville branch. One of the major criticizers was Sam Jones, a member of the branch's Executive Committee. A friend of A. Philip Randolph, Jones organized the Porters Club and the Railroad Voters League. On January 28, 1960, I wrote Mayor Hayden Burns regarding the suspicious incident. The letter read: This office has received a request from a member of the family of one Mr. Amos President, is to have died while in police custody 1n your c1ty. It is the belief of our informant that Mr President died as a result of police brutality. We have also been informed that after the beating, he was not allowed to receive medical treatment [sic] nor did he 153

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telephone relatives or other persons who may have been able to help him. We are therefore requesting that you kindly investigate this matter to determine the cause of death and to what extent unnecessary force was used by the police in arresting the deceased. I do not recall if I ever received a response from Mayor Burns, but eventually, the case died from lack of action by the local branch. I will always believe that City Hall ordered the branch to "forget" the incident. Although the Jacksonville branch was intimidated by "downtown" politics at first, the branch became a model branch for other local branches because the new leaders refused to be intimidated. In 1953 Glen Washington was elected president of the local branch, and I believe Earl Johnson followed him in 1956. J.H. Goodson served until 1960. Then Rutledge Pearson was elected president. With new leadership carne renewed community support. Dentists, physicians, educators, and other professionals courageously and openly endorsed the NAACP. A major addition to the branch was the organizing of the NAACP Youth council. Rutledge Pearson, a gangling young man who suffered from discrimination on local interracial baseball team that he played for, was chosen to advise the eager youths. He was an energetic, charismatic teacher, and the young people rallied around him. The Youth council's membership was comprised of high school students and coeds from Edward Waters College. At a 154

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three hour workshop on NAACP policy, I explained to the senior branch their relationship with the Youth Council. The Youth Council is totally independent of the senior branch. Even though a member of the senior branch is expected to advise the Youth Council, the Council is considered an autonomous organization. Unfortunately, some members of the senior branch were not comfortable with the Youth Council's activities. They felt that the Youth Council should not do anything without the approval of the executive committee. The senior branch, for example, was opposed to the Youth Council participating in anti-segregation demonstrations. Thus, they criticized Pearson and the group for organizing a sit-in, arguing that sit-ins were not appropriate protest measures. Nevertheless, each afternoon during the months of July and August, the Youth Council demonstrated in certain designated downtown stores, challenging Mayor Burns proclamation that there would be no desegregation in Jacksonville. During one particular demonstration on August 26, 1960, the Youth Council was threatened by the Ku Klux Klan. In the morning prior to the demonstration, Rodney Hearst, president of the Council met the members at their usual meeting place, a Presbyterian church where Rutledge Pearson was a member. At their meetings, the members would hold a short prayer service; then a member of the senior branch 155

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would counsel them on how to conduct themselves during peaceful demonstrations. On that Saturday, Pearson warned the group that he had learned that the Ku Klux Klan was planning to attack the demonstrators. At the time, I was attending a youth retreat in Augusta, Georgia, but Pearson contacted me there, to find out if I could ask Mayor Burns to give the Youth Council the extra needed protection. Howe ver, Mayor Burns was out of town that weekend, and I was unsuccessful in obtaining additional protection for the group. The brave members of the Youth Council decided to go ahead as planned. Following the meeting, the Youth Council members left the church and proceeded downtown to several targeted stores, including Cohens Department Store, Woolworth, and Sears. Meanwhile, Klansmen were issuing baseball bats to their constituents at Hemming Park. As the young demonstrators continued to march, suddenly they were faced with a mass of attackers swinging their bats. The youths broke and ran toward Brush and Ashley Streets in the heart of Jacksonville's Black business community. Alerted by the threatened attack, a group of courageous began advancing toward the Klan, preparing to counter attack if necessary. Fortunately, before in any violence broke out, the Klan retreated back to the park. The Black community was incensed over the incident, as one unsubstantiated rumor 156

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that a youth had been killed, helped to inflame the community. On August 31, 1961, four Youth Council members were arrested and charged with unlawful assembly when they picketed the Berrier Ice Cream Parlor. One, Roderick Freeman, was sentenced to 30 days without a fine, while the others, Quillie Jones, Detry Lang, and Albert Williams, were fined $50.00 each. They were released on bond pending an appeal that was filed by Attorney Earl Johnson. The Youth Council decided to picket the ice cream parlor after they learned that the company discriminated against Black patrons. The youths began picketing on August 21, 1961. The owner, J .R. Berrier, said that a member of the Youth Council asked him just before they began their protest if he had made up his mind to hire colored employees. When Berrier responded that he had not given the matter any further thought and that he did not intend to hire additional colored employees, one of the members threatened, "Well we'll see about that." The Youth Council started picketing. About a week later, Berrier claimed that a member contacted him and asked, "Well now are you ready to hire colored people?" Berrier responded, "No I am not going to give in. I suppose that you are going to try to put me out of business." 1 5 7

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The member confirmed his supposition: "Yes that's the way its got to be." Berrier applied for an injunction against the youths which would bar them from congregating in front of the business or disturbing customers. Berrier claimed that the youths intimidated his Black customers. He claimed on one occasion customers was afraid to leave the store and that he had to contact the police to escort them from the store. He also claimed that on at least one occasion, Council members provoked a fight with customers. On September 14, 1961, Judge W.A. Stanley issued the injunction. The Berrier Ice Cream Parlor case was something new in Jacksonville; citizens were not used to Blacks opposing discrimination so adamantly. The case drew attention from the Black community and mustered growing support from Pearson and the Youth Council. Although the injunction barred youths from demonstrating at the ice cream parlor, it did not stop efforts to improve employment opportunities for Black people in Jacksonville. Despite disapproval from some members of the senior branch, threats from the Ku Klux Klan, and arrests, the Youth Council proved to be a valuable asset to the Jacksonville branch. In 1962 I addressed a mass meeting in Jacksonville. I began by reading a letter from Bishop Steven Gill Spotwood, the chairman of the NAACP's National Board of Directors. He wrote that he was "immensely proud of the type of 158

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leadership ... in the Jacksonville branch. That year the Jacksonville branch became one of the model NAACP units for the rest of the nation. I fully believe that Jacksonville earned that honor largely due to the persistence of the branch's Youth Council. In 1965 Pearson became president of the Jacksonville branch which continued to be very strong and active. Pearson's successful leadership was due in part to family support. His brother Lloyd worked as chairman of the voter registration drive and in the membership program. Pearson's wife, Mary Ann, was also an active and dedicated member of the Jacksonville branch as well as the State Conference. As leader of the branch, Pearson's teaching position was threatened often. He was harassed by three known Klan organizations in Jacksonville and was the object of several investigations by local and state agencies. Eventually, he became state Conference president and was elected to the NAACP National Board of Directors. I will never forget Rutledge Pearson because he was an outstanding leader and was dedicated to the NAACP and committed to civil rights. 159

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CHAPTER 10. SNAPSHOTS: OTHER FLORIDA ACTIVITIES ESCAMBIA COUNTY The NAACP gradually gained a substantial foothold in smaller counties and was able to correct many racial injustices. Still, the Florida Panhandle proved to be a challenge. Florida's panhandle extends from Escambia County to beyond Tallahassee in Leon County. Resistance to any form of organized efforts to improve the status of Black Floridians was greater in the Panhandle than in any area in the state. The one exception was Pensacola in Escambia County where many of the city's Black leaders were free from the threat of economic reprisals. Two very important suits that originated in Escambia County resulted in major victories for the Civil Rights Movement in Florida. The first suit was filed by Reverend R. A. Cromwell in 1944 which eventually led to the end of the White Democratic primary in Florida. Then, the case of Abraham Tolbert vs. Escambia County Board of Public Instruction was filed on behalf of several Black parents. The case was the first of its kind filed in federal courts to desegregate the entire school system in Florida. The 160

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attorney of record was Thurgood Marshall though Constance Baker Motley and Charles Wilson argued the case before Federal District Judge Harold Carswell. The court ordered the school board to submit a plan for desegregation within 90 days. The impact on the state was clear when Governor Farris Bryant, responding to the court order said in an American Press release, ... in effect, the Court was telling the School Board to use the Pupil Placement Law even if it meant that some Negroes would attend White schools." Judge Carswell also ruled on a case calling for the desegregation of the Leon County school system. The plaintiffs in that case were Reverend C.K. Steele, R.L. Anderson, and a Dr. Stevens. Actively supporting the case were the Reverends K.S. DuPont and Dan Speed, the A.M.E. church's presiding elder and a local business man, respectively. Later, Speed became the president of the Tallahassee branch. Reverend DuPont was also a businessman. He came from an upper middle class family that owned extensive property in Gadsen County and other Panhandle Counties. A mountain of a man, he pastored a local A.M.E. Tallahassee. He was a strong supporter of the NAACP and often traveled with me to Gadsen, Jackson, and Liberty Counties. OKALOOSA COUNTY 161

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Okaloosa County was not as progressive as the Escambia County branch. People there were very much intimidated by the White power structure, and the NAACP was not as successful there as in other areas of the state. By 1961 little had changed in the Okaloosa branch compared to other branches. The old members still controlled the branch. Though these members' allegiance to the NAACP was unfailing, they were not wiling to challenge their White oppressors to make a change. Young people, to a great extent, who lived in Okaloosa County did not participate in the NAACP for fear of some form of reprisal. Marcus Davis, a local principal and Middleton High School graduate, and his wife, also a teacher, were key spokespersons in Crestview a small town in Okaloosa County. I was able to solicit a promise from Marcus that he would attempt to recruit younger, aggressive m embers. However, he was cautious because of the White residents' severe opposition to the NAACP including that of Representative Bob Sykes who was a die hard segregationist. He feared that actively promoting a NAACP membership drive would put segregationists on guard who would then begin threatening members. In 1955 a famous case was tried in Crestview. The plaintiff was the People of the State of Florida; the defendant was First Lieutenant Robert L Williams of the United States Air Force. Lt. William s was on his way to 1 62

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report to his unit and eventually leave for Korea. It did not matter that he wore the uniform of the Air Force. What only mattered was that he was a Black man who had bought a ticket on a Trailways bus, sat in the front seat, and when asked to move to the rear, refused to do so. For his insurgence he was arrested. After he was released on bond, he continued on to his destination. The state decided to try his case even though he had departed the country for Korea. He was being tried for violating Florida's Jim Crow law that required Black passengers to sit from the rear of all bus transportation. Lt. Williams' attorney was Charles F. Wilson, the same lawyer who addressed Abraham Tolbert's school desegregation law suit in Escambia County. The case received a fair amount of publicity because it challenged intra-state segregation policies. Okaloosa County's Black residents were excited about the case, for many had never seen a Black lawyer practice in the courts. I encouraged them to attend the hearing to show their support of Lt. Williams, but most were afraid to come. Attorney Wilson was abe to draw a large following from Pensacola, and in the end, most of the court room seats were filed with Pensacola residents. Since Lt. Williams was already in Korea, the courts sentenced him in "absentia" and fined him. However, Lt. Williams was killed when his plane was shot down in Korea. 163

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BAY COUNTY I was impressed by the Bay County (Panama City) branch. Its officers were very aggressive and were more than willing to challenge racial discrimination at any cost. Throughout January 3, 14, and 15, 1961, I met with the branch officers. The Panama City branch had a new president, a young minister and insurance manager named Timothy Youngblood. Youngblood arranged for me to meet with a biracial group of minsters. I was pleased indeed, for a meeting of this type was unprecedented. Six White and eight Black ministers attended the forum. We discussed racial discrimination as it affected Bay County residents. Both groups were quite frank and admitted the following: 1) Former branch presidents were intimidated and afraid to provide civil rights leadership. 2) In 1959 during the heat of the legislative investigative hearings, the NAACP program failed to materialize because some branch leaders were reluctant to change the status quo. For example, when the local press and legislative committee investigators questioned former president, Reverend Paul L. Glover about race relations, Glover replied, "Everything is fine in Panama City." He made this statement in spite of the several complaints that the NAACP had received from Black Air Force personnel alleging racial 164

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discrimination on the base and despite that all public buildings in Panama City remained segregated. Glover was forced to resign following his statement. Youngblood organized a group of youths to initiate the first efforts to picket Panama City's restaurants. Youngblood also initiated the school desegregation suit that led to the end of racially segregated schools in Bay county. After Youngblood left Panama City, The Reverend Jackson E Jones became the new branch president. He was just as effective as Youngblood. Reverend Jones loved the NAACP. He was dedicated to the organization's objectives to eliminate all vestiges of racial discrimination. Jones moved from Pensacola to Ft. Walton Beach where he was successful in bringing together that city's splintered Black community. When he moved to Panama City, he was appointed pastor of the largest Baptist church in Panama City. Under Jones' leadership, NAACP memberships increased and activities attracted more young people into the NAACP. Jones worked closely with me He always kept me abreast on branch activities. Sometimes he would even call me in the middle of the to report any problems in the County and seek advice as to how to solve them. HOLMES COUNTY 165

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In July 1965, ten Black teachers of Bonifay in Holmes_ County were notified by school officials that they would no longer be needed after the schools were to be integrated because Holmes County would be closing down all Black schools and sending Black students to the former White schools. Some of the Black teachers had more than 20 years service. I called Reverend Jones and asked him if he would accompany a local lawyer to investigate the situation. They and another branch member traveled to Bonifay where they talked to the teachers. The NAACP "watch dog" committee had been specifically formed in anticipation of such incidents as that affecting the Bonifay teachers. Representatives from the committee met with the State Superintendent of Education, Thomas E. Bailey, in Tallahassee on behalf of the Bonifay teachers. ORANGE COUNTY To learn about Orlando, it was important to meet at John Frazier's Luncheonette where current committee affairs were major topics of discussion. On my first trip there in 1952 to visit the branch, Attorney Paul Perkins, a lawyer in the Groveland Case, met me there. Over some of John's scrambled eggs, grits, and sausage, Paul introduced me to a cross section of orlando's Black citizenry. Paul Perkins 166

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was the nephew of the Jacksonville attorney known as "Colonel'' Perkins. The elder Perkins was a pioneer lawyer who defended many plaintiffs who sued for equal salary and voter registration in Florida. I also learned that Paul Perkins' office was in a building owned by Dr. I.S. Hankins, a retired medical doctor. Dr. Hankins was a life member of the NAACP and a strong backer of Paul Perkins. I learned that while Dr. Hankins did not assume an active role in the branch at the time, the NAACP could always depend on him for financial support. Fraizer's restaurant was located in a building that I believe was owned by another influential Black resident, Z.L. Riley. Riley had the attention of downtown politicians. He was an officer in the Orlando Negro Chamber of Commerce. Apparently, Mr. Riley served as a liaison between the Black community and White city officials. When, for example, the NAACP asked the ma y o r to put up a banner advertising a NAACP meeting, we were told that we would have to go through Mr. Riley. We refused to conduct business with Mr. Riley because he was not an elected city official. We had no argument with the Negro Chamber of Commerce, but we objected t the manner in which the city appointed its Black leaders. In 1952 the branch president was Dan Ware. Ware made every effort to obtain support from Orlando's Black community. As in othe r communities, people were still 167

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intimidated by the Moore murders. In addition, people were afraid they would be threatened by economic reprisals. Working with Ware were Mrs. Azalie McCloud and Mr. Taylor Snead. Mrs. McCloud was the Orlando branch secretary. Mr Snead was one of the most loyal and active members in the branch. I learned that at each branch meeting, Snead was responsible for at least five new memberships. His efforts earned him the nickname "membership man." The team of Ware, McCloud, and Snead was hard working and dedicated to the cause of freedom. They served to bridge the gap which later led to one of the best organized branches in Florida. Another active member at that time was Berneice Wheeler. Berneice was very dependable. I could always count on Berneice to contact key NAACP members, to work with Taylor Snead and our membership drives, and to argue affirmatively for civil rights programs when others in the Black community were afraid to or just disinterested. Mrs. Marie Palmer, another member who worked diligently with Ware and McCloud, later became secretary and president of the Orlando branch and state NAACP treasurer. Mrs. Allie Smith who often hoste d me when I visited Orlando assisted and guided me. She was the wife of a funeral director. Mrs. Smith introduced me to Dr. Hankins' wife, Mrs. Lylah Hankins. When I met Mrs. Hankins, she was relatively new to orlando, having moved there from New Jersey after she married or. Hankins. A s I visited with Mrs. Hankins, I 1 6 8

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asked her if she would participate in the Orlando branch membership drive that year. I explained that we had set a goal to add 150 new members that year. Mrs. Hankins was surprised that our goal was so low because she had actively participated in her local branch when she lived in New Jersey. She was well aware of how important the NAACP was to improving the lives of African Americans, and thus, recognized the need for a thriving organization with active members. However, she did not commit to helping immediately. She preferred to discuss matters with Dr. Hankins first. Fortunately, for the NAACP, she called a few days later and consented to leading the membership drive. Mrs. Hankins almost single handedly set out to organize the drive. Her goal was 1,000, ten times as much as I had suggested! Dr. Hankins supported her effort 100%. With his help, she recruited workers from the local medical and dental groups, Greek letter organizations, churches, the Masonic Order, and any other organization with a large Black membership in Orange County. As a direct result of her efforts, Orange County's membership exceeded even her goal. with more than 1800 new members that year, Orlando branch was recognized by the State Conference and honored at the annual national NAACP convention. The State Conference commended Mrs. Hankins and her assistants, Taylor Snead, Mavis starke, Georgia Woodley, Dr. Robert Hunt, and Freddy 169

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R. Johnson, the newly elected branch president and central Life Insurance Company's Orlando branch manager. Armed with over 1800 members, community reluctance to move to eliminate racism in Orange County, Klan activity, fear of economic reprisal, and even the fact that the chairman for the Florida legislative committee investigating the NAACP was Henry Land did not stop the organization from taking direct action. Under Freddy Johnson's leadership, the Orlando NAACP Youth Council was organized. The group staged sit-in demonstrations at Kress and Woolworth Department Stores. When four members of the youth council were arrested for peacefully demonstrating, Dr. Hankins posted their bond. In 1962 Norris Woolfork, a young lawyer, set up practice in Orlando. He represented the four youths. In addition, he represented several parents who decided to sue the Orange County School Board for racially segregating its schools. The plaintiffs were J.P. Ellis, a graduate of Bethune Cookman College and a parent of several children enrolled in orange county schools; Georgia N. Woodley, Mavis Starke, Emma Goines, and Altamese Prichett . The NAACP was very successful in Orange County after the membership improved significantly. The branch successfully closed down a Publix Supermarket on Robinson street and orange Blossom Trail after Black customers decided to boycott because of racial discrimination. 170

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Another protest involving the Winn-Dixie supermarket resulted in their hiring Black clerks and cashiers. Among those who went on to serve as branch officers were Marie Palmer, Dr. Robert Hunt, and Reverend Toomer. I also recall that Mrs. Woodley, Berneice Wheeler, and Mrs. Palmer served as branch secretaries. PINELLAS COUNTY St. Petersburg, the largest city in Pinellas County, is known as the "Sunshine City,'' a nickname given to it many years ago by the local Chamber of Commerce and the local newspaper. If the sun did not shine on any day, the paper would be free of charge that day. For St. Pete's Black citizens, the sun never shined any day. Like other southern cities, racial discrimination permeated the air, and like other cities, the Black community in St. Pete accepted the white power structure's paternalism that was enforced through Jim Crow laws. However, unlike other Florida cities, st. Pete had some White leaders and strong willed Black individuals who were not willing to compromise civil rights. Noah Griffin was quite active in the pursuit for equal salaries for Black teachers in Florida. Besides Griffin there was Ms. o.B. McLin. Ms. McLin was a long time supporter of the 'NAACP and an outspoken individual. She 171

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also played a prominent role in the Florida state Teacher's Association and local community affairs. She was the secretary of the St. Petersburg NAACP branch as well. Just like modern St. Petersburg, the city's White population consisted primarily of retirees from the North. Retirees were largely responsible for establishing effective communication between the races. In fact several White clergymen like Ben F. Wyland, Robert H. Gemmer, and Lamar Clements were active in bringing about Black and White Ministerial Associations. Clarence Mitchell, who was the Director of the Washington Bureau of the NAACP, suggested that I meet with Nelson Poynter, the publisher of the St. Petersburg Times. Poynter was willing to help me promote the NAACP and civil rights. We often met in his office where we discussed the NAACP's efforts in Florida to implement the 1954 U.S. Court decision denouncing racial segregation in schools. He assigned a Black reporter named Samuel Adams to cover the NAACP. Sam, his wife, and I maintained a close relationship until they moved from Florida. Mrs. Adams was also elected secretary of the St. Petersburg branch. Black physicians played a dominant part in improving racial conditions in St. Petersburg. For example, Drs. Ralph Wimbish and Fred Alsup were instrumental in integrating the Pinellas County golf course as a result of their suit, Wimbish and Alsup, et. al vs. the Pinellas 172

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County Commission and Corps Gold Corporation. Dr. Alsup also sued to desegregate the St. Petersburg Beach and other recreational facilities. As a dedicated member of the NAACP, Dr. Alsup generously provided bonds for youth who protested desegregated lunch counters. In addition, Drs. Robert Swain and Eugene Rose, former classmates of mine from Bethune Cookman College, participated in the Civil Rights Movement as well as Drs. B.F. Jones, Orian Ayer, and Harry Talliaferro. Among Black religious leaders, the Reverends Enoch Davis and H. McNeal Harris were stalwarts. They often offered their churches for mass meetings. Reverend Davis was a charismatic leader who persuaded not only other Black clergymen to join the struggle but convinced the ministerial association to integrate. In 1952 F.A. Dunn, a Central Life Insurance agent, was president of the St. Petersburg branch. Although the St. Pete branch had a small membership, the members were very committed and active. Dunn had served in the NAACP with Harry T. Moore and Edward Davis at the state level and Mrs. Fannye Ayre Ponder at the national level. Ten years later when Leon Cox was president, the branch was just as active. Cox successfully persuaded many businesses like the Howard Johnson Hotel to lower its racial bars. For those businesse s that refused to desegregate, like the Florida and the C entral Theaters, h e organized the 173

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Youth Council which demonstrated against them. In my January 17, 1962 letter to Robert Carter, General Council of the NAACP, I addressed the Youth Council's work: On January 14th the group tried to purchase tickets to a showing of King of Kings. The manager roped off the entrance, allowing only Whites to enter the theater. He stated that he was operating a private business and that anyone who entered even to purchase tickets would be trespassing. On January 15th Mr. Cox was called to the office at Gibbs Junior College, where he was employed as an instructor, by Miss Johnny Ruth Clark, a secretary at the college. Miss Clark stated that she was told to tell Mr. Cox that if he continued to organize students, he would be dismissed as of January 16, 1962. She also stated that the Board of Public Instruction did not want students at the Junior College involved in the issue. On January 16th, Mr. Cox called the Superintendent of Schools, Mr. Floyd Christian and asked for clarification. Mr Christian stated that if Mr. Cox was arrested, he would suspend him pending the outcome of his trial. Mr Cox was still active, however, although he no longer attempted to purchase movie tickets. As many as 50-60 persons have participated in the effort at one time, and the manager closed the ticket office on several occasions. Eventually, some members of the Youth Council were arrested and charged with disorderly conduct. The courageous youths who were arrested were Earl Williams, Eli Williams, Artis L Livingston, Titus A. Robinson, Arnett T. Doctor, Jimmy L. Swain, Harvey L. Hammonds, Ruby L. Hollins, Vernon Kearns, and Joseph W. Lampkins. When the youths tried to purchase tickets at the Central Theater, the manger posted a foot barrier and designated ushers to "control the crowd." In order to reach the ticket booth, people would have to cross the barricade 174

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and pass an usher. Of course, the ushers refused to allow .the Youth Council members to purchase tickets. Thus, the youths climbed the barricade where they were immediately confronted by the manger and ushers. None of the youths verbally or physically assaulted the ushers, but one youth was attacked by the manger. The police charged them with disorderly conduct because they climbed the fence. In 1962, I met with Talmadge Rutledge and others to discuss organizing an NAACP branch in Clearwater. Though a charter may have existed there before 1962, I had never seen one. Rutledge was elected the first president of the Clearwater branch. A policeman named Leon Bradley was bitter because even though he wore the same badge as White policemen and carried a gun as a law enforcement officer, White and Black officers were racially segregated. However, Bradley was able to curb some of the racism that existed on the force. Jackie Robinson was invited to speak at one of the chapter's mass meetings. Robinson's appearance marked the first time that a nationally known figure had spoken for the NAACP in Clearwater. He spoke at a church near the railroad track. He did not mind that a local train passed during his speech. After the speech, he was interviewed on a local radio talk show which added notoriety to the Clearwater branch. 175

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The NAACP earnestly demonstrated against signs that .marked racial segregation in the downtown business sector. But, the most effective attack against racial discrimination came when Bradley joined with several parents to break down the dual school system in Pinellas County. A petition was filed on behalf of Bradley and other parents. When the school board rejected the petition, the NAACP Legal Defense Fund in New York agreed to represent the petitioners in a suit against the Pinellas County School Board. Attorney James B. Sunderlin was assigned to the case that was filed in May of 1964. In January of 1965, Federal District Judge Joseph P. Lieb ordered the Board of Instruction to comply with the 1954 Brown decision and to design a plan that would desegregate the schools. LAKE COUNTY Mention the case of State of Florida vs. Shephard, and most NAACP leaders in Florida will relate it to Lake County or Sheriff Willis McCall. Mention Groveland, and they will tie in the riot that occurred there in 1948 four Black youths were accused of raping a White woman But, mention Fruitland Park, and only a few people will know about this small community where two Black men where framed for the rape of a White woman. 176

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I've mentioned the Groveland case in a previous chapter. I also discussed Sheriff McCall's arrest of Virgil Hawkins' nephew accused of raping a White woman but released after Governor Collins responded to the NAACP's request. However, the charges against Jerry Chatman and Robert Shuler and their subsequent convictions are illustrative of how justice cowered by racism has resulted in the deaths of many innocent Black men in the South. Sheriff McCall was also involved in this case. At the time of their convictions, Shuler was 23 and Chatman was 26. They were charged with raping a White woman who lived alone in Fruitland Park. They were convicted in July 1960 and sentenced to die in Florida's electric chair in September of 1962. Both men had lost their appeals and were sitting on death row when I obtained evidence that they had been framed. I was working at m y office one morning when my secretary, Margie Johnson, told me that there was a White man who wished to speak with me. She said, ''He says that it involved the two Black men who are supposed to die in the chair." The man, Noel Griffin, was one of Sheriff McCall's deputies who decided that he could no longer stand by idly and see injustice continue He confessed that Chatman and Shuler had been falsely accused and convicted on trumped up evidence. Fortunately, the men's attorney, Francisco 177

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Rodriguez, was in his office when I asked Margie to bring him to my office. Chatman and Shuler were convicted on the testimony of two of McCall's deputies, L.G. Clark and James Yates, who submitted plaster casts of shoe prints allegedly made at the scene of the crime. "But," Griffin told us, "the casts were made by the deputies in Yates' yard." Attorney Rodriguez tried to get a stay of the executions based upon the new evidence but was unsuccessful. In the meantime, The FBI was brought in to investigate Griffin's allegations while the Tampa Tribune agreed to cover the story. The Tribune reporters gave outstanding coverage that forced Florida's judicial system to take note of the case. The FBI's report showed that the footprint caste had indeed been taken from Deputy Yates' yard. Judge W. Troy Hall, the circuit Court Judge for Lake County, ruled in favor of Rodriguez's petition after the FBI's report was in. Thus, Chatman and Shuler were granted a 40 day stay of execution while the courts investigated the cases further. Rodriguez's petition also alleged that Gordon G. Odom, Jr., a state attorney, Sheriff McCall, and Deputies Yates and Clark violated their oaths of office and even went as far as to frame defendants. He further accused them of obstructing justice and suppressing evidence. The victim of the alleged rape had been confined to the McClenny Mental Institution where she was sent following the 178

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rape. The NAACP received a copy of the letter from her addressed to Robert Shuler's mother in which she stated that she told Sheriff McCall that Shuler was not one of her assailants. She also stated that McCall was the only person she had told this to. Both Yates and Clark were indicted for their crimes. We were still concerned about the Groveland case. Harry T. Moore had raised questions about the testimony given in the case. The information provided us by McCall's deputy raised questions concerning the veracity of the testimony in the Groveland case. My letter of January 23, 1963, to Robert L. Carter, NAACP General counsel, included the following concerns: Enclosed with this letter is a reproduction of a news article showing that Lake County's Chief Deputy, Criminal Investigator, and aid to Sheriff Willis McCall have been indicted by a Grand Jury for perjury in a case where two young Negroes were convicted of rape and sentenced to the electric chair. In doing research into the Groveland case, I was given another clipping which tells of evidence similar to the above that was denied admission and later admitted (into evidence) (so I am told). I was searching to find out if, when ordered to produce the castes of Walter Lee Irving andjor the other Groveland defendants, Yates testified that the castes had been "lost or destroyed." A question has been raised concerning Irving, who is still in prison. If something can be done to get him released. My concern was that Yates may have introduced the same kind of evidence to obtain convictions in the Groveland trial. 179

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VOLUSIA COUNTY From 1940 to 1942 I was a student at Bethune Cookman College. Even with presence of the College and with the national and international prestige of Dr. Mary McLeod Bethune, racial segregation created a barrier that was ever present in Volusia County. However, on campus Mrs. Bethune insisted that students would not be separated by race at her college. Everyone were to be treated as equals, regardless of their race. Occasionally White visitors would attend the Sunday afternoon worship services; they were seated without the usual designated areas reserved for White people. Mrs. Bethune was an avid foe of racial discrimination, and she encouraged us never to bow down to this evil. When I returned to Florida as the NAACP field secretary in 1952, I met with Mrs. Bethune or Mayme, as we affectionately knew her. She was happy and proud that I had been hired by the NAACP and promised to give support to the organization's efforts to end racial discrimination. She wanted Daytona to be one of the leading cities in the fight for freedom, but as I left her office, she predicted, "It will take a great amount of effort at shaking up most of Daytona's Black citizens before the community will move to fight against discrimination. Between 1952 and 1956 the membership of the Volusia county branch was stagnate. A retired railroad worker named 180

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Horace Reed was the branch's president. Like other branch presidents during this time in Florida, Reed was faithful to the NAACP, but he failed to encourage membership as a result of Harry T. Moore and his wife's deaths. When a Black restaurant owner named Mrs. Flossie M Crinton was elected secretary of the branch, branch membership began to pick up. For a long time NAACP meetings were held at her restaurant on Campbell Street. She personally asked some of the new ministers that had moved into the area to assume active rolls in the NAACP. She also persuaded a member of the Bethune Cookman College staff named Charles Cherry to join. It was under Cherry's direction that the branch began to exert itself on community affairs in the county. On February 24, 1961, I met with the officers of the branch and group of youths from Deland. The group was protesting segregated facilities at the Woolworth in Deland. I learned from them that a group of teenagers had organized themselves and was planning to protest in Daytona and Deland. I was concerned because the branch had worked diligently to negotiate with the Daytona Council on Human Relations. This was an interracial organization that was scheduled to meet with managers from several businesses within two weeks to discuss desegregation. The council felt that a public protest of any nature in this delicate stage of negotiations would upset plans for the meeting. 181

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As the field secretary, I had to consider both side's arguments and alternatives. I decided that since the Council on Human Relations was scheduled to meet with management in only two weeks that a public demonstration would not be our best interest. Instead, I opted to hold a public meeting where we would announce that negotiations to end racial discrimination in public facilities were in process. I suggested that people write letters to the national headquarters of major store chains. Finally, I suggested to the group that it could organize a buyers protest which had proved to be very effective in most cases. On February 29, the public meeting was held by the Volusia County branch. They decided the best way to protest was not to jeopardize the future negotiations. It would be advantageous to write letters and boycott the businesses. The NAACP was also successful in initiating a school desegregation program in Volusia County. Two Black students named Paula McMillan and Dietrich Golden were transferred to a White school at the request of their parents and with the unanimous approval of the Volusia County School Board in August of 1961. In the early 1960's, the Florida State Conference of NAACP Branches held its annual meeting in Daytona. Cherry and a young Baptist minister named Eugene C, Tillman planned and promoted the meeting by encouraging the lethargic community to participate in various workshops. The Sunday 1 82

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afternoon meeting was held in the new gymnasium on the Bethune-Cookman campus. The keynote speaker was Dr. John Morsell, assistant to Roy Wilkins and an expert on race relations. However, in the midst of Dr. Morsell's speech, the students left the auditorium, disgusted that only a few members of the community had attended. I remembered Dr. Bethune's prediction as I scanned the audience that the majority were college students. Despite the Volusia County's unwillingness to fight Jim Crow in the early 1960's, by 1966 Daytona was, as Dr. Bethune had hoped, one of the top branches for civil rights activity. Its leadership fully supported demonstrations around the state. The branch, for example, posted bonds and provided money for attorney's fees during the St. Augustine protests. The Volusia County branch was quite turned around from the days when Horace Reed singlehandedly struggled to save the branch's charter. BROWARD COUNTY In 1952 the only active NAACP branch in Broward County was in Ft. Lauderdale. The president of the branch was an elderly man named Thomas M. Mandy. Mandy is what we call today a pioneer in the struggle for freedom. When I met Mandy, he appeared to be close to 70 years in age. He was proud to be affiliated with the NAACP. But, as I soon 183

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learned, most members of this city, having been deeply scarred by Jim Crow laws, were ashamed of the NAACP. The Black community was greatly intimidated by the white power structure that enforced strict segregation. Ft. Lauderdale's bus system not only required the races to sit separately but established separate bus stops for passengers based on race. Mandy hoped that I could help him rejuvenate the branch. Dr. Von Mizell, a Black physician, an activist, and Mandy's right hand man, inspired Mandy when he became discouraged. Mandy arranged my first meeting with Dr. Mizell in Dr. Mizell's office. Seven persons attended the meeting. They were introduced to me as the executive board; apparently these core members were the only active members in the branch. Since the annual meeting of the State Conference of Branches was to be held in Ft. Lauderdale that year, the branch was concerned about boosting its membership, and members sought direction from me. I told them that I would happy to remain in the community to help them prepare for the meeting. For one month the branch worked enthusiastically. We met almost every night. The memberships increased as people in the community became curious and excited about the NAACP's sudden activity. Edward Davis, former state conference President, would attend the meeting of State 184

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Conference Branches. Conference president. This would be his last year as State In addition Walter White, the Executive Director of the NAACP, was scheduled to speak at the meeting. More than 100 delegates were expected to attend the meeting which would begin Thanksgiving morning and continue throughout the weekend. All the delegates would be housed in private homes because segregation laws did not allow for public accommodations. Most of the conference meetings were to be held at the Mt Herman AME Church, pastored by Reverend "Shep" Hunter, Sr. the grandfather of Charlene Hunter Gualt. Gault would be the first Black student to attend the University of Georgia. Everything moved smoothly as planned. By Saturday 100 delegates had registered. Our first snag came when Reverend Holly, the pastor of the Baptist church at which Walter White was scheduled to speak, refused to let us use the church if the Miami Jewish Choir was to perform. His reasoning was that Jews were responsible for Jesus Christ's death. Reverend Holly was adamant in his decision even after members of the local community mentioned to him that Walter White was internationally known and had worked hard all his life to end racial discrimination. They tried to show him that Jewish people were perhaps the greatest allies of the Black community. 185

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Meanwhile, Reverend Hunter said he would open his church if Holly would not bend, but late Saturday afternoon I was notified that a compromise .had been reached with Reverend Holly. He agreed to allow the choir to sing in the church only if it stood and sat behind the pulpit. sunday afternoon was a great success as the Miami choir drew a loud applause from an entirely integrated audience. Walter White delivered the program for the State Conference in his address. Mandy was elated when he began to see the changes in the community. He hated to retire as president, but knowing that the organization was expanding as well as on its way to fighting discrimination, eased him. He knew that all of his hard work through the years was finally paying off. The next elected branch president was named Taylor, but when Mrs. Eula Johnson, the widow and owner of a small business, was elected president, real changes began to occur. A Youth Council for the Ft. Lauderdale branch was organized in 1961. They immediately planned a demonstration for the world famous Ft. Lauderdale Beach. As they organized, they met at Mrs. Johnson's horne on a regular basis where they would discuss the rudiments of effective protesting. When I returned to Ft. Lauderdale to assist with the demonstrations, I found that the same racial segregation policies that existed in 1952 were being enforced by the city and county. 186

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The Youth Council marched toward the beach but when I they neared the bridge that connected the beach to the mainland, they were always met by police officers who forced them to return. Nonetheless, each day more people joined the marches as the Youth Council gained tremendous support. Although most members of the community fully supported the group's efforts, some Black domestic workers were afraid that the demonstrations would cost them their jobs. Some Black ministers denounced the demonstrations from the pulpit while some people reported that they had received threats of violence from the Ku Klux Klan. The daily marches were well advertised as the Ft. Lauderdale and Miami media provided coverage. When it was obvious that the Youth Council was not planning to give up, city officials asked to have a meeting with Mrs. Johnson, Dr. Mizell, and me. Also present was Attorney G.E. Graves of Miami. The Mayor was very upset with us and assumed that the Ft. Lauderdale citizens were marching only because the NAACP wanted to stir up trouble in his community. Never did he mention ending racial discrimination. He instead demanded that we advise the community protesters to end their marches. I responded by reminding the Mayor that the youths had a Con stitutional right to demand that segregation end. In addition, we were not only concerned with ending segregation on the beach but in employment and all public accommodations. Finally, we reminded him that the Ft. 187

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Lauderdale had not complied with the 1956 Montgomery case that outlawed segregated seating on inter-city transport. The city refused-to compromise. Eventually the city entered in court to enjoin the NAACP from "organizing, conducting, coercing, participating in or urging organized efforts to end racial segregation at the Ft. Lauderdale Beach." Named in the suit were Mrs. Johnson, Dr. Mizell, a young law student assisting the NAACP, and me. We were also charged with interfering with the City's right to conduct commerce. Representing the NAACP were Attorneys Frank Reeves, (who would be one of the lawyers in the 1954 Brown case), and G.E. Graves. The trial lasted about four days. I believe the turning point in the case came when the Mayor was called to the stand. Reeves questioned him about the city's racial policies. The Mayor denied that buses were still segregated and that segregation existed in other municipal operations. As the Mayor testified under oath that the city did not discriminate against its Black citizens, I noticed that several city officials left the court room. I later learned that they had ordered the removal of all signs designating race from municipal operations. After the trial, Reeves bragged that this was the first time he had desegregated a community without having to go into Federal Court. The judged ruled against the city. 188

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Florida's miscegenation law was also challenged in Broward County. A Black Jamaican married a White woman after moving to Broward County and was arrested for violating Florida's miscegenation law. Attorney Graves filed suit for the man which resulted in the overturning of the miscegenation law. BREVARD COUNTY Nick Ford and Elmer Silas were senior members in the Cocoa Beach branch of the NAACP. Both men had worked with Harry T. Moore. Ford served as the long time president of the Cocoa Beach branch while Silas had served as the secretary of the branch. In 1959 both men decided to retire as a result of their age and failing health. Ford was also concerned about his wife's employment as a teacher. As both of them were nearing the age of retirement, Ford feared that reprisals from the Florida legislative committee might threaten his wife's employment or retirement pension. I could certainly understand Ford's concerns because other teachers, including the Moore's, suffered such reprisals. Nevertheless, new, active leaders arose within the branch as we approached the decade of the 1960's. on December 26, 196 1 about 40 members of the Cocoa branch met to discuss initiating s chool desegregation efforts in Brevard County. Among those present we r e 189

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Reverend W.O. Wells, Jr. who pastored the largest church in Cocoa Beach and Rudy Stone, a local funeral director. Wells and Stone would prove to be two of the most committed members in the branch. The new members decided to petition the Brevard County Board of-Instruction to desegregate its schools. Rather than work with the local branch, the Board of Instruction decided to refer the matter to the state Attorney General just in case Brevard County parents decided to sue the school board. This cowardly move on the part of Board of Instruction proved to me that the county was prepared to resist desegregation, especially since the Attorney General openly advocated a dual school system. Wells and Stone worked together in organizing the community to protest discrimination in housing, employment, and public accommodations. Stone also began encouraging people to exercise their voting privileges. In 1963 Wells organized the Brevard County branch Youth Council. The council immediately began to tackle the all White lunch counters and other segregated facilities in the downtown area. The Youth council's lunch counter sit-ins brought immediate results. The Mayor, who also owned a large restaurant in Cocoa Beach, arranged several meetings with the Youth Council to negotiate. wells also took those opportunities to protest the Mayor's appointments that he granted to Black citizens. One 190

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such appointment was the Mayor's gardener. As a result of these meetings, merchants conceded and promised to desegregate their businesses. Housing discrimination was addressed after Dave Johnson, a Black teacher who worked in Brevard County, filed a complaint against the city, charging that he had been denied the opportunity to purchase a home. Jack E. Wood, the NAACP National Housing Director, was asked to consult the branch, especially since several contractors with NASA had already employed assistance of the NAACP to eliminate housing discrimination in Volusia and Brevard Counties. Johnson's housing complaint was resolved only after the Veteran's Administration and the Federal Housing Authority withheld funds from the builder accused of discrimination. Joining forces with an instructor from Brevard County Junior College, Wells and Stone successfully laid the ground work for a grant for Headstart funds. Wells also assisted in organizing a group, including Father Theodore Gibson of the Miami branch, Reverend Eugene Tillman of Daytona Beach, and Reverend Frank Pinkston of Ocala, which traveled from Miami to Valdosta, G eorgia. Dubbed "Florida's Freedom Riders" by the press, the group tested several bus depots to ensure that they did not discriminate. 1 9 1

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CONCLUSION Working with Mr. Saunders has been a wonderful experience in many ways for me. I learned more about the Civil Rights Movement locally and nationally than I had known before. But, .the most important accomplishment for me was participating in preserving an important part of American history. Participants in the Civil Rights Movement abolished the Jim Crow culture of the South; indeed, their actions should be part the historical record. Now that the memoir is complete, I can reflect on my role in the process. There are some things that aided in the process of writing the memoir as well as some that hindered the process that I would like to explore. In addition, I would like to discuss ethical considerations in the project. First, Mr Saunders and I succeeded in creating an informative and entertaining memoir because we collaborated well with each other. The rapport between us grew out of a year long relationship in which we had worked together on the preliminary editing of the manuscript and other community projects. I know that Mr. Saunders trusts my judgement. I am not sure that he w ould have agreed to my 192

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co-authoring the memoir had he not known and trusted me so well. We respected each other's areas of expertise. Mr. Saunders was the expert on the Civil Rights Movement in Florida. In fact it took me months of research and many conversations with him before I could understand the references he made to people and events in the memoir. Likewise, Mr. Saunders respected my judgement when I asked him to explain any references he may have made in the memoir that would not be understood by the general public or when I deleted material from the memoir that detracted from a clear understanding. Because we had this relationship based on mutual respect, we could communicate easily with each other. We often shared ideas and opinions about the memoir. At the same time, we often disagreed with each other, but we always compromised in the end. There is only one time in which I feel as though our communication faltered. As long as both of us remembered that the goal was to complete a publishable memoir for the general public, we could make better decisions concerning it. In addition, the procedure in which I collaborated with Mr. Saunders was probably the best method. Given that Mr. saunders had already written the manuscript when I met him, the content was already established. Fortunately, I did not have to decide what Mr. Saunders should write about. 193

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However, the manuscript was not well organized, much of the material was repetitive, and Mr. Saunders constantly made references to people, places, and events without any explanation. In addition, as Mr. Saunders' first career was that of a journalist, the memoir read more like a newspaper account of the Civil Rights Movement. For these reasons, my preliminary editorial changes, which consisted primarily of grammatical changes, did not improve the memoir significantly. It was only after I began rewriting the manuscript that it became a clear, well organized, understandable document. For each chapter, I would begin by reading it to make sure that I recognized each name that was mentioned and that I understood generally what the chapter was about. Usually, I either had to resort to another historical source or interview Mr. Saunders before I could fully understand the content of the chapter. Once I felt comfortable with my understanding of the chapter, I was ready to rewrite. Taking care not to disrupt Mr. Saunders' tone, I would rewrite the chapter so that it was organized and understandable by the general public. Whenever possible, I would maintain the same wording; however, in most cases, I was forced to reword the chapter. After completing my revision of the chapter, I would submit it to Mr. Saunders for his review and editions. Whenever I had a question, I would leave notes in the 194

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chapter for him to address. The final version of the chapter was included in the memoir after Mr Saunders' final approval. I took the liberty of combining chapters that contained information that was similar. For example, Chapter 10, "Snapshots: Other Florida Activities" was originally ten chapters, one chapter for each county's activities he describes. I also deleted chapters that were about one singular event and incorporated that event into another appropriate chapter. In all I combined approximately 30 chapters into 10 and reduced the original 300 page document to 138 pages. There were some hindrances in the process that I should mention. Because I was working on a schedule trying to meet my thesis due date, four chapters that Mr. Saunders wrote that were not in the original manuscript were not included in the memoir (at least the one included in my thesis). Mr. Saunders never ceased to remember events and people involved in the movement, and in his effort to recognize everyone and every incident, he constantly added to the original manuscript. At first, this was not a major problem, but as time drew near for my thesis to be complete, I was forced to stop rewriting new chapters; otherwise, I would never have completed my thesis. In fact Mr. Saunders is still considering writing more chapters. I completed my revisions of the chapters in the original manuscript, but I feel bad 195

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that I did not have enough time to revise the other four chapters Mr. Saunders wanted to include. Another problem was that toward the end of the memoir Mr. Saunders ignored my suggested revisions and rewrote two chapters. He rewrote "Introduction: A Continuing Struggle For Freedom" and "Jacksonville : The Model Branch" and asked me to include them as is in the memoir. I am not sure why he chose to ignore my suggestions, but I believe that, as those two chapters were among the last to be r evised for the memoir, Mr. Saunders felt that he wa s losing control over the memoir. Perhaps, he felt that my rewritten chapters did not fully express his ideas. In the case of both chapters, he heeded little of my suggestions. He offered no explanation for his decision, and I was not sure how to approach him about his decision. This is the one time when our communication faltered. So now I look for ways that these situations could have been avoided. First, Mr. Saunders and my collaborative memoir is based on a verbal agreement. There was never a written contract stipulating my role in the project. I admit I considered that option in the beginning, but I was concerned that Mr. Saunders would be put off by my asking him to sign a contract. After all we were friends, and I was afraid of losing the rapport that we h a d built. However, now I feel as though a contract may have h elped. Perhaps, Mr. saunders would not have felt a loss of 196

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control over his work had we signed an agreement stipulating my involvement in the project. A contract could have also solved the problem of Mr. Saunders' never ending new chapters because I could have stipulated in the contract that I would only revise the chapters in the original manuscript. I also admit that I am concerned about how my participation will be credited should the memoir be published. Mr. Saunders and I addressed this only briefly in the past. A contract could have solved some of the problems that arose, but it could have also upset the balance in our relationship. In other words, Mr. Saunders may have felt intimidated by the severe professionalism that is implied by a contract. Nevertheless, if I was beginning the project again I would suggest a contract despite the risk of losing rapport and upsetting the balance in the relationship. I will share m y ethical concerns about the project. Since a collaborative effort such as Mr. Saunders' and mine is unusual in anthropology, I had no other studies to reference before embarking on the project. For the most part, I used my own judgement about what is ethical. I did not include the four additional chapters that Mr. Saunders wrote in m y thesis, because I had not collaborated with him on them. In addition, I included the chapters that he rewrote because he asked me to, e ven though I did not agree with his rewritten versions o f the chapters. I also used 197

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his own words whenever possible and made absolutely sure that I maintained the same tone when I rewrote anything. I did not arbitrarily delete information from any of the chapters. I deleted only if the information was redundant or minor. Finally, I consulted with Mr. Saunders before making any decisions concerning the memoir. For example, when the USF library asked me to enter the memoir on the World Wide Web, I consulted with Mr. Saunders before agreeing to the request, even though I felt sure he would want it done. My co-authored memoir with Mr Saunders demonstrates just one of the ways anthropologists can participate in the preservation of history. My work with Mr Saunders was not unlike anthropologists who assist in the development of exhibits and programs about local history (see Greenbaum 1990, Howele 1986). Once published, the memoir will add to the historical record and will fill a void in anthropological researc h about.the civil Rights Movement. I hope that my thesis will provoke other anthropologists to study the movement and the people involved in the movement. Similarly, I hope that applied anthropologists will advocate for and assist writers, as I have Mr Saunders, to preserve their own history. 198

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REFERENCES Anderson, Rufus 1825 Memoir of Catherine Brown, A Christian Indian of The Cherokee Nation. Boston: Crocker & Brewster. Bates, Daisy L. 1962 The Long Shadow of Little Rock: A Memoir. New York: David McKay. Blumer, Herbert 1949 Collective Behavior. In New Outlines of The Principles of Sociology. A.M. Lee, ed. Pp. 165-220. New York: Barnes & Noble. Button, James W. 1989 Blacks And Social Change: Impact of The Civil Rights Movement in Southern Communities. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Carson, Clayborne,, eds. 1991 The Eyes On The Prize: Civil Rights Reader. London: Penguin Books. Colburn, David R. 1994/1995 St. Augustine 1964: All Eyes On Florida. Forum 18:22-29. 1989 Introduction: The Oldest Segregated City in America: St. Augustine, Florida, 1963-1964. In St Augustine, Florida, 1963-1964. David Garrow, ed. Pp. xiii-xix. Brooklyn, New York: Carlson Publishing. 1989 The Saint Augustine Business Community. In St. Augustine, Florida, 1963-1964. David Garrow, ed. Pp. 327-351. Brooklyn, New York: Carlson Publishing. 1982 The Saint Augustine Business Community. In Southern Businessmen And Desegregation. Elizabeth Jacobway and David R. Colburn, eds. Pp. 211-235. Baton Rouge, LA: Louisiana State Press. Current, Gloster 199

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1988 The Significance Of The N.A.A.C.P. And Its Impact In The In The 1960s. The Black Scholar 19:9-18. Fairclough, Adam 1990 State of The Art: Historians and The Civil Rights Movement. Journal of American studies 24:387-398. Farmer, James 1985 Lay Bare the Heart: An Autobiography of the civil Rights Movement. New York: Arbor House. Franklin, Benjamin 1949 Memoirs. Parallel Text Edition. Berkeley: University of California Press. Franklin, John Hope, and Alfred A. Moss 1988 From Slavery to Freedom: A History of Negro Americans. New York: McGraw-Hill, Inc. Garrow, David, ed. 1989 St. Augustine, Florida, 1963-1964: Mass Protest And Racial Violence. Brooklyn, New York: Carlson Publishing. Garrow, David, ed. 1989 We Shall Overcome: The Civil Rights Movement In The United States In The United States In The 1950's And 1960's, Vols.1-3. Brooklyn, New York: Carlson Publishing Co. Goldberg, Robert A. 1991 Grassroots Resistance: Social Movements In Twentieth Century America. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth Publishing Company. Greenbaum, Susan 1990 Maintaining Ybor City: Race, Ethnicity And Historic Preservation in The Sunbelt. City and Society. 458-76. Hampton, Henry, and Steve Fayer, eds. 1990 Voices Of Freedom: An Oral History Of The Civil Rights Movement From The 1950's-1980's New York: Bantam Books. Hartley, Robert W. 1989 A Long Hot Summer: The St. Augustine Racial Disorders of 1964. In St. Augustine, Florida, 1963-1964. David Garrow, ed. Pp. 3-92. Brooklyn, New York: Carlson Publishing. Hoopes, James 1979 oral History: An Introduction For Students. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. 200

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Howele, Benita 1986 Anthropology And Community Heritage Projects in Tennessee. Practicing Anthropology 7:4-6. Jacobway, Elizabeth, and David R Colburn, eds. 1982 Southern Businessmen And Desegregation. Baton Rouge, LA: Louisiana State University Press. Kennedy, John G. 1977 Struggle For Change In A Nubian Community: An Individual In Society And History. Palo Alto, CA: Mayfield Publishing. Lagness, L.L., and Gelya Frank 1981 Lives: An Anthropological Approach to Biography. Novato, CA: Chandler & Sharp Publishers, Inc. Lawson, Steven F. 1982 From Sit-In To Race Riot. In Southern Bu sinessmen And Desegregation. Elizabeth Jacobway and David R. Colburn, eds. Pp. 211-235. Baton Rouge, LA: Louisiana State Press. Lewis, Oscar 1961 The Children of Sanchez: Autobiography of A Mexican Family. New York: Random House. Lewis, Oscar 1959 Five Families: Mexican Case Studies in The Culture of Poverty. New York: Basic Books. Marriott, Alice 1948 Maria: The Potter of San Ildefonso. Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press. Mintz, Sidney W 1960 Worker in The Cane: A Puerto Rican Life History. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Morris, Alden D. 1984 The origins of The Civil Rights Movement: Black Communities Organizing for Change. New YorK: The Free Press. Oberschall, Anthony 1973 social conflict And Social Movements. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Princeton-Hall, INC. Padgett, Gregory 1994/1995 Tallahassee 1956: A Bus Boycott Takes Root And Blossoms. F orum 18:14-21. 201

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Pfeffer, Paula E. 1990 A. Philip Randolph, Pioneer of the Civil Rights Movement. Baton Rouge, LA: Louisiana State University Press. Piven, Frances F., and Richard A. Cloward 1977 Poor People's Movements. New York: Vintage Books. Radin, Paul 1913 Personal Reminiscences of A Winnebago Indian. Journal of American Folklore 26:293-318. Reddick, Lawrence 1988 Contrast: 1965 Versus 1975. The Black Scholar 19:4-8. Reyer, Rebecca Hourwich 1948 Zulu Woman New york: Columbia University Press. Roy, Manisha 1975 Bengali Women. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Schensul, Stephen L. 1973 Action Research: The Applied Anthropologist in A Community Mental Health Program. In Anthropology Beyond The University, A. Redfield, ed. Southern Anthropological Society Proceedings no.7 Athens, GA: University of Georgia Press. Smith, Charles, and Lewis Killian 1958 The Tallahassee Bus Protest. In We Shall Overcome: The Civil Rights Movement In The United States In The 1950's-1960's, Vol III. David Garrow, ed. Pp. 1017-1039. Brooklyn, New York: Carlson Publishing, Inc. van Willigen, John 1993 Applied Anthropology: An Introduction. Westport, CT: Bergin & Garvey. Watson, Denton 1993 Assessing The Role Of The NAACP In The Civil Rights Movement. The Historian 55:453-468. watson, Denton 1991 Did Scholars Skew Our Views of Civil Rights. Education Digest 57:56-58. Wexler, Sanford 1993 The Civil Rights Movement: An Eyewitness History. New York: Facts On File Inc. 202

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Wilkins, Roy 1982 Standing Fast: The Autobiography of Roy Wilkins. New York: The Viking Press. Youth of The Rural Organizing And Cultural Center 1991 Minds Stayed On Freedom: The Civil Rights Struggle in the Rural South, an Oral HistQry. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. 203


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