A northerner traveling in the South soon learns not to embarrass his hosts by supposing that they really believe their popular social mythologies any more than we do in the North. During a trip of some fifteen hundred miles from the Potomac to well below the Appomattox and back, I was unable to find one intelligent Virginian who attached much weight to the idea that “mongrelization” would inevitably follow desegregation of the public schools. Even intransigent segregationists acknowledged the elementary anthropological facts: such mixture of the races as has occurred thus far was largely a product of the plantation slavery system; and the glacial spread of miscegenation was not perceptibly accelerated in the North by the relatively free mingling of the races in the schools and elsewhere, or greatly inhibited in the South by the adoption, about the turn of the century, of the tightly segregated dual society of Jim Crow.
The fear of “mongrelization” is largely confined to the common white man—referred to in Virginia as “the lower strata of whites”—and is a serious factor in the situation only to the extent that it has been exploited by demagogic politicians and fundamentalist pamphleteers.1
Equally rhetorical and disingenuous is the attribution of a venerable antiquity and solid permanence to Virginia’s “traditional” dual society. In the first place, as I noted in my previous article (“Desegregation: Prince Edward County, Va.,” May), the “tradition” is only about fifty years old. In Virginia, it dates from the adoption of the state’s 1902 constitution, which effectively disfranchised the Negroes and was followed by the passage of a multitude of previously unheard of segregative laws and local ordinances.
In the second place, most Virginians—and this includes the common man, both white and black—are aware that segregation was decaying at the center and fraying at the edges long before the Supreme Court’s decision of May 17, 1954. They apprehend, with reason, that with the possible exception of a few rural enclaves on the South Side, Virginia’s dual society will be gone with the wind in a decade or two.
Interposition, in Virginia as in the Deep South, is a political holding action which can only delay the march of integration. Inevitably, desegregation will continue its creeping progress, fed by and in turn feeding the social, economic, and political forces which contribute to what C. Vann Woodward has called the South’s Second Reconstruction (in “The ‘New Reconstruction’ in the South,” Commentary, June).
Regardless of what happens in the courts, desegregation will filter slowly inland from the Tidewater cities of Portsmouth, Norfolk, and Newport News, where the pattern of race relations among civilians has already been profoundly affected by the integration of white and Negro personnel in a number of Federal military installations.
In all these cities, and in the Virginia suburbs of Washington, more and more Negroes are voting, and Negroes are even beginning to be elected to minor public offices. The increasing prosperity of Negro industrial workers is also a factor; white businessmen become increasingly interested in cultivating the Negro market.
The desegregation of the educational system will move down gradually from the professional schools and colleges into the junior colleges and specialized high schools; and the entire educational system is bound to feel the influence of the Catholic parochial schools, which decided to desegregate even before the Supreme Court decision was announced. This influence will be reinforced by the pressure of Protestant and Jewish religious leaders, the majority of whom have urged compliance with the order of the Court.
All of these actual and existing integrative trends and influences—the increasing enrollment of Negro students in formerly segregated colleges and universities, the example of the Catholic parochial schools, the growing Negro vote, and the coastal cities with their integrated Federal installations-are manifest on the surface for any traveler to see. Conservative Virginians don’t like them, but many of them are bowing reluctantly to what they consider inevitable. Forced to decide whether or not he would oppose a program of gradual desegregation proposed by the president of a formerly all-white theological seminary, a conservative community leader said: “Desegregation is against what I have always believed. But I can tell the way the wind is blowing, and I’m going to vote for it.”
At Thomas Jefferson’s University of Virginia in Charlottesville, the wind was blowing steadily in the direction of integration when I was there. Twenty Negroes, graduates and undergraduates, were enrolled and in residence on the campus; another thirty-eight were enrolled in extension classes throughout the state. The Medical College of Virginia at Richmond has twelve, including both graduates and undergraduates, and about thirty in its affiliated nursing school.
Even ardent segregationists, of whom there are a number on the faculty, agreed that at the University of Virginia, as elsewhere, the enrollment of Negro students in the graduate schools has been accomplished without difficulty and that it would continue at an increasing rate without alienating appreciably the university’s friends and supporters.2
Of the nine publicly supported colleges and universities in the state, including the University of Virginia, that were formerly exclusively for whites, four now have Negro students. The College of William and Mary at Williamsburg and its Norfolk division have one graduate student and six undergraduates. Virginia Polytechnic Institute at Blacksburg has four Negro undergraduates.
Thus far Hampton Institute, formerly all-Negro, is the only privately supported college where integration has been established and is operating successfully. Since the war, Hampton has received over a hundred white exchange students from American and foreign universities. In addition, a white student entered Hampton from a local high school and a white Texan transferred to Hampton from the University of Virginia.
White students at Hampton are of both sexes and mingle freely with Negro students in the lounges and cafeterias, as do the white members of the Hampton faculty. For several years, white and Negro students, sometimes in mixed couples, have been patronizing local movie theaters, with only rare and minor incidents, one of which resulted in a court trial which I attended. A white exchange student from California appeared as the complainant. With a Negro girl, also a student at Hampton, he had attended a movie in the near-by town of Phoebus, sitting in the balcony that is ordinarily reserved for Negroes. After the performance they were waiting at a bus stop when an intoxicated white man approached them, used abusive language, and ended by slugging the white student. A white police officer intervened and arrested the drunk.
The trial was attended by a dozen Hampton students, including Negroes and whites of both sexes. It lasted less than fifteen minutes. The attacker pleaded nolo contendere to the charge of assault and battery and was fined $15 and costs. Somewhat patronizingly, the complainant’s Negro lawyer commended the white defense counsel for advising his client to choose the path of discretion in his plea. While the defendant was paying the court clerk, the complainant left the courtroom quietly with the Negro girl on his arm. The courtroom was less than half filled; judge, lawyers, court attendants, and audience all behaved with exemplary correctness.
All this, I protested to a Negro journalist, was not at all what Northerners have been taught to expect. He explained that Phoebus was Southern only with respect to geography. A substantial proportion of the town’s white residents are retired army and navy people, most of them born and brought up outside the South. In addition, Phoebus, like the near-by cities of Hampton, Newport News, Norfolk, and Portsmouth, has been influenced by the desegregation of the military installations that have given employment to thousands of civilian workers, both white and colored, many of whom are Catholic.
The influence of official Catholic policy, which extends beyond the areas of urban Catholic concentration, is not to be minimized, despite the South’s traditional anti-Catholicism. Some of Virginia’s first families, whose ancestors helped to found the Jamestown settlement, are Catholic. Today, out of the state’s total population of 2,060,-000, some 130,000 are Catholics. Its 74 parochial schools, with an enrollment of 26,000 pupils, are concentrated chiefly in greater Richmond, in the Virginia suburbs of Washington, and in the Tidewater cities, especially Norfolk and Newport News.
By order of Archbishop Peter L. Ireton, dated two weeks before the Supreme Court’s May 17, 1954 decision, the parochial schools throughout Virginia have been proceeding for the past two years with a program of desegregation the results of which have thus far, as usual, refuted the segregationists’ predictions of violence and disaster. In September of 1954, fourteen Negro children entered three parochial high schools; a year later, sixty-six were enrolled, from the kindergarten to the ninth grade, in eighteen schools. Only six parochial schools, in all-Negro districts, with an enrollment of 1,800 children, are still exclusively Negro.
Monsignor J. Louis Flaherty, Superintendent of Schools of the Virginia Diocese, reports that thus far integration has given rise to no problems of discipline, health, or sanitation. There have been minor difficulties: fourteen white children were withdrawn by their mothers—most of them army wives—because of integration; transfers were arranged in some of these cases. As the result of an incident, Negro boys and girls dance only with fellow-Negroes at school functions. Basketball games had to be cancelled when public school teams objected to the presence of Negro players on the parochial school teams, and there was also trouble finding non-segregated eating places when the team was on the road.
The failure rate of the Negroes who have entered white schools averages only slightly higher than that of the whites. According to Mgr. Flaherty, integration will proceed gradually but systematically, starting with the lower grades, until the entire parochial school system is integrated.
Alone among the faiths, the Catholic Church was in a position to manifest by deeds, in its own school system, the conviction it shares with the Protestant churches that segregation is un-Christian. Ever since the Supreme Court’s 1954 decision, however, the majority of Virginia’s Protestant clergymen, along with practically all the rabbis, have been bucking the political tide that swept the majority of their congregations into the segregationist camp. Despite the scolding of the segregationist press, and sometimes in defiance of warnings from their own congregations, preachers, priests, and rabbis in a score of Virginia cities insisted on speaking out for integration. At the higher levels of church authority, Presbyterians, Baptists, Methodists, and Episcopalians united in urging compliance with the Supreme Court’s order.
On the eve of the adoption, by a two to one vote, of the state constitutional amendment authorizing the use of tax funds for the support of private schools, State Senator Dalton said: “The politicians have lined up almost solidly for the amendment and the preachers almost solidly against it. If I am to choose between those lined up with the preachers or with the politicians, I’ll take my stand with the preachers.” More and more politicians, it may be safely predicted, will be found taking their stand with the preachers when, as, and where Negroes begin to vote in sufficient numbers. Already, the county and city breakdown of the vote for and against the constitutional amendment suggests that some day, with little help from the whites,3 the Negroes will be able to vote an end to Virginia’s dual society.
Resistance to the Supreme Court’s order, as it happened, centered in the twenty agricultural counties of Virginia’s South Side, where Negroes equal or exceed whites in numbers, but rarely vote. In fact, the referendum vote also provided a rough measure of the degree to which Negro voters are permitted to exercise their suffrage.
The city of Hampton has 22 per cent of Negroes in its school population; Charlottesville, seat of the University of Virginia, has about the same—23 per cent. In both cities the vote on the constitutional amendment was relatively close: 5,135 to 3,427 in Hampton, and 2,820 to 1,477 in Charlottesville, as against 2,835 to 350 in half-Negro Prince Edward County, with its two all-white colleges, Longwood and Hampden-Sydney. Without attaching too much significance to these figures, it would at least seem that where racial integration has been in operation at the college level, it has not had the effect of either nourishing segregationist sentiment or intensifying racial tension. What is even more apparent, of course, is that Negroes vote in Charlottesville and especially in Hampton, whereas they obviously don’t in Prince Edward County and in other South Side counties where the vote for the amendment was equally overwhelming.
Only about 15 per cent of the people of Virginia live in counties where the Negro population is as high as 40 per cent of the total; and of the state’s population as a whole, Negroes form only 24.8 per cent. That is only 3 per cent more than in Maryland, where integration is proceeding rather smoothly. Both Richmond, with 43 per cent of Negroes in the school population, and Norfolk, with 39 per cent, have fewer Negroes than Baltimore, with 49.per cent. In three southwestern Virginia counties and one Washington suburb (Falls Church) there are so few Negroes that they are obliged to attend private schools or are transported to jointly operated schools in neighboring areas, their tuition being paid by the governing bodies of their home localities.
In all these areas integration could have been started immediately, or “with deliberate speed,” in 1954 or 1955, and some of Virginia’s educators said so publicly. In fact, before the state legislature’s Gray Commission rendered its report, detailed plans had been prepared for the admission of Negroes to white schools in Richmond, Norfolk, Waynesboro, Arlington, and elsewhere.
If integration is practicable in Norfolk, with 39 per cent of Negroes in its school population, why isn’t it practicable in Albemarle County, in central Virginia, with only 21 per cent? “It just isn’t,” replied Dr. E. J. Oglesby, professor of mathematics at the University of Virginia, who had served on the Albemarle County school board, “not in this part of the world, in the foreseeable future.” This was also the conclusion of Dr. Paul Cale, the Albemarle County school superintendent.
The Negroes of Albemarle County, pointed out Dr. Cale, are scattered all over the county, whereas in cities like Norfolk and Baltimore they are concentrated in colored residential districts. Even a token attempt at integration would generate dangerous conflicts in connection with bus transportation. There would also be insuperable administrative difficulties. White parents would not permit their children to receive instruction from inferior Negro teachers—and they were inferior, Dr. Cale said. Citing instances of misconduct by Negro school principals, he declared that an M.A. from Columbia didn’t necessarily make a Negro teacher either professionally competent or trustworthy. (But the same judgment might be applied to white teachers; certainly Negro principals and teachers have no monopoly on either personal misbehavior or professional incompetence.) If integration were to be enforced, the white parents—said Dr. Cale—would withdraw their children and stop paying school taxes; then, unless Federal money was funneled in, it would be necessary to close the schools. In 1950, four years before the Supreme Court decision, Albemarle County had built a comprehensive high school for Negroes which had cost more per pupil than the white high school, and the county’s future building program embodied genuine equality for white and colored; now, however, the board had paid off its architects and suspended all construction.
“What did the Negroes expect to happen next?” asked Dr. Cale. “What did they want?” He had been trying to find out. But where formerly his Negro principals had been willing to talk frankly with him, now they refused to confer except publicly, in the presence of their entire staffs.
A similar blackout of human and professional relations prevails in most of the South Side counties. While integration waits to be born, the “separate but equal” education of the Negroes marks time.
Greensville County, deep in Virginia’s South Side, has 62 per cent of Negroes and voted 2,189 to 385 for the amendment. Emporia, the drab little county seat, is segregated in every conceivable manner, including the WPA mural in the post office in which all the Negroes—and none of the whites—wear overalls; also in the columns of the Emporia Independent Messenger, owned and edited by Cary P. Flythe. Mr. Flythe fired his Negro reporter—and lost some of his Negro circulation—after the reporter had objected to one of the editor’s more violently segregationist columns. Mr. Flythe is also chairman of the school board which, following the Supreme Court decision, announced its “unalterable opposition to desegregation” and ordered Negro teachers not to discuss or permit discussion of the subject in their classes.
Since Emporia’s NAACP chapter has an active membership of over 200 and several times that many sympathizers, it is obvious that Greensville County’s 385 votes against the amendment did not represent the actual sentiment of the community. Nor does the poll tax, which the Byrd machine stubbornly refuses to repeal, account for more than a part of the discrepancy. In Virginia’s one-party system there are many ways short of actual coercion to discourage Negroes from voting. Before he can register, a potential voter must answer from memory about a dozen fairly complicated questions, and the white primary official is rarely challenged when he tells a Negro that he has failed this test.
It is an event when a Negro serves on a grand or petit jury. This happened in 1950, for the first time in thirty years in Greensville County. Yet there was a time, within the memory of people now living, when Negroes served regularly on Greensville County juries, both grand and petit, and when Negroes voted as a matter of course. In that earlier period there occurred the celebrated lynching of Cotton and Brady, which well illustrates the relative emancipation of South Side Negroes before the turn of the century and the clamping down of Jim Crow laws.
Cotton was a Negro, Brady a white man. Both were notorious bandits, who were captured and imprisoned by a posse after a particularly sanguinary foray. A white mob broke into the jail and lynched Cotton, the Negro, after which the Negro leaders were cordially invited to lynch Brady, the white man. Their reply was: “Not us. You’ve lynched Cotton. Now you go ahead and lynch Brady.” Which they proceeded to do.
In Greensville and other South Side counties, the Negro leaders date the decline of their political and social status from the adoption of the 1902 Virginia constitution under the guiding genius of the late Senator Carter Glass. The effect of the new constitution was to centralize authority at the state level, to narrow the electoral base, to reduce the number of county and local elective offices, and to solidify the power of an upper- and middle-class white minority.
One of the counties of Virginia’s Eastern Shore, up which I drove from the South Side on my way North, had a Negro school population of 58 per cent; it had voted ten to one for the constitutional amendment. The school superintendent assured me that the Negro pupils were running from three to five years behind the whites in grade. As for the Negro teachers, he had perhaps four who were up to the average of the white teachers. Their advanced degrees meant nothing, he said, and this would continue to be the case so long as a Northern all-Negro teachers college like Wilberforce, in Ohio, despite its loss of accreditation three years ago, could continue to pour mass-produced Negro A.B.’s and M.A.’s into the South. At an educational conference, he had offered to swap jobs with a Yankee colleague who had wanted to know why his county didn’t integrate, betting that in two years the Northerner would be as intransigent a segregationist as he was. He would prefer not to be quoted directly, concluded this superintendent, but “if you and your friends up North want another war you know where you can have one.”
The next county I came to on the Eastern Shore had only 38 per cent of Negroes in the school population and had voted only two to one for the amendment. Its school superintendent told a somewhat different story. He considered his Negro staff to be excellent. Over half of them were trained at Hampton Institute; a few came from Princess Anne, the Maryland state college for Negroes just across the county line. Yes, the Negro pupils were retarded, but there were obvious reasons for that. The county, like most of Virginia’s Eastern Shore, is one long, black, and highly mechanized truck garden. To grow and process the crops some 20,000 migrant laborers, mostly Negroes, are needed every year to supplement the permanent labor force, also largely Negro. At the height of the picking season the children of all ages come late to school and leave early, with the tacit approval of the school boards. Under such circumstances it was not surprising that the Negro children are below par educationally and with respect to health; this was particularly true of the migrants. Last year it cost the county $20,000 to pay for the hospitalization of migratory laborers.
School integration, he thought, would be one of the ultimate fruits of Negro progress. But, as he had told his assembled staff at a meeting called to discuss the Supreme Court’s decree, he did not think that that fruit was yet ripe for harvesting. Three quarters of the people in the county took this view, he believed. If it were necessary to begin integration immediately, however, he thought it had best start with the high school age, by which time the Negro students had acquired social habits that made them less objectionable to the white children and their parents.
Everywhere in Virginia, but especially on the South Side, ardent segregationists assure you that except for “hard-core” NAACP activists-“led by Northern Communistic agitators”4—the Negroes themselves don’t want integration. Doubtless, there are some Negroes who for reasons of personal and group survival continue even now to tell the local white folks what the latter want to hear. But they weren’t talking that way to a Northern journalist. Sometimes they refused to talk at all, but more often they jeered at the idea that there existed any authentic Negro segregationist sentiment in Virginia, or even any substantial number of Negroes who felt that the NAACP was pushing too hard.
The fact is, of course, that Virginia’s ruling white oligarchy chose to defy the Supreme Court order without in any way consulting the Negroes and their recognized state and local leaders.
Early in 1953, over a year before the Supreme Court desegregation order, President Alonzo G. Moron of Hampton Institute vainly urged Governor John F. Battle to appoint a committee of leading white and Negro citizens of the state to advise himself and the legislature as to the course of action the state should take in preparation for either a favorable or an unfavorable decision on the segregation cases then pending before the court5 A year later, in February 1954, President Morón, accompanied by a mixed group of white and Negro educators and editors, called on Governor Battle’s successor, Governor Thomas E. Stanley, and made a similar suggestion. But despite promises that either he or the legislature would take action along this line, Governor Stanley did nothing until August 28, 1954, when he by-passed both white and Negro educational leaders by appointing an all-white commission of the state legislature, under the chairmanship of Garland Gray, who had declared two months before his election from the South Side county of Sussex that the Supreme Court decision was “political and monstrous.”
The Gray Commission took over a year to prepare its report. Finally, in November of last year, it made recommendations; they were designed, not to prohibit integration, but to enable the resisting South Side counties to evade the Supreme Court order, while permitting the urban, northern, and northwestern counties to comply. The two principal recommendations, if adopted, would have authorized (1) the assignment of pupils to schools on the basis of “health and welfare” rather than race; and (2) the payment of tuition grants to private schools. The second recommendation required an amendment of the state constitution, which was approved in a popular referendum on January 9 and adopted March 5 by the constitutional convention.
Meanwhile, however, the more intransigent segregationists had been provided with a rallying cry in the concept of “interposition,” first developed by William Old, a Chesterfield County lawyer whose ideological services have recently been rewarded by his appointment as circuit court judge. The pamphlet in which Judge Old projected the first serious attempt to apply this doctrine (which had been adumbrated in the speeches of Madison, Jefferson, and Calhoun) was issued in a first edition of one thousand copies. Probably it would have caused little stir had not a copy fallen into the hands of James Jackson Kilpatrick, editor of the Richmond News-Leader, who had already established himself as perhaps the ablest spokesman for the segregationist cause. In a series of widely reprinted editorials, Mr. Kilpatrick applied his rhetorical amplifier to Mr. Old’s modest lucubrations. The effects were greater, it would seem, than the editor himself had anticipated.
On June 1, 1955, the News-Leader had applauded Prince Edward County’s instant response to the Supreme Court’s implementing order, which was to refuse to adopt a school budget for 1955-56 and, instead, to set about raising a popular subscription for the operation of private schools—for whites only Mr. Kilpatrick’s editorial concluded: “When the Court proposes that its social revolution be imposed upon the South ‘as soon as practicable,’ there are those of us who would respond that ‘as soon as practicable’ means ‘never at all’.”
In the same editorial, however, Mr. Kilpatrick had said that the Gray Commission should make it possible for any locality that wishes to integrate its schools to do so. “There may be quite a few counties in Southwest and Valley Virginia, where Negro population is small, that will wish to do so.”
As expected, the Gray Commission recommended local option in the matter of desegregation. But by the time the legislature met to consider implementing these proposals, the cloud of “interposition,” at first no bigger than Judge Old’s hand, had swollen until it overshadowed the political landscape. Assuming that the Gray Commission’s recommendations were to be taken seriously, the school board of Arlington County, across the Potomac from Washington, D. C, where Negroes constitute 6 per cent of the county’s school enrollment, had adopted a plan to integrate county schools and to hold a $9,400,000 bond referendum on school construction. But by this time the majority of the segregationists had adopted the “no, never, nowhere” position of the Defenders; Chairman Gray himself was one of the first to renege on his own Commission’s recommendations. Declaring that he viewed Arlington’s action with “much concern,” Senator Gray added his “hope that no steps will be taken anywhere in Virginia to implement integration until the state’s policy is finally determined by the governor and the duly elected representatives of the people of this commonwealth.”
Arlington was not left long in doubt concerning the mood of the Governor and the legislature. In February the legislature gave overwhelming approval to an interposition resolution, following which it passed a bill stripping Arlington of its power to elect a school board and putting it on a par with other Virginia communities where school boards are appointed by the elected town boards. During the same month Arlington’s plans for integration received another setback when, in a close referendum, the voters turned down the proposed $9,400,000 bond issue for school construction.
The inflamed segregationist zeal of the legislature’s majority was further manifested in a resolution introduced in the House, but permitted to the in the Senate, which would have declared that “it is the sense of the legislature that for the school year beginning September 1956 the public schools throughout Virginia shall continue to operate on a segregated basis. . . .”
Passage of this resolution, said the Richmond Times-Dispatch, would have been a “breach of faith.” Although such considerations may have played some part in its defeat, the determining factor was probably the legislature’s realization that, if passed, the resolution could have been used to prove to the courts that Virginia was not moving with the “deliberate speed” required for compliance with the Supreme Court decision. Actually, all the legislature had to do, to prevent any effective action anywhere toward desegregating the public schools, was to do nothing, and this, under the guidance of Governor Stanley, it managed to accomplish.
Thus, instead of joining the Border states, as so many optimistic Northerners, including this writer, were rash enough to predict, Virginia entered the election year of 1956 facing South and behaving as if it were possible to march backward in time, into the never-again land of its slowly disintegrating dual society. Prisoners of this anachronistic political hegira are all of the state’s Negroes and a substantial minority, if not majority, of its whites, who live in communities where Jim Crow is beginning to look inconvenient and expensive as well as unwholesome, so that its preservation does not seem desirable even if it were possible.
They will not remain prisoners long. Practically all of the decisive economic and social forces in Virginia—the industries of its Tide-water cities, the pull of its Northern markets, the influence of its desegregated military installations—are facing North. Virginia has gained at most a year of grace before desegregation begins. But it has saved its Southern face, which was perhaps what its politicians needed most to do, before getting down to the unfinished business of racial emancipation, to which it is committed no less than the rest of the nation.
1 The fear of racial intermixture is real to the point of pathology among the poor white farmers and lower-middle-class villagers in the South Side counties of Virginia where the Negroes constitute the majority of the population.
2 In an article in the Saturday Evening Post of February 19, 1956 entitled optimistically “Southerners Will Like Integration” (most of them won’t in the foreseeable future), Mrs. Sarah Patton Boyle, wife of a University of Virginia professor, described the friendly reception accorded Negro students by the white student body. The article elicited a flood of letters; somewhat to Mrs. Boyle’s surprise, over half of her Virginia correspondents were congratulatory, as were a third of those who wrote from the Deep South. Only about a fourth of the letters were from Negroes, all of whom applauded the article. A small percentage of the letters elaborated, more or less obscenely, the theme of “mongrelization” that runs through the pamphlet literature now being distributed by a dozen anti-Negro and anti-Semitic propaganda organizations. One writer assured Mrs. Boyle that “the Jews are behind all this agitation for breaking down segregation. Like jackals, they sneak around behind the scenes and get fools or knaves to do their dirty work. Mongrelization-that is what the Jews want-for Gentiles. Get the Gentiles mixed up with the lackadaisical Negro strain.”
3 The Virginia Council on Human Relations is the only integrated inter-denominational organization in Virginia working in behalf of school desegregation.
4 The pamphlet literature distributed by the Defenders of State Sovereignty and Individual Rights and other segregationist organizations features the charge that the NAACP and other Negro and bi-racial organizations advocating desegregation of the schools are Communist-inspired and directed. In actual fact, the NAACP’s leaders are actively and uncompromisingly anti-Communist.
5 Last February, Professors B. J. Chandler and Douglas S. Ward of the University of Virginia’s School of Education presented “A Plan for the Preservation of the Virginia Public School System”; it called for the establishment by the General Assembly of a bi-racial state advisory council instructed to work out, with the help of bi-racial groups in the county and local school divisions, a program of desegregation designed both to satisfy the community and meet the “deliberate speed” requirements of the district courts.