Madam Speaker, I rise today to introduce two stories written in the Washington Post on September 25, 2007 entitled, ``A Little Rock Reminder'' and ``The Legacy of Little Rock'', in recognition of the 50th anniversary of the integration of…
Madam Speaker, I rise today to introduce two stories written in the Washington Post on September 25, 2007 entitled, ``A Little Rock Reminder'' and ``The Legacy of Little Rock'', in recognition of the 50th anniversary of the integration of the school system of Little Rock, AR, by a brave group of Black children who came to be known as ``The Little Rock Nine''.
Integration has been a long and difficult process here in the United States. Only 50 years have passed since President Dwight Eisenhower decided to send soldiers to protect and defend the newly acquired rights of nine Black students to go to a previously all White school. Those brave Black students who endured the difficulties of starting the process of desegregation in schools in 1957 should be remembered and appreciated today, on the anniversary, and everyday.
It has been proven that integration is a key factor in the success of our society. A school where all races and nationalities work together is giving their students more than classes; they are teaching them the correct way to live, in harmony with the world. In addition it has been proven that an integrated learning environment leads to greater academic success.
Our society today still has a long way to go but it is a much healthier one than 50 years ago. These children were brave enough to understand what their parents and other leaders of their community knew--that they deserve the same rights as the next one; they too are citizens of the United States and all it represents. Their efforts need to be commended.
[From the Washington Post, Sept. 25, 2007]
A Little Rock Reminder: Nine Pioneers Showed Why School Integration
Matters
(By Juan Williams)
Fifty years ago this week, President Dwight Eisenhower
risked igniting the second U.S. civil war by sending 1,000
American soldiers into a Southern city. The troops, with
bayonets at the end of their rifles, provided protection for
nine black students trying to get into Little Rock's Central
High School. Until the soldiers arrived, the black teenagers
had been kept out by mobs and the Arkansas National Guard, in
defiance of the Supreme Court's 1954 ruling ending school
segregation.
The black children involved became the leading edge of a
social experiment. Their lives offer answers to the question
of what happens to black children who attend integrated
schools, a question underscored by the recent Supreme Court
ruling that voluntary school integration plans in Louisville
and Seattle are unconstitutional.
The June decision said a focus on mixing students based on
their skin color violates every student's right to be judged
as an individual without regard to race. The ruling
confirmed a political reality: America long ago lost its
appetite for doing whatever it takes--busing, magnet schools,
court orders--to integrate schools. The level of segregation
in U.S. public schools has been growing since 1988, reversing
the trend toward integration triggered by Brown v. Board of
Education.
The movement away from school integration is glaring. The
Civil Rights Project found in 2003 that the nation's 27
biggest school districts were ``overwhelmingly'' segregated
with black and Latino students. Nationwide today, almost half
of black and Latino children are in schools where less than
10 percent of the students are white. Those essentially
segregated schools have a large percentage of low-income
families and, according to researchers, ``difficulty
retaining highly qualified teachers.'' Meanwhile, the average
white student attends a school that is 80 percent white and
far more affluent than the schools for minority students.
This trend toward isolation of poor and minority students
has consequences--half of black and Latino students now drop
out of high school.
Integrated schools benefit students, especially minorities.
Research on the long-term outcomes of black and Latino
students attending integrated schools indicates that those
students ``complete more years of education, earn higher
degrees and major in more varied occupations than graduates
of all-black schools.''
That conclusion is reflected in the lives of the Little
Rock Nine, who represent the black middle class that grew
rapidly as better schools became open to black people during
the 1960s and '70s.
Ernest Green, 65, who became the first black student to
graduate from Central High, is the most prominent of the
nine. He earned a master's degree in sociology and worked in
the Carter and Clinton administrations. He is director of
public finance in Washington for Lehman Brothers.
Melba Pattillo Beals, 65, chairs the African American
history department at Dominican University in River Forest,
IL, and wrote an award-winning book about her experiences at
Central High; Elizabeth Eckford, 65, is a probation officer
in Arkansas; Gloria Ray Karlmark, 64, moved to Sweden to work
for IBM and later founded and edited the magazine Computers
in Industry; Carlotta Walls LaNier, 64, started a real estate
company in Colorado; Terrence Roberts, 65, is a psychologist
in California; Jefferson Thomas, 64, fought in Vietnam and
worked in government in Ohio for nearly 30 years; Minniejean
Brown Trickey, 66, worked in the Clinton administration and
is a visiting writer at Arkansas State University; and Thelma
Mothershed Wair, 66, became a teacher.
Part of their success comes from their ability to mix
easily with black and white people and to comfortably join
the social and professional networks that segregation kept
from black people. In fact, most of the nine worked in mostly
white organizations. And four of the nine married white
people (three black women married white men, and one black
man married a white woman).
In her book ``Turn Away Thy Son,'' Arkansas native
Elizabeth Jacoway notes that the nine never take a group
picture with white spouses or mixed-race children. Jacoway
believes they don't want to take away from black pride in
their achievement or reignite segregationist fears about
interracial sex.
Terrence Roberts, who went on to become a psychology
professor, thinks ``fear of black people in the family'' is
still a driving force pulling Americans away from integrated
schools. Ernest Green, whose first wife was white, calls it
the ``zipper issue. . . sex and race are highly
combustible.''
The interracial daughter of Minniejean Brown Trickey,
Spirit Trickey, works as a Park Service tour guide at a
memorial to the events at Central High. She says visitors
regularly ask why so many of the nine broke the taboo against
interracial marriage.
``My answer is that the Little Rock Nine followed the
principles of nonviolence,'' she said. ``They married who
they fell in love with. But it is telling that so many people
ask about it. It tells me where we are today.''
[From the Washington Post, Sept. 25, 2007]
The Legacy of Little Rock: Fifty Years Ago, He and 8 Others Became the
Faces of Integration. Now He Is a Sign of Its Success.
(By Avis Thomas-Lester)
Ernest G. Green Jr. sees much of the world now from a top
floor comer office on K Street, just blocks from the White
House and a very long way from where he started.
His BlackBerry holds the phone numbers of powerful men:
former president Bill Clinton; Robert L. Johnson, founder of
Black Entertainment Television and co-owner of the Charlotte
Bobcats; former ambassador Andrew Young; and three candidates
for president of the United States.
He spends his days negotiating multimillion-dollar deals as
managing director of public finance for Wall Street stalwart
Lehman Brothers with clients including the City of New York
and the State of Connecticut. He has a big house in Northwest
Washington, ``a beautiful wife, three wonderful kids'' and a
lot of gratitude for the circumstances that catapulted him
from segregated Little Rock into U.S. history as one of nine
students to integrate Central High School 50 years ago today.
``It has been a tremendous boost for me,'' said Green, who
turned 66 on Saturday. ``It provided me with opportunities I
never would have otherwise had. I had a tremendous window
into the last half of 20th century.''
Green returned to his home town this weekend for events
commemorating the 50th anniversary of the desegregation of
Central High. Five decades ago, Green and eight other
students were escorted into the school by the U.S. Army's
101st Airborne Division under orders from President Dwight
Eisenhower after Gov. Orval Faubus used the state's National
Guard to block the integration effort.
In the year that followed, Green and the others, who came
to be known as the Little Rock Nine, were tripped on the
stairs, attacked in the halls and pushed out of lunchroom
lines. Teachers and administrators largely ignored them. The
few white students who befriended them were subjected to ill
treatment as well.
``Clearly, none of us anticipated that it would be as
difficult as it was,'' said Green, the first of the nine to
graduate. ``But once we got there, all nine of us knew how
important it was to stay. Backing down was not an option.''
His story is a testament to the potential of forced
integration, a remedy widely debated now as many urban school
districts become resegregated. Green said people miss out
when they don't mingle with those who are different from
themselves. ``We need to make sure children understand that
they are more similar than different.''
Green never set out to become an icon of the civil rights
movement, with a movie made of his life and a congressional
medal to his name. What he did, he said, was simply step out
of his comfort zone.
``Too many blacks today,'' he said, ``opt for comfort over
taking a chance that might change their lives. We have to
work hard to break through our comforts.''
Many wouldn't consider a childhood in the segregated South
a comfortable place, but Green has fond memories of growing
up at the comer of 21st and Pulaski. His father, Ernest Sr.,
who died when Green was 13, was a janitor at the post office;
his mother, Lothaire, taught in Little Rock schools for 43
years.
He, his sister, Treopia, and his brother, Scott, learned
about taking a stand from their mother. In the 1940s, she
supported the efforts of black teacher Susie Morris, who,
with NAACP Legal Defense Fund attorney Thurgood Marshall,
sued the Little Rock schools, demanding equal pay. His mother
opened their home to Marshall when he was in town working on
the case.
Green grew up riding past the impressive edifice of Central
High School, considered the best school in town. The name was
stamped into the secondhand books that taught him U.S.
history, algebra and chemistry. As a member of the marching
band--he played tenor saxophone--at segregated Horace Mann
High School, he had marched on Central's field.
``We didn't have a stadium, so the black schools played on
the field one night and the white schools another,'' he
recalled.
Green was 13 when the U.S. Supreme Court, acting on
arguments by Marshall, outlawed school segregation in the
Brown v. Board of Education case. Even so, many officials in
Southern states vehemently refused to carry out the order.
No such sentiment was evident in Little Rock in 1957, which
had a progressive reputation, Green said. Blacks owned
businesses. There was a thriving black middle class. The
public libraries and city buses were integrated, as was the
University of Arkansas campus. Several Arkansas school
districts had voluntarily integrated.
It was against this backdrop that the Little Rock school
board decided to integrate.
``I heard about it on the radio that they were looking for
students interested in going to Central,'' said Minnijean
Brown Trickey, another of the Little Rock Nine. ``It started
off that there were 23 of us, but by the time we got to
school that first day, there were only nine.''
It was Green's idea to attend Central High, and his mother,
like the other parents, supported the decision. ``They had
some idea of what it would do to change the opportunities for
all the black folks in Little Rock if we were able to
integrate the school,'' he said.
Green said they were all thunderstruck by the level of
resistance.
``We didn't think there would be a confrontation,'' he
said. ``Orval Faubus was regarded as a progressive white
Southerner. My mother had voted for him as governor. He
didn't have an image of being a firebrand segregationist or
racist.''
On Sept. 4, the students were denied entry by guardsmen and
racists yelling epithets. After the NAACP took the case to
court, they were allowed in on Sept. 23 but had to leave
early because of fears of violence. Two days later, with an
escort from the 101st Airborne, they were admitted.
For four weeks, things were relatively quiet. Soldiers
escorted the nine black students to class. Many avid
segregationists kept their children at home.
``Once they saw we weren't leaving, they started to trickle
back in,'' Green said. Soon, the harassment started.
As the only senior, Green was a prominent target.
``It seemed to me that one of the things that would drive
them crazy was if I were to be successful,'' he recalled.
``So I was determined to stick it out that whole year.''
Each morning, the black students would gather at one of
their homes or at the home
of Daisy Bates, the legendary Arkansas NAACP president, and
her husband, L.C. Bates, founder of the Arkansas State Press,
the state's leading black newspaper.
The hostility didn't subside until the day before Green's
graduation.
``There were a number of white kids who got up the nerve to
come over and congratulate me for getting through the year,''
he said.
The principal urged Green to take his diploma and go home
without attending the commencement ceremony.
``Local authorities were afraid there would be some attempt
to do physical harm to me, but I was convinced that I had
angels looking over me,'' Green said. ``I figured I had gone
through [too much] not to enjoy the benefits of the
service.''
As it turned out, Martin Luther King Jr., who had gained
prominence with the Montgomery bus boycott 2 years earlier,
was in Arkansas.
``He came up the evening of the ceremony to sit with my
mother, aunt and family,'' Green said. ``I didn't know he was
in the audience until after the ceremony was over.''
The next five decades of Green's life have, in many ways,
been defined by that year at Central High.
He devoted himself to civil rights causes. At Michigan
State University, which he attended on a full scholarship, he
became president of the school's NAACP chapter and often
protested the policies of the university's president, John
Hannah. Thirty years later, he learned that Hannah had
personally arranged for his scholarship.
After earning bachelor's and master's degrees, Green moved
to New York and worked with civil rights leaders A. Philip
Randolph and Bayard Rustin to recruit minorities into the
building trades. In 1977, he was tapped by President Jimmy
Carter as assistant secretary of labor for employment and
training. He later formed a minority consulting company with
Alexis Herman, who would be named Clinton's labor secretary.
In 1987, capitalizing on the relationships he made in
public service, he took a position with Lehman Brothers as an
investment banker; his projects included underwriting
municipal debt with governmental agencies and nonprofit
organizations. Again, he drew on his experience at Central
High.
``It made me a tougher negotiator, able to control my
emotions and able to handle the ups and down of business and
life,'' he said.
The years have brought proud moments: In 1999, Clinton
awarded Green and the rest of the Little Rock Nine the
Congressional Gold Medal. There have also been humbling
times: In 2002, Green was sentenced to 90 days of home
detention and given a $10,000 fine for failing to declare and
pay taxes on income he received as part of a planned business
venture.
Today, he works passionately to help young people. He noted
that last week, 50 years after he entered Central High, black
activists were gathered in Jena, La., to protest the
treatment of six black youths arrested after a racially
tinged brawl.
``A lot of people don't realize,'' he said, ``that there is
still racial injustice in this country.''