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After the Crisis Year of Little Rock Central High in 1957
the Little Rock School Board petitioned the courts in the Spring of 1958
for a delay in further desegregating Little Rock High Schools. In this
case of Cooper v. Aaron, Judge Harry Lemley granted the requested delay on
June 20, of 1958. The National Association for the Advancement of Colored
People immediately petitioned the US Supreme Court to
overturn this delay. By August 18, 1959 the Eighth Circuit Court of
Appeals agreed with the NAACP. The majority opinion stated:
"We say the time has not yet come in these United States
when an order of a federal court must be whittled away, altered down or
shamefully withdrawn in the face of violent and unlawful act of individual
citizens in opposition thereto."
September 12, 1958 the U S Supreme Court ordered the
immediate integration of Little Rock Central High School. The same day
Governor Orval Faubus invoked the power given him by the Arkansas General Assembly and
signed all the bills recently passed during the Extraordinary Session held
by the state legislature.
"I have signed into laws the acts passed by the recent
special session of the legislature. Acting under the powers and
responsibilities imposed upon me by these laws, I have ordered closed the
senior high
schools in Little Rock, in order to avoid the impending
violence and disorder which would occur and to preserve the peace of the
community." (Arkansas Gazette, Sept 13, 1958 p1A)
Governor Faubus announced the closure of all
high school in Little Rock on Friday, September 12, 1958. By the following
Monday, the Little Rock School Board and Superintendent Virgil Blossom
announced that all high school bands, football games and extracurricular
activities were officially canceled. By Tuesday, September 16, Governor Faubus accused the Board of trying to arouse public sentiment against him
in canceling the popular football programs. Board President Wayne Upton
telegraphed the Governor the following message on that same day.
"Our sole motive in yesterday's action stopping
extracurricular activities was strict compliance with your proclamation
closing the high schools, which was presumed to close all school
activities.
Your statement to the press today indicated that this was
not your intention. Will you please advise us immediately as to which high
school activities you intended that your proclamation cover?" (Arkansas
Gazette September 17, 1958 1A)
When Governor Faubus closed all high schools in Little
Rock, the Little Rock School District used 15 white teachers to teach for a time on the three
local television stations early in the mornings. This was considered a
stopgap measure to keep students active until Little Rock voters either
endorsed school closure or rejected it. KATV, the ABC Affiliate, broadcast
classes for sophomores, KTHV, the CBS Affiliate, showed course for juniors
and KARK-TV, the NBC Affiliate broadcast courses for seniors.
Superintendent Blossom pointed out:
"At Central High we offer 87 different subjects. On
television we're attempting only the four basic subjects-English, history,
science, and mathematics." (U. S. News and World Report Vol.45 October 1958
p. 73-75.)

The Arkansas General Assembly passed several laws targeting teachers or anyone who was a member of the NAACP.
Howard Bell, a
teacher at Central High, commented about Act 10 which required him to list
all organizations to which he belonged or to which he paid dues:
"I thought that was too much prying into a person's
background. That invaded our privacy. And it was a background for
neo-Nazism which had just almost devastated the world in WWII. Every time
I see its head rising on the horizon, I have something to say about
privacy and individual freedom to express oneself or to join
organizations."

Lost Year Teachers Excerpts:
(Teachers under contract who went to work everyday but
had no high school students to teach)
Maud Woods, a teacher at Horace Mann. Act 115
targeted NAACP members from working for the state, which included being a
public school teacher.
"The joke was on them because they said. 'Were you a
member of the NAACP?" and you said "no", but they couldn't keep you from
making a contribution. So we doubled it. This is what they asked us to do.
Instead of going in stores and charging and buying, you stopped buying and
that's how you made your contribution. Every time you wanted to go buy
something, you made a donation."
Gene Hall,
head football coach at Central High, recalled that though all other teachers had no interaction with high school students,
the football coaches were an exception. Once their peculiar season ended,
however, their students scattered to find alternative schooling.
"You know we always take a team picture at the end of the
year. We didn't have, I mean, the day football was over that year, they
were gone and we didn't have them to take that team photo. But we had our
school photographer, Bill Lincoln..he had taken individual pictures of all
the boys and we made a composite team picture, just their heads, which I
still have."
Leon Adams, a black music teacher at Horace Mann,
reminds us that Horace Mann High School was a fully accredited black high
school, just as its predecessor Dunbar High in Little Rock had been. Adams
asked:
"Think about this. The schools in Little Rock, the black
schools in Little Rock, were the premier schools in the state. Where else
could our students go? We had student who had paid tuition to come in from
the county to attend Horace Mann, and now we were asking where can our
students go for a quality education?"
Nancy Popperfuss, an English teacher at Hall High
explained that "there were still some segregationists in the faculties at
that time. She said that discussing some subjects among the greater white
community was a sensitive task.
"There were some issues that you just didn't discuss
because they were just explosive topics at the time. We have come so far.
People just don't realize how explosive it was."
Coach
Oliver Elders. Though
he was to
coach basketball as a new teacher at Horace Mann High School, Elders never
fielded a basketball team that year. He, like other teachers, parents, and
students were frustrated.
"The biggest frustration was to not have students. You
just can't conceive of how a teacher feels coming to school every day
without students to teach. It's almost like you're in gear. You are
accustomed to having students around you and presenting and teaching and
then you walk into this big gym and nobody's there. It's quiet. It's just
like what happens during a holiday and all of a sudden, students are
dismissed on a snow day and you're walkin' into
the gym and there's just a hush, a quietness. And that went on…every day.
It left an impression with you, 'My goodness, what are we doin'?'"
Mary Ann Wright, teacher at Hall High said that
teachers with differing views avoided discussions with one another.
"I think everybody knew how everybody else felt….I think
you tended to gravitate toward the people who felt the way you did. You
know, you had to be with these people every day and to be contentious with
them would've been most unpleasant."
Jerome Muldrew, a teacher at Horace Mann had
graduated from Dunbar High in Little Rock. Being a new teacher, he
described separate education at Horace Mann (opened in 1956).
"The building was new. It was a beginning. I think that
the Little Rock School District was looking at the writing on the wall. That
the day was over for second class textbooks and poor facilities and that
type of thing."
Lola Dunnavant,
a teacher at Central. As schools remained closed the morale among teachers
decreased and fears about job insecurity rose. Dunnavant recorded in her diary on February 16,
1959:
"Nearly everybody seems to have lost spirit.
They just go
from day to day. I do hope that I will not have to leave Little Rock next
year, but one never knows. If the schools do not open, I will have to get
another job….but to go away alone and leave my home and friends, that's
hard."
Western Little Rock was predominately white.
The
black population resided more in the racially integrated areas
in the center of the city. Oliver Elders, a black coach at Horace Mann who
was new to Little Rock talked about the generally accepted rule that he
had heard: blacks should not venture west of High Street.
"There was just a whole lot of agitation then, a whole lot
of talking and all that kind of stuff. I did feel that I wasn't welcome
over there and I didn't intend to go over there to find out whether I was
or not. Why would I go over there to find out whether I was or not? I
didn't go over there to shop, I had no friends over there. So I said, '
fine.' "
Jo Ann Royster, a "purged" teacher from Central
High, was only in her second year of teaching. On May 5, 1958 three
segregationist members of the Little Rock School Board declared themselves
a quorum and began firing teachers and administrators. They fired 5 blacks
and 39 whites. Of these, 27 were from Central and 17 from other
schools. Jo Ann Royster said.
"I remember being greatly surprised when I saw my name on
that list, but then when I read all the names I felt that was very good
company to be in. But it certainly did stir things up, I'll tell you that.
It really got the community behind the schools."
Lost Year Student Excerpts:

These comments come from the "Lost Year" students
affected by the high school closings:
One former student who wished to be
anonymous said:
"My parents felt that Governor Faubus had no other
choice. They were staunch segregationists and totally behind him. They
praised him highly. Racial integration was preached to be wrong from the
pulpit and confirmed in the home."
This same student attended high school in a nearby
community where she described how she was received in the rural school.
"There were some really sweet students that attended
Fuller who accepted us, but others were very angry that we were there…it's
funny that race had nothing to do with this situation. It was, instead, a
city versus country issue."
Lost Year
Student Chris Barrier
Roy Wade, a black junior, enrolled in nearby
Wrightsville and recalled relationships within the overcrowded school.
"We were able to establish some friendships with some of
them, but they felt we were invading their space and their school and
(we) hindered them because of the numbers. There were so many until it
affected their education as well as our education."
Paul W. Hoover, Jr. was the son of a prominent
Little Rock surgeon. Being white and from a financially secure family he
was able to transfer to a private prep school for boys in Chattanooga,
Tennessee. He doesn't remember being "necessarily pleased" with the
decision, but Hoover now looks back and says:
"It was the finest and best decision my parents ever made
for me because it turned my life around. You had to study, you had to work
for everything you got there."
Grant Cochran, a black sophomore, moved in with his
grandparents about sixty miles from Little Rock.
"My grandfather drove a school bus and would pick up all
the kids in the rural area and take us down to a highway and then I would
catch the yellow bus all the way to Menifee High. Of course, we would have
to get up early in the morning, around four or five o'clock, and then we'd
get back home about six or seven o'clock in the evening."
Danny Pytilla was scheduled to be a sophomore at
Horace Mann High but he did not attend school anywhere that year. The
eldest of eight children, he sadly remembers they lived with their
grandmother in a housing project in one of the poorest neighborhoods,
Granite Mountain. He explained further:
"We had just lost our mother to a serious illness in May
of 1958 and there was no way my grandmother could afford to send me
anywhere else to school."
Dick Gardner
was a white junior who lived one block
from Central High and waited with friends and neighbors for schools to
open in the fall of 1958. By October, Gardner asked his parents to give
permission for him to join the U.S. Navy. He joined the Navy at seventeen
and served until he was twenty-one.
"We didn't have a school and we didn't have a job and it
didn't look too good. The Navy would give me a job. They would train me.
I think things would have been different if I had not left home. I know
I would have finished high school at Central. I'd have gone to college. My
daddy would have seen to that. He would have seen to it."
Carol Hallum, a white displaced junior, attended T.
J. Raney High, a private high school that opened in October of the Lost
Year. Many considered it to be a segregationist school since Governor
Faubus supported it publicly and solicited donations in public speeches. But Hallum believes some attended because it was free.
"When they said there was going to be a private school
and it would not cost anything, my parents said, 'you're going.' I didn't
go to the other private school because it cost. There was tuition for the
Baptist High School and we didn't have the funds for that. So until Raney
opened up, I would not have gone to school. There was no other place to
send me."
Toshio Oishi
was a Japanese American whose family had
been interned during WWII and later worked as laborers on a truck farm in
Scott, AR. Because of declining enrollment, all Scott high school
students were bussed to nearby schools in England or to Central High School in Little Rock during the
crisis year of 1957 - 1958. Oishi's comments help explain the racial tone of
the time.
"I was very concerned during registration and prior to
attending Central High of being given a difficult time because my skin
was dark from working outdoors on the farm. This turned out to be an
unwarranted fear."
David Scruggs, a white senior from Central High
and
Sports Editor for the student newspaper, the Tiger, hoped for a career
in journalism. He attended the second semester of his senior year at T. J.
Raney, a private white school.
"I always felt that
year I was at loose ends. I wasn't studying journalism anymore. I didn't
have a lot of will. My grades were bad. I did not do well.
I can't say I really profited at all academically."

Jerry Baldwin, a sophomore at Central High, rode
the bus to Hazen, AR.
"We rode the Trailway bus from the terminal downtown. My
mother had seen an article in the newspaper and called and got me on the
list and I was accepted. I attended the whole year, as did all of us that
rode the bus."
Bowman Burns, a black junior from Horace Mann
didn't go to school
"I didn't go to school that year. I got a job and I
thought I would take advantage of it, what it really boiled down to. It
really began to soak in that you are going to have to get out there on
your own. I wish I had gone on to school now that I look back at it.
Because I would have graduated with my own class, when I ended up
graduating with the next class."
Almeta Lanum Smith was to be a junior at Horace
Mann High. Instead both she and her sister went to Pine Bluff (about 50
miles away) to attend a black Catholic high school.
"We didn't have a car. We were just fortunate, we really
were. We (my sister and I) went to St. Peter's in Pine Bluff. And the way
we found out, a friend's father was working down there and he was going
every day and coming back and Carmellita Smith was going with her dad and
she and my sister were very good buddies. And so my mother asked if we
could ride along with them. So that's what we did"
Myles Adams
was a white junior at Hall High but
rode a church bus to Conway every day to attend an "academy" that Central
Baptist College formed for displaced students.
"When it (the Academy) came up, it was so late in the
year. I don't think that we started until October sometime. It was so late
that we wound up going six days a week through June of that year. Then we
had some bad winter days and we had to make up for those days. In order
for our Academy to have all our credits, we had to meet all those
guidelines."
Edie (Edith Faye Garland) Barentine, a white senior
from Hall High, was sent to Oklahoma to live with relatives for her senior
year. Before, she was active in her church, served as a white
counselor at an all black Methodist camp and participated in mixed-race
discussion groups at the YWCA and in private homes. She remembered saying:
"'If I ever come face to face with Orval Faubus he will
hear what I think of him.' I wanted someone to blame for what happened in
the Lost Year and what happened at Central High. Many, many years later I
ended up alone on an elevator with him. He was much older. I noticed his
suit was ill-fitting and his shoes were dirty. We made no eye contact, and
in that short ride, I thought, 'this is a man and he is vulnerable, and he
is old and tired.' And all of that hate just left me. His shoes were dirty
and I had never stood in his shoes. As he exited the elevator, I looked at
him and was able to say 'It's good to see you, Governor.'"
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