Races: The Resounding Cry

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Wallace's suit seemed doomed, for as the Justice Department pointed out earlier in the week, the President had every right to move troops to any base he wished —simply because he is Commander-in-Chief of the armed forces. And, being in Alabama, they offered not only a physical force for keeping the peace, but—possibly more important—a psychological boost for Birmingham's embattled Negroes. A top Administration official said: "The Negroes have to feel there will be hope for them and that an effort is being made. We would hope for that at the local level. But if it doesn't come that way, it'll have to come from the Federal Government."

Little came from the local level in Birmingham. Because of a court fight over who would run the city for the next two years, there was no political leadership to speak of. Mayor-elect Albert Boutwell, a relative racial moderate, said little and did less, partly because he feared overt actions might prejudice the State Supreme Court against him while the justices pondered whether Boutwell or racist Public Safety Commissioner Eugene ("Bull") Connor would rule Birmingham.

Sour Triumph. Birmingham's business community had tried to fill the leadership vacuum. Under prodding from Justice Department lawyers in the city, a 77-man group called the Senior Citizens Committee had erected a fragile truce built on pallid promises to King's Negro negotiators. King hailed the agreement as a victory at first, promised to halt his demonstrations. Last week his triumph began to turn sour.

At first, the Senior Citizens would not allow themselves to be identified. They feared economic boycott, physical harm, social ostracism. Finally, persuaded that their anonymity was undercutting the agreement and endangering the uneasy peace, they relented—and turned out to be the city's bank presidents, real estate potentates, top-drawer lawyers and blue-ribbon businessmen who employ more than half of Birmingham's labor force. The Senior Citizens promised that seven downtown stores would be desegregated, then admitted they were not yet decided about which one would do it first. According to King, they also promised that several downtown stores would hire several Negro clerks. But last week, as the Senior Citizens recalled it, they had pledged only that one store would hire one Negro clerk. At week's end, Martin Luther King, obviously disappointed, would only say that he would try to hold off further demonstrations until it was clear exactly what the white men had meant to promise.

But no matter how unsettled and unsatisfied Birmingham seemed, the Negroes' cry had carried far—and clear. In Greensboro, N.C., hundreds of Negroes went to jail because they wanted to integrate theaters and cafeterias. In Nashville, 200 Negroes battled with whites after they demanded that restaurants and hotels be integrated. In Chicago, hundreds of Negroes rioted against two dozen carloads of cops after a teenage Negro burglary suspect was shot and wounded by police. In Jackson, Miss.. Negro leaders called for mass demonstrations if businessmen refused to discuss an end to segregation. In Cambridge, Md., dozens of Negroes were jailed after they protested "intolerable discrimination." Everywhere, the Negro's push for equality was spreading.