THE SOUTH: Going His Way

To the heady tune of applause and rebel yells, Arkansas' Governor Orval Eugene Faubus went before a joint session of the state legislature in the colonnaded capitol in Little Rock with the air of a man who was sure that things were going his way. He had called the legislators into special session to pass a set of carefully lawyered bills designed to grant him sweeping new powers—to close down schools threatened by mob violence or by federal troops sent to secure integration, to transfer state funds from any closed school to any new segregated private schools, to provide, a general kickoff appropriation of $100,000—and he knew the legislators were with him. Governor Faubus, a darkly handsome and composed man when enjoying the smooth of life, set a quiet, deliberate tone as he read his prepared address. Said he: "It must be remembered that the Federal Government is the creature of the states and possesses only those powers delegated to it by the states . . . We must either choose to defend our rights against those who would usurp them or else surrender." Without further ado the legislature gave Orval Faubus almost absolute power over Arkansas' schools and schoolchildren. The votes on the key Faubus bill: senate, 33-0; house, 94-1.

In a small sense, that solitary house vote reflected the only remaining fear of a few Arkansas lawmakers, not necessarily integrationists, that the Governor was simply getting too much power. Explained the lone dissident, Lawyer Ray Smith Jr., representative from Hot Springs: "I just don't want to give that power to any Governor—even though I believe in his integrity." Smith added that he chose not to disclose his views on integration.

Completely ignoring such legal fleabites, Orval Faubus savored every moment. Said Arkansas' governor, running hard with President Eisenhower's fumbled press-conference ball: "If the President believes that the pace of integration should be slowed down until means can be worked out to accomplish it peacefully, then I am in agreement with that." Said Faubus in satisfied self-appraisal: "You know, I suppose 90% of the people in the North think I am the most rabid segregationist in the South. The fact is that I am one of the most moderate men on the subject of any of the officials in Southern states holding comparable positions."

Allowing as how he might not sign a bill moving Little Rock's Central High School opening back from Sept. 8 to Sept. 15, Faubus jockeyed against the Supreme Court's anticipated Sept. 11 ruling. If he could get the school open on Sept. 8, he would, by his lights, have accomplished at least one thing: three lily white days at Central High.