The Congress: The Covenant

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"The Time Has Come." "Mr. President," said Dirksen in that voice that turns hoarseness into authority, "it is a year ago this month that the late President Kennedy sent his civil rights bill and message to the Congress." In the gallery an elderly Negro minister craned forward and cupped an ear. Dirksen continued: "Sharp opinions have developed. Incredible allegations have been made. Extreme views have been asserted. There has been unrestrained criticism about motives." As for himself, Dirksen noted, "I have had but one purpose, and that was the enactment of a good, workable, equitable, practical bill having due regard for the progress made in the civil rights field at the state and local level. I am no Johnny-come-lately in this field. Thirty years ago, in the House of Representatives, I voted for anti-poll-tax and antilynching measures. Since then, I have sponsored or co-sponsored scores of bills dealing with civil rights.

"The time has come," said Dirksen, "for equality of opportunity in sharing in government, in education, and in employment. It will not be stayed or denied. It is here." The chamber was dead-quiet. "America grows. America changes. And on the civil rights issue we must rise with the occasion. That calls for cloture and for the enactment of a civil rights bill."

Dirksen jabbed an index finger at his colleagues on both sides of the aisle. His voice rose to a slightly higher pitch, taking on an extra tone of persuasiveness. The Senate, he said, had a "covenant with the people. For many years each political party has given major consideration to a civil rights plank in its platform. Were these pledges so much campaign stuff, or did we mean it? Were these promises on civil rights but idle words for vote-getting purposes, or were they a covenant meant to be kept? If all this was mere pretense, let us confess the sin of hypocrisy now and vow not to delude the people again."

The Vote. It was precisely 11 a.m., the time set to vote. While Dirksen was still talking, the presiding officer, Montana Democrat Lee Metcalf, brought down his gavel. "Is it the sense of the Senate that the debate shall be brought to a close?" Metcalf asked and ordered the yeas and nays.

"Mr. Aiken," intoned the tally clerk.

"Aye," voted Vermont's Republican Senator George Aiken.

"Mr. Allott."

"Aye," said Colorado Republican Gordon Allott.

A moment of pathos came when the clerk arrived at the name of California Democrat Clair Engle, who has undergone two brain operations and has not appeared in the Senate since April. For this occasion, Engle, smiling gallantly, had been wheeled into the chamber. When the clerk called his name, Engle tried to speak, but could not. Finally he lifted his left arm, pointed at his head, and nodded his aye.