Races: The Long March

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Now the time had come to deliver on that promise. But Wallace's fighting spirit had pretty well drained away. Alabama was sick of racial violence; the state's most influential citizens put heavy pressure on Wallace, urging him not to cause trouble. Moreover, Federal Judge Seybourn Lynne had ordered Wallace not to obstruct the Negro students. The judge privately warned Wallace's lawyers that if he disobeyed the order he would face a prison term.

Thus, while he stood last week in the doorway of the university building in which the students were to register, Wallace was visibly pale and trembly.

The Charade. What happened was a charade. It went off with such precision, such inevitability, that some observers, aware of Bobby Kennedy's propensity for manipulation, suspected a fix. The Justice Department vehemently denied any deal with Wallace, but there was at least an unspoken arrangement. Both sides knew that the Negroes would eventually be enrolled in the university. The feds were willing to let Wallace put up his farcical show—for a while. Wallace wanted to avoid a long stretch in jail—and the Administration, bent on stirring up as little political resentment as possible in the South, desperately wanted to keep him out of jail. In first confronting Wallace, the Administration team thoughtfully kept the Negro students out of the way, inside automobiles parked well away from the door. That way, Wallace was not actually obstructing them and could not be charged with contempt of Judge Lynne's order.

There were two separate confrontations between Wallace and the federal officials. In midmorning, Katzenbach rode up in a border patrol car and strode purposefully to the doorway. There Wallace stood waiting. He had a lectern in front of him, a microphone draped from his neck and a swarm of state troopers near by. As Katzenbach reached the spot, Wallace snapped out a crisp command: "Stop!"

Katzenbach called upon Wallace to give "unequivocal assurance that you will not bar entry to these students." Wallace broke in: "We don't want to hear any speeches." Then, while Katzenbach fidgeted under the broiling Alabama sun, Wallace read off a ponderous, five-page proclamation. Concluded he: "I denounce and forbid this illegal and unwarranted action by the Central Government."

When Wallace finished, Katzenbach asked him to "step aside." Wallace simply stood there. "From the outset, Governor," said Katzenbach, "all of us have known that the final chapter of this history will be the admission of these students." Wallace remained silent, glaring with melodramatic scorn. "Very well," said Katzenbach. He turned away, and, under a prearranged plan, the feds escorted the two students to their dormitory rooms.

Katzenbach telephoned Bobby. Bobby called the President, who ordered that the Alabama National Guard be called into federal service.