University Place

>> Thanks. Thank you. Thanks for coming down. It's always great to come back to Madison. It's great to come back and work with Wisconsin Public Television, and now the Alumni Association. My envelope is in the mail, I promise. Anyway, it's great to be here. This has been a long and really wonderful journey with this program. It began three years ago, actually, when I was talking to my daughter who was in college, not here, a bit to the south in Chicago. She said, "I'm just taking this awesome class from this teacher." An amazing class, amazing book, dad. She said, "You know, sometimes the way you pick shows to make for your series, I just have to wonder about, but this one is a show, dad. You should really make this into a film." So, I read the book, and we got the rights to the book and decided to make it into a film, because she was right. It had all the elements of an amazing story. It had incredible characters. It was an important moment. But what really struck me was that after I'd read the book, you know, I thought this is going to appeal to my generation. It's going to appeal to boomers, because they lived through it. This is their story. But I thought, wow, you know, it also appeals to my 22-year-old, you know, what is it about this story that appeals to her? The more we got into the making of the film, that became apparent. You'll see some of that tonight. This is three years ago. I intentionally then commissioned the film with an amazing filmmaker in New York. We worked with Stanley Nelson, who made a film for us on the murder of Emmett Till, which caused the Justice Department to re-open the investigation of that murder. We picked the best filmmaker in the country to make this story. We wanted to get it done in time to actually have it travel around the country. We premiered it in January, 2010, at the Sundance Film Festival. In the 15 months since then, we've been screening it around the country at festivals, at forums like this. We've had a traveling exhibit that has traveled to 25 cities, including to Milwaukee. I was there in February. It's traveling around the country. We've developed a curriculum for high schools all around the Freedom Rides. It's being distributed nationally starting this spring, and certainly in the fall. Perhaps most excitingly for me, we decided about a year ago that we were going to recreate a freedom ride. So we asked for applicants. We wanted the same age as many of the participants in this. We asked for college students to apply. We got 1,000 applications from around the country. Beginning May 6, we are taking 40 college students on an all expenses paid trip from Washington, DC, all the way to New Orleans. They're going to be on a bus with the original Freedom Riders, having a cross-generational discussion about, really, all about one question, "Could you get on the bus?" And on the bus, figuratively, means, could you make a commitment, can you put it on the line? What gets you excited to make a commitment? What will it take? You don't have to put your life on the line, necessarily. But what is it that makes you, you know, energized enough, today? In 1961, it was what we refer to now as an analog time. You put your body on a bus and traveled through the south, you know. Now we live in a digital time. It's invisible, social media. And how can we tell when something's coalescing? Last month, you could tell when something was coalescing here. That was an analog event, very much so, at the Capitol. We're going to have that conversation. It's really exciting. I could talk about it more about that later, but that's a really exciting moment. We're going to watch the first half-hour of the film. I just want to say, one of the universals that came out of the story when I first became interested in it, is that I think it really hones in on something that I think is really misunderstood about history. And Will, I'm interested in his viewpoint on this. He knows a lot more about history than I do. But what I learned is that history is anything but inevitable. It's made up of twists and turns that depend upon individual choices. Looking backward, it looks inevitable. It looks like everything had to go, one thing to the other. We had to come apart, almost, as a country 150 years ago. We had to have a Civil War, and we had to have the Depression for a number of reasons. It looks inevitable. It's not. In 1961, our leadership in Washington, and quite frankly, the leadership at that time of civil rights organizations, was behind the curve on this particular story. What was ahead of the curve, riding the wave, to use another metaphor, were 18- to 25-year-olds, who said, we are going to take the reigns of history in our hands, and we're not going to let go. That's a really inspiring and exciting story. Heaven knows we're in a leadership gap these days, across the board. We need that kind of responsibility of each and every citizen, I think is really critical. I think that's the enduring story. That's why this story leaps across 50 years. Fifty years ago next month is when this all began. It leaps across it. Let's look at the first half-hour, and then we're going to come back, okay? Thanks. It's hard to follow that clip from the film. I've seen the whole film, and it's really-- The rest is even more powerful, so I urge you to see it. I want to underline Mark's point about the importance of this moment as a moment of the emergence of a new generation of leadership. In some ways, the degree to which this event represents a constellation or a coherence between an earlier generation of leadership and the new generation that really came to emerge in the early 1960s. The idea of the Freedom Rides was actually an old idea that was first proposed during the second World War by Bayard Rustin, who was one of the founders of CORE, the Congress on Racial Equality, who had founded CORE with James Farmer, who's a prominent figure in the film we just saw. Rustin was probably the most prominent advocate of non-violent civil disobedience in the United States, based on his understanding of what had happened in the independence movement in India, led by Mathatma Gandhi. He was sort of advocating the application of these strategies into the United States. He actually got the idea to organize CORE during the second World War. And as an organizer, started traveling by bus through the south on his own. This was actually the origin of this strategy of Freedom Rides where he would actually just as an individual start resisting segregation. He'd be on a bus in his way to the south, people would tell him to move into the black section, and he would say no. He, during this, was really brutally beaten, as you can imagine. One particular incident in Nashville, Tennessee, where he was arrested, the police came onto the bus and started beating him right on the bus. Rustin got a kind of peculiar conclusion from this. He sort of suffered this beating, but then he said he was really impressed by the reaction of the other people on the bus. The white people on the bus actually started to object to this and told the police to stop, because he was being beaten right in front of them. He said, well, this really shows the power of non-violence. You'll get beaten, but it will have an impact. So he started to advocate a larger campaign in 1946, which was after the Morgan decision, which is referenced in the film. The Supreme Court ruled that interstate transportation, segregation on interstate transportation violated the Constitution. Now, this was a Supreme Court ruling that was largely ignored by transportation companies and by local authorities in the south. So in many ways, this was actually similar to, and was a precursor to these 1961 riots. They were initiated by CORE, by Rustin and James Farmer. It was an inter-racial group, mostly of northerners, some of whom were from North Carolina, but most of them were from northern cities. They started in Washington, so like the 1961 riot. There were a couple of important differences. One is that they didn't try to enter into the deep south. Their idea was actually to ride from Washington to Chapel Hill, North Carolina, and not go farther into the south. They thought that this would avoid really overt violence and intense violence. In some ways this worked. The ride actually made it to Chapel Hill. There were a few arrests. There were some threats of violence, but they actually made it all the way to Chapel Hill. A couple of other differences, the riders were all adult men. This was a conscious decision there were actually a number of women, Ella Baker, Pauli Murray, really experienced civil rights activists who were involved in planning this event. They actually didn't participate the idea was to keep it all men, to avoid that tension of having particularly black men and white women on these rides. It also reflected a conservatism of the earlier movement. Which I think would become particularly important if you watch the rest of the film you'll see the really central role that Diane Nash and other young women play in the Freedom Rides that I think shows perhaps it was a miscalculation in the really important role that they played in the 1960s. Probably the most important difference was the reaction of civil rights leaders. There were a few civil rights-- There were actually two major civil rights leaders who supported this. A. Philip Randolph, who was a union leader, who probably was the most prominent civil rights activist at the time. Roy Wilkins, who would later actually be the head of the NAACP. At the time he was the second in command of the NAACP. And as Bayard Rustin said, every Negro leader I talked to except for Randolph and Wilkins thought we were absolutely insane. He said, Thurgood Marshall, who was an attorney for the NAACP said, you know, "Rustin you are insane to try this, just dumb." The reaction was, this is just totally insane. To even suggest this is suicidal. Many people thought that Rustin was suicidal that he was just trying do this to get himself killed. One thing is what changed between 1946 and 1961 that didn't create a completely different situation, but I think created some really important dynamics. The most important was the emergence of a mass based civil rights movement in the South. That played a really important role. Northern activists had been trying to do this for decades. They were sometimes joined by a few activists mostly from southern cities, but the degree to which these Freedom Rides depended on support from Black southerners who were willing to join them and support them was really the critical difference. They remained extremely isolated as you've seen, subjected to horrific violence, but their ability to withstand that, and continue to move through the south really depended on the support they got from southern activists. That ground swell of support from southern activists started to appear in the late 1950s partially as a result of the Brown decision which outlawed racial segregation in public schools. It, in a sense, like the Morgan decision, it sort of put a moral weight behind civil rights activism. The Brown decision created mass movements on both sides. I think we saw in the film both the movement to defend segregation at the local level led by white citizens' councils, the Ku Klux Klan, and evident really in the horrific violence that we saw in the film inflicted against the Freedom Riders and mobilized in reaction to the Brown decision. In some respects the sort of lack of attention that the earlier Freedom Ride gained would've been impossible in the wake of the Brown decision, it heightened this issue on both sides and really created tensions on both sides. Civil rights activists also mobilized in the south on behalf of implementing the Brown decision. The most famous of these examples is the Montgomery bus boycott, which emerged right after the Brown decision. It was a really incredibly well organized boycott of public transportation in the city of Montgomery, it lasted a year and ended with the ending of legal segregation in public transportation in the city of Montgomery. The effect of this was to legitimize nonviolent civil disobedience as a strategy. I think most importantly in the eyes of civil rights activists. Leadership in civil rights organizations saw this as a strategy that could actually work. It also created a new generation of Black leadership in the south. We saw the role that Martin Luther King, who emerged out of the Montgomery movement would play in supporting the Freedom Rides-- Actually in the part you didn't see, he plays a much more prominent role in supporting these Freedom Rides. Probably most importantly and this gets to Mark's point, Black college students, we see the role that Diane Nash plays. She's a student at Fisk University in Tennessee. The role that John Lewis a student at American Baptist College also in Tennessee plays. To a smaller extent, white students many of them from the north, the most prominent figure in this would again come later in the story is Jim Zwerg, who was a white student actually from Wisconsin. He was attending school at Beloit College, participated in an exchange program that took him to Fisk University for a year. He thought he was just going down to go to college, he got involved in the Freedom Rides while he was down there. I think these students and this sort of broader cohort of southern activists played a really critical role in the continuation of the ride. The effect of the violence that we saw in Anniston that would continue in Birmingham and then in Montgomery had the effect of actually stalling the original ride. These students came down from Tennessee and picked up the rides and continued them down to New Orleans. We can understand this moment in 1961 as part of the really important, really critical transformation in the broader civil rights movement. A movement that had largely been very isolated, carried on by professional activists who many of them were in the north. Or if they were in the south, in very large cities, to one that had a mass base across the south. Bayard Rustin would later identify this as what he called a moment in which you started to see what he called a transition from protest to politics, in which civil rights activists could start to think about actually shaping policy both at the local level and even at the national level. This united northern and southern civil rights activists and also coupled this strategy of nonviolent civil disobedience with broader political strategy that I think we would see it evident on a national level in the March on Washington in 1963, just a few years later. As Bayard Rustin pointed out this actually allowed the civil rights movement to talk about a broad arrange of issues that were related to voting rights and segregation in the south, but also access to housing, housing discrimination, job discrimination, and improving conditions of employment. He argued that this sort of opened up a much broader range of issues related to economic justice that would become really central to the civil rights movement as the 1960s went on. We're going to talk a little bit about the impact of that movement in Milwaukee and I think you can see the emergence of a connection between southern activism around segregation and voting rights and the way in which it very quickly became a national movement that was aimed at not just addressing Jim Crowe in the south, but racial inequality more broadly and nationally. Perhaps just to end, I think importantly was the impact that this sort of sustained movement that had sort of a local base of support was able to put pressure on a federal government that, it becomes clear in the film also, is very strongly resisting moving this, and sort of put the Kennedy administration in a position where they really couldn't ignore what was happening. Again it's something that is captured really beautifully in the broader movie that I hope you'll take time to see. I guess I'll stop there. We have time for a discussion. I'll call up, we have three participants in this panel that I'll introduce. The first one is Mark. Mark Samels is the executive producer of PBS American experience. He's a native of Wisconsin, a graduate of UW-Madison. He's also the executive producer of "Freedom Riders," the film that you've just seen. Vel would you like to come up? Vel Phillips is a distinguished professor at Marquette School of Law. She's currently writing a memoir based on her leadership in the civil rights movement in Milwaukee. In 1956, she was elected, the first woman-- the first African American and the first woman on the City Council of Milwaukee. Finally we have Chris Hexter, who is an attorney in St. Louis. He's a graduate of UW-Madison, and has been a civil rights activist since 1960. He was involved in CORE in St. Louis, the Congress on Racial Equality, and also participated in Freedom Summer, which was a program aimed at recruiting college students from northern universities to go to Mississippi and participate in a voting rights campaign in Mississippi in 1964. ( applause ) I'll start out with some questions, and then we can move to questions from the audience, because I'm sure you all have some questions also. I guess I wanted to give Mark a chance to talk. You introduced the film. But to say a few words about why are we telling this story now? In addition to it being the 50th anniversary, what can we learn about the story? >> Well, anniversaries are always good in history, so that's a big reason. What you basically saw in this clip is really sort of the context and the lay of the land that sets up a pretty dramatic change that happens right after the lights came on, which is that CORE decides to call off the Freedom Rides. The Freedom Rides are over. They're dead. They're done. Because what happens in Birmingham, which we didn't see, is that that other bus is just dramatically attacked, and really beaten. What's beginning to happen is that the national media are starting to cover this. So some of these images are starting to come out, so they called it off. Word trickles up to Nashville, and a group of students led by Diane Nash, decides to take over and say, you know what, we're not going to stop. They immediately, that night, have a meeting. They sign their Last Wills and Testaments, and they decide they're going to get on this bus and go. They get on two buses. They leave the next morning at 5:30 in the morning, headed for Birmingham, and they continue. They actually never do get as far as New Orleans, because they end up in Parchman Prison in Mississippi, the most feared prison in the country. That part of the story, which you have to have the grounding to understand where this came from, that part of the story, I think is enormously relevant right now, because what we're-- And this certainly was not intentional three years ago. I mean, what are we seeing right now playing out in the Middle East, but a very grassroots, chaotic, ordinary people led series of revolutions, freedom movements, liberation moments. It's sporadic. It's chaotic, just like the Freedom Rides were. Also, really led by, not exclusively, but a large number of young people, 18 to 25 years old, like many of the 400-some Freedom Riders in 1961 were. I think it's a very-- You saw the darkest part, well, actually not the darkest part. But you saw all dark, I guess. It gets very inspiring at the end. I think that's the answer. >> Thanks. Vel, I wonder if you could just tell us a little bit about, I think is some ways, we're more familiar with the history of the civil rights movement in the south than we are with the one that happened here in our own backyard. I wonder if you could tell a little bit about your story, about what was happening here. >> Well, first of all, there was a lot of discrimination in housing in Milwaukee at the time. I lived on Walnut Street, because that's where we could afford to live. We actually had a big house, a nine-room house that my parents-- They wanted us to live with them. My husband didn't think it was a good idea. ( laughter ) He was right about that. My mother was a very strong person, and she would've been really running the show. So I lived above a drug store on Walnut Street, or we lived. As a matter of fact, a woman for instance, I saw your middle baby going up some steps on Walnut Street, where was she going? And so, my mother said, oh, I don't know. These young people. I said mother, you should've told her that's where I lived, you know. But anyway, I was in that area. And when I tried to move out, at that time, the real estate people could say, well, we don't rent to coloreds; we don't sell to coloreds. You know, they were just flat out. They had not reapportioned in Wisconsin for three decades. Thirty years. And the Secretary of State at that time refused to okay an election unless we had reapportionment. Now, it's taken for granted, every ten years, you reapportion. That's how I knew about the Secretary of State, because he said that the people in the northern part of Wisconsin were counting the trees and the cows. ( laughter ) In order to keep their representation. So I joined the League of Women Voters. The Journal and the Sentinel, which were separate at the time, were both advocating reapportionment. I went door to door for reapportionment. I guess that was really the first thing. I saw so much poverty. Because we were living in the area, I was working in my area. I saw all this, you know, space heaters, where it would be hot in one room and then you'd go into the kitchen, and they'd say, well, come in. And the oven would be on, and the door would be open to heat the kitchen, which is very dangerous for children, for anyone. I was introduced to that. I thought this shouldn't be, so I asked my husband to run for alderman. I said, you know, I would explain to the people in the NAACP, you guys should be interested in this reapportionment, and they just sort of treated me like I had just gotten out of college and I was way up in the air somewhere, and they ignored it. Anyway, my husband promised that he would run if they would redistrict. But then he chickened out. ( laughter ) He said, I just want to practice law and make some money. But he said, "You have the same credentials that I have, why don't you do it?" So his insistence was not really so high minded, it was just he didn't want me to bother him about it, you know. ( laughter ) Then that's when I learned. We had a -- in the green sheet, that most of you probably don't remember the green sheet. But the green sheet had run a story that we were the first man and wife law team to be admitted to the Eastern District of the Federal Bar. Doyle Getter, who wrote at that time a little column called "All Things Considered" in the Journal, interviewed us, and I got to know him. He's the one that said, well, to run. Actually, when I think about it, I was elected in 1956. Between '56 and '60, of course my election, I snuck in. They really didn't know. I had no pictures, nothing. My name was Vel, which is short for a longer name. They didn't know that I was a woman. They didn't know that. ( laughter ) And they didn't know that I was African American. So, it was very sneaky, really. ( laughter and applause ) But it worked. Anyway, the thing I really wanted to say was that I got so involved in this whole thing. The City Council of course treated me, they were just, first of all, I found out after nine years, almost ten years of marriage that I was pregnant. So they got a woman and a half, really, you know. ( laughter ) It was rough, being on the City Council, because I decided for the first four years I wouldn't do anything, I would just listen and learn. And I had two babies. Michael, who is here. Stand up and wave at everyone. I decided I would just listen and learn, and I did. But I knew I wanted to work on fair housing, because I had been treated so badly by the real estate people, that that was really in the back of my mind. In any event, when I'd go door to door for reapportionment, people would say, honey, I just can't vote today, I don't feel well, I'll go tomorrow. And I'd have to tell them that you have to go today, you know. In any event, it was an exciting time. My career, which was really very small, really, in comparison, but I got to know three presidents on a very personal basis, JFK, LBJ and Jimmy Carter. Martin Luther King, he called me, and I'd leave him hanging on the phone if Michael was crying, or something. ( laughter ) I'd say I'll call you back, and he'd say, no, I'm going to stay on the phone, because you're not going to call me back. I think about that, because we all knew he was very special. Very, very special. But we didn't, at least I didn't at the time, think of him in terms of who he is now, you know, Martin Luther King now. The funniest thing, when I go to schools and talk about Martin Luther King, the teacher introduces me and says, she was a friend of Martin Luther King. Young people don't, age is-- They think of Martin Luther King like we would think of George Washington or Abraham Lincoln. ( laughter ) So as soon as the question period would come, the children would ask, "How old are you?" ( laughter ) It was so easy. Roy Wilkens called us personally and asked us to come to the March on Washington. It was just, oh, that was an experience. I thanked him later. We didn't go on the bus. We just took the airplane. We spent the money. He said it would be so important if we were there, because we were a couple, and there weren't many law couples. Martin Luther King-- I took down some names. I wondered why that you didn't call John Lewis. He was so exciting. He's such a good speaker. I got to know him very well. He's such a good speaker. And well, of course, Thurgood is gone, but he was just the dearest man. He and my husband, they both liked -- or something like that. I think that's the name of the drink, isn't it? ( laughter ) You don't know either? ( laughter ) But I think all these people like Gloster Current, who was with the NAACP. It was a wonderful time to be alive, and to be contributing. When the City Council, they treated me-- They didn't want me. It was in the newspaper that I was using the men's bathroom. My mother was mortified. ( laughter ) Gosh, she just couldn't dream. She didn't even want me to go. The first time, see I introduced, started on the fair housing. Five years, I worked introducing it, you know, before Groppi called me and said, could he join my cause. Many people think that Groppi was the main one, but I had been doing it for five years. But I must admit that until he joined, I didn't get any attention, really. They just sort of, you know, she's doing it again, and vote it down again, and that was it, you know. But when Groppi joined my cause, really, it was just kind of fascinating, this white priest and these black, kind of ghetto kids, it was too much like Bob Flannigan in Boystown. ( laughter ) And they just loved it. Groppi was a lot of fun. He was very, very earnest. Even though he enjoyed the attention, he never tried to steal the show from me. Reporters would come up and say when is the housing bill going to be introduced, and he said, we're just here supporting Vel. She's the leader here. We're here to support her. So he never tried to take credit for anything. The papers sort of played him up a lot, which I can understand, because nothing really happened during those five years. When he joined the cause, is when things started happening. Lloyd Barbee, who was in the legislature at the time would call me and say Vel, why are you letting Groppi get all the credit, and I'd say, I'm not worried about credit. I just want a bill. The federal government passed the Fair Housing Law, and that did it. That really was the thing that did it. But along the way, I have stayed active. I'm now writing a book. And I did bring a book that I wanted you to see. This young white student who got his dissertation. >> I'll hold the microphone, you hold the book. >> Okay. I helped him with his dissertation. We met every Saturday at the Chocolate Factory. ( laughter ) For about a year. And I guess since it was all free, he decided he'd put me on the cover of his book. I looked at this picture and I think, god Vel, were you ever that young? ( laughter ) I wanted you to see it. It's in depth on housing. Let me see, what else? I wrote a few notes. Well, you have questions. Why don't I just pass it on and let you have questions. Is that all right? >> We're going to take a few more questions, and then we're going to turn it to the audience. We also have a film clip from Milwaukee that we'll share in a few minutes. >> Oh, really? >> It's a surprise. ( audio feedback ) Chris, I wanted to ask you, a white student from St. Louis, how do you end up in Mississippi in 1964? >> First of all, I want to thank the Alumni Association for this event. It's wonderful to come back to campus. I've spent two wonderful days here. I'm just very fond of this place. I was a student here from 1963 off and on for nine years, till 1972. I'm a double Badger. I went to law school here as well. When I arrived here, candidly, I was a faculty brat. My father taught at Queens College in New York. Then I'd come out to Washington U in 1957. St. Louis was a segregated city. It was legally segregated. In 1963, I had been raised, I knew about Brown v. Board of Education. My father saw the history of Montgomery, so he said, Martin Luther King, that's a guy who's going to go somewhere. So, I was pretty aware of that stuff. A friend of mine got me involved in Congress of Racial Equality in St. Louis in the summer of 1963, between my senior year in high school and coming up here. Two days after the March on Washington, we had a major sit-in at a St. Louis bank, which held the deposits for all the city employees. The reason that happened is there were no African American employees above a custodial level. And of course, in 1963, there was no law to compel that, because they hadn't had Title VII yet. So I came to Wisconsin. When we sat in at the bank in St. Louis, we violated a court injunction, so it was serious history. If anybody knows, there was a congressman named William Clay, many people spent months in prison because of that. It was sort of a cause clbre in St. Louis. I came up to Madison. I was sort of-- And shortly after that was the bombing at the 16th Street church in Alabama. That was first demonstration. We had a demonstration down at the state capitol, sort of a commemoration, a memorial service. That summer, I read a lot about civil rights. I read a book called "Mississippi, The Closed Society," by a professor named James Silver, who had been thrown out of Mississippi. Literally had to run from Mississippi because he had befriended-- He was the only white professor on that campus who befriended James Meredith. He had been there for 27 years, but that didn't count when he had done that. He had to escape. He ended up a visiting professor at Notre Dame. Long story short, the connection to Madison is they had a speaker's program in Madison that year. It was sort of like politics in the United States, and among the other speakers they had George Wallace, who was supposed to be the liberal after James Patterson, who you saw on the screen. I mean, George Wallace ran as the liberal candidate, which tells you something about the politics in Alabama. James Silver was one of the persons on that program. You could apply to a colloquium, and I did. As I say, I'd read his book so I was fascinated by Mississippi. I'd read "Mind of the South," so I was into that. As he was speaking, I took out a napkin, a paper napkin, and I wrote, "Dear Professor Silver, I'd love to go to Mississippi. I'm fascinated by the state. I'm fascinated by the problems it has." And he took the napkin. I gave it to him, anyway. I said, "Could you read that?" He took it. I didn't think I'd hear from him. I mean, that's a pretty unusual thing to do. I got a letter from him a month later, saying that he had contacted two white students at Ole Miss who were working in the civil rights movement underground. You clearly couldn't do it publicly, or they would've been chased out of Mississippi. They gave my name to people who were organizing the Mississippi Summer Project, including John Lewis. Another connection to Madison, sort of two things I would say. I ended up applying. Long story short, I applied and I worked in Ruleville and Indianola in Sunflower County. Indianola is home of the White Citizens Council. It's where it was founded the day after Brown v. Board of Education. Ruleville is the home of a woman who's an icon in the civil rights movement, Mrs. Fannie Lou Hamer. I guarded her house at night during the summers, along with other volunteers. I became very close with her. In fact, in 1975, I traveled down to Mississippi with my kids. My wife and I have five children, none of them are related, and I have an African American daughter. I brought her down. I have this picture of my son and my daughter with Mrs. Hamer. She's a great woman. But I was thinking about this movie, because I was thinking about Julian Bond, and his statements about the conflict in civil rights about wanting to do a good act, and the conflict between doing that and bringing on violence. That was what the Mississippi Summer Project was. It was the toughest. It was the tough nut to crack in the south. Everybody knew it. They were struggling. So the idea was to bring down 1,000 white kids from the north, with the idea that, they didn't want it, but they kind of predicted that if that happened, the eyes of the north would go down to the south, and that there would inevitably be violence. But that violence would be exposed, and that people in the north would then see what Mississippi was all about. That's what Julian Bond said about this conflict, because we were all trained. Frankly, I think people learned from the bus Freedom Rides about how to prepare people better for what was going on. In fact, we had a lawyer in Mississippi talk to us in our training session who said, "Young folk, when y'all get arrested down in Mississippi at night, do not argue with the State Highway Patrol about the finer points of constitutional law. He is not interested in your high brow discussion of constitutional law. But we went down there and frankly, the violence did break out. Within the first day, three people were killed. Then I was arrested the day the bodies were found. I was arrested in Indianola. The condition I set with my parents was that I'd never get arrested, but that, I couldn't avoid it. But anyway, the connection with Wisconsin. I though oh, well, I'm listening to that about Roy Wilkens being a hero and being a big supporter of the Freedom Rides. By the time I was at Wisconsin, he was considered old hat. The transitions in the movement were interesting. And Bayard Rustin, who was famous, one of the gutsiest people around, and he was also the instigator behind the March on Washington. He was the brains behind the March on Washington in 1963. But Bayard Rustin became persona non grata to the more left of the movement when he opposed Martin Luther King coming out against the war in Vietnam. There were civil rights leaders who implored King not to come out. Among them was Bayard Rustin. It's just the transition. I was involved in plays in Wisconsin, doing plays with "lefty liberals," whatever you want to call it, criticizing. We literally coined Roy Wilkens "Boy Wilkens," I mean, it was so presumptuous in a way, you know. I mean, here us white guys, doing it. That was sort of the Zeitgeist in Madison, you know, at the time. It was a wonderful campus. I was here at the most exciting times. It was inspiring all around. I don't know if that answers your question. >> Yeah, thank you. Could we watch that clip? >> We don't have no where to move. You won't give us open housing. Your shack, yourself-- When you have to live in a rat infested-- See your kids denied having everything that the kids have. Then you would understand... >> We feel that there is a great problem. And that nothing is being done about it. We all feel frustrated. We are tired. We marched for pretty much 200 days, and our demands went unanswered. We feel that if the black man don't get his rights, the peaceful demonstration, which we have proven to the nation, that he has a right to violence, even if he has to lose at all costs. But we do feel that it has been effective in some ways. But the main ways this here non-violence has not been effective. Because the young kids are the one that are most frustrated, and they'll go off, I'll say half-cocked, and do something. Then quite naturally, it's going to involve the rest of the black community, because we're not going to sit around and watch all the kids get shot down and fight a war, and we don't take part. We know how, and we can think out and act out accordingly, and wait for our chance. The kids are not doing that. And that puts us right in the middle. America don't have time. She has to do in the next couple of months what she didn't do in 400 years previously. Because as you notice here, I notice this year, we haven't even had much snow or anything, and it's going to get hot quicker than it did last year. It's only going to take one incident to set it off. I think Milwaukee is in more trouble than any city around this country, because it has greater problems that it's not dealing with, but is ignoring it. I think on something where I heard people say about Stokely Carmichael and Rap Brown, and they used me as an example once, saying I was advocating violence. I do not advocate violence, but I do say this. The real advocates of violence are those that sit behind a desk and deny people their God-given right, not Stokely, not Rap. But people make laws just to get elected, and laws that only benefit one people and not the other one. Those are the advocates of violence. >> I have one more question for Miss Phillips, and then we can turn to the audience. I guess, just watching that film, the story of the Freedom Riders is so much about going, sort of the increasing danger and the increasing tension of going further and further into the south. And here we are, in this film, seven years later, where this statement, "America don't have time," we've been trying to struggle-- Why is the focus so far north? And the focus is so far north, right? This isn't the deep south, right? I wondered if you could talk a little bit about that. The book that Vel Phillips referred to is "Selma of the North," by Patrick Jones. >> You knew about the book? >> I do. He was a graduate student in the history program here at UW-Madison. >> You have it? >> I do have the book, yes. It's a wonderful book It tells the story of the civil rights movement in Milwaukee. I guess, one question, to sort of end my questions on, is why Milwaukee? And why is it such a hard nut to crack? >> At the time, Milwaukee had been used by other manufacturers, people who wanted to test a product and see how it would go, I mean, just anything. Spices, and different foods, and stuff, they would send it to Milwaukee, because Milwaukee they said had such a mix of different nationalities and all, that it was a good-- If it would go in Milwaukee, then it would go, you know, just about anywhere. That's why I think-- See, Milwaukee was very, very-- The reasons people would say just flat out well no, I don't sell to you people, you know, you coloreds and all. They were very open with their discrimination. That was a big thing for me. I had not-- My mother, because she thought it was not ladylike. She says, you're going on that? It's not ladylike to be running up and down the street shouting and hollering, you know. So I said, well, mom, we won't be doing that. We'll just be singing. Singing freedom songs, and all. She thought it was just outrageous, really. But she was definitely, definitely against discrimination. She didn't like the Packers, and of course, my children and I love the Packers. She didn't like them at all because this Curly Lambeau, is that the man, had said that he would never hire any black people at all as a football player. I went to Howard University, and my friend was a Redskin-- He had season tickets, my boyfriend at the time. And my mother said, you go to those games? Don't you know that the Redskins are the only ones that are worse than the Packers? Actually, I don't know how many people know this, but it took an act of Congress for the Redskins to hire black football players. They passed an act of Congress. That's a true story. My mother said, don't you know it took an act of Congress for the Redskins? The only ones worse than the Redskins are the Packers, you know. So once, my two boys heard me telling this story to a friend of mine on the phone. She said, oh, are you going to watch the Packer game? And I said, oh, no, and I told the story. And I heard, I don't know if it was Michael or Dale, I heard him say, Dad, would you tell mom not to tell that story about Green Bay, something that happened in B.C. ( laughter ) But Milwaukee was a good testing ground. They had a lot of prejudice at the time. I didn't know what I was really coming up against when I started out, because I was really very innocent in a way. All I wanted, I didn't care who got the credit, I just wanted a bill. And I mean to tell, every time they'd bring it up, I would lose. My husband once told me, because I had a little phrase, I'd say, well, every time I lose, I win a little. My husband said you've said that at least 15 times, don't say it anymore. Find something else, you know. But it was true. It was tough going in the council. Not only for that, but for everything for women. They didn't want me in the bathroom. They redecorated and had two in every office. No one in the office with me, because I was black and I was a woman. And -- and I got to be very good friends. So she said to me once, we were kind of in back. I made the statement that both of us were first-- You know, I was the first black woman to graduate from the University of Wisconsin Law School. And I didn't even think that was a big deal, because there were only about 12 women in the whole school. ( laughter ) So being the first black was not a big deal. I never used it. I hate to say when I graduated law school, because it makes me, you know, very, very old. >> B.C.? >> Yeah, B.C.! ( laughter ) But I graduated in 1951. I was the first African American woman to graduate from the law school. ( applause ) My husband was a year ahead of me, and believe it or not, they'd say when they'd see the two of us, oh, wow, gee, Dale, you're really lucky to have a built-in secretary. This is what they'd say. My husband would kick me, so I wouldn't take off on 'em. He'd say "shh," all like that. I'd say, well, he might be my secretary! What are you talking about? But anyway, I graduated, and I never used that, that first, because it was just an accident that I was the first. The black woman who was from Africa was supposed to graduate, but since her husband was an abuser-- she was from Britain-- Well, from Africa, but Britain had colonized this particular place. And she said, you know, Vel, I'm staying on to get my masters in law, because if I become a barrister before my husband becomes a barrister, that she was separated from, he will beat me, and everything. So I would say to her, don't let him dictate your agenda. You graduate. By her not graduating, I became the first woman. I never used it until I got on the council. And as I told you, I did sneak on the council. I just got in there before they knew that I was black and female. ( laughter ) Then I did not introduce anything for four years. I just wanted to, as I said, listen and everything. But the thing that I thought was interesting is when Roy Wilkens called us and asked us to go. Oh, when I was at Howard University, the president of NAACP was, I thought, a white man. His name was Walter White. Do you remember him? He was just a white man. I had been chosen to go. I was only 17 years old, you could tell. I was very young. When I saw this man-- It was a panel. We had panels in the morning, then lunch, then panels in the afternoon. I said to Walter White, I shouldn't have said it, I said, I didn't know there was a white man that was the president of the NAACP, the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. And so he said, oh, you didn't? Then he turned to the woman who was in charge and said, I'd like this young lady to sit next to me at lunch, and can we arrange that. So the woman said, well, yes. So I thought, I wondered why he'd want to sit next to me. So I sat next to him, and he said, I noticed that you think I'm a white man. He said I'm not a white man. I said well, you look like-- I wanted to say, you're the whitest looking black man I ever saw in my life. ( laughter ) Because you couldn't tell! I didn't say that, of course. I just said, well, no one would know it. And he taught me this. He said, let me just give you a hint, have you ever heard the term "a little drop will do it"? ( laughter ) And I had never heard that. I said, what does it mean? It means, in this America, if you're just a little bit, if you go way back and you're a little bit black, anywhere in the line, you were black. >> The musical "Showboat." >> Yes. >> The percentage that the woman, the lead actress in "Showboat" was a percentage black, and that was what caused all the problems. >> Absolutely right. But I didn't think of that at the time. I just thought-- And I learned that, as my first lesson. When I went back to Howard University, I joined the NAACP, and I'm still a life member today, and my husband, too. Milwaukee was an interesting city. My husband absolutely adored Milwaukee. Of course, he was from Omaha, and if you're from Omaha, Nebraska, you would adore Milwaukee. ( laughter ) ( applause ) You would adore it. In their commercials were Johnson's Hog Feet. I said, god, and there was a little pond, almost, and he said, we're going to the lake. A little pond. So he loved Milwaukee, the parks, Lake Michigan, and all that. So that's how I got stuck in Milwaukee. But it's been good to me. It really has. Did I answer your question? >> You did. ( laughter and applause )