LETTERS: GOING TO LITTLE ROCK HS IN 1957

To the editor:

My first day of high school started routinely enough. My brother and I, along with some friends, walked the usual mile and a half to Little Rock Central High School. As we neared the campus, we noticed a number of Arkansas National Guardsmen in jeeps around the school. At some of the intersections we saw half-tracks left over from World War II parked in order to block the street. When we entered the building, we quickly found out what all the fuss was about: There was going to be an attempt by some black students to enroll and integrate the school. By that time, rumors were flying all over the campus about whether or not this was really going to happen.

All of the excitement centered on the front of the school at 14th and Park streets. We watched from the windows as crowds gathered and heckled Elizabeth Eckford, the lone black girl who was repulsed by the armed Guardsmen lines up a few feet apart on Park Street. Later, eight others joined her in an attempt to enter the school. They too were denied entrance.

The crowds became restless, angry, excited. The air was tense. In subsequent days, they became ugly. There were several incidents of confrontation, heckling and some violence. When President Eisenhower heard about the situation, he federalized the Arkansas National Guard and sent in a contingent of the 101st Airborne from Fort Campbell, Ky. I never will forget the report on the evening news with Walter Cronkite as they were trucked to the campus.

The next morning, it was a different scene in front of the school. Whereas earlier the local Guardsmen were reluctant to assault their fellow citizens, that was not the case with the Airborne. Now we're talking fixed bayonets and combat helmets. The crowds were cleared out, and there was some bloodshed. The Army troops meant business.

Every morning after that, a blue station wagon pulled up and unloaded the original nine students. They were surrounded by troops and escorted to the front door. It became apparent that the outcome had already been decided, and racial integration was not a fact of life. We knew it would come someday, but we thought it would take several years to implement. We found out it was going to happen now and would take only a few days. Our lives were changed forever.

School days were routine enough. Bomb scares interrupted a few classes. All of the empty lockers were bolted shut. The campus was routinely patrolled by several pairs of soldiers, and that continued until the Christmas holidays. There were isolated incidents in the school. One of the black students, Minnie Jean Brown, was expelled for dumping a bowl of chili on another student in the lunchroom. The assault was provoked -- I saw it -- and afterward she was nicknamed "Chili Jean Brown." Cards immediately showed up with the inscription, "One Down, Eight to Go." Steaming hot towels were thrown at black students in the gym showers.

We finished up the year, and it really wasn't all that bad, but the next year at Little Rock Central was the one few people ever ask about. It's easy to describe: There wasn't any. The school canceled all classes, and the doors were locked. Students scrambled all over town to find a high school to enroll in, and many churches opened their educational facilities to meet the crisis. Terminated public school teachers were hired by the new private schools. It was bedlam, but somehow the need was met. Don't ask me about accreditation, college scholarships etc. There was no graduating class of 1959, but my older brother had already bought a senior class ring for a class that does not exist.

By chance, my family had moved across the river to North Little Rock that summer before school opened in 1958-59. For the last two years of high school, I attended a segregated school. I graduated there in 1960 with Jerry Jones, who now owns the Dallas Cowboys football team.

It was a historic event to attend LRCHS in 1957, but it hardly seems like it happened 40 years ago.

GERALD W. BEAM

Dexter