book review

University of Georgia Press

Chapter Title: Adolphine Fletcher Terry (1882–1976) Seventy-Five Years of Social Activism in Arkansas Chapter Author(s): DIANNA OWENS FRALEY

Book Title: Arkansas Women Book Subtitle: Their Lives and Times Book Editor(s): Cherisse Jones-Branch, Gary T. Edwards Published by: University of Georgia Press. (2018) Stable URL: https://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt1vhtrh3.13

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Adolphine Fletcher Terry

(1882-1976)

Seventy-Five Years of Social Activism in Arkansas

DIANNA OWENS F R A L E Y

On September 10, 1958, Adolphine Fletcher Terry phoned Vivion Brewer and asked, "Are you ready to do something about Little Rock?"1 Days earlier, Gov- ernor Orval Faubus had closed the Little Rock schools for the 1958-1959 school year and effectively displaced 3,655 black and white students.2 The previous year, Faubus had blatantly defied the federal mandate to integrate public schools and brought Little Rock, a mostly moderate sleepy southern capital, into the racially charged national spotlight. In the fall of 1957, Central High School was forced to integrate nine black students under federal protection, but in 1958, Faubus moved to deny free public education to the city's youth as a ploy to uphold segregation. Even though many of the white students during that year found al- ternative education, many of the black students were left without such options. Terry was emotionally undone after the first year of the Central High School integration crisis. In recalling the events of 1957-1958 to Brewer, she stated, "When the governor saw a chance to further his political career and caused all that trouble at Central High School, I wanted to die. It felt [like] my life was completely washed out, and I sank back in misery, trying to forget the world."3

She, like so many other southerners, both black and white, watched in horror as the events played out in the national media.

Prior to the making of that fateful phone call, Terry had retreated to the East Coast (as she regularly did) during the summer of 1958. However, the re- ceipt of some unexpected correspondence refocused her priorities upon her return to Little Rock. According to Brewer, Terry said, "cWe here in Arkansas are [the] most hospitable, the kindest, the most generous people on earth, but we have to admit it,' after screaming crowds and an opportunistic governor

156

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Adolphine Fletcher Terry 157

made her beloved home internationally infamous, cwe are just plain ignorant.'"4

A letter she received from Velma Powell, the wife of a vice principal at Central

High School, drew her into the integration crisis on a personal level. Powell

had lived at the Fletcher-Terry mansion, the family home in Little Rock, for a

year while attending college and was a dear friend of the family, so it was not

surprising that her letter had a profound impact on the elderly social activist,

challenging her understanding of current events and prompting her to action.

Powell's letter read something like this: "In the past whenever problems have

had to be faced in Little Rock, you have taken a lead in solving them. Why are

you silent now? Where are you?"5 At seventy-six years old and after a lifetime

of progressive activism, few would have begrudged Terry the choice of silent

anonymity now, but instead of resting on her laurels, she acted on these ques-

tions and made that pivotal phone call to Vivion Brewer. This resulted in the

formation of a women's movement in the Little Rock community to reopen the

schools. She cofounded an organization, the Women's Emergency Committee

to Open Our Schools (WEC), which held its first meeting in Terry's dining room

on September 12, 1958.6 Terry, Brewer, and Powell decided that their goal was

simple—reopen the schools—but the process proved to be much more com-

plex. To start, they were going to openly oppose the governor's segregationist

agenda and promote racial harmony in the city, no small order even in the

twilight of Jim Crow.

This begets the question, who was Adolphine Fletcher Terry? How could she

motivate the white upper-middle-class women of Little Rock to openly defy

both the political and societal norms of the day? How had she obtained so much

political clout and social influence in a southern city dominated by a "good ol'

boy" political system? Historian Stephanie Bayless contends that Terry "was in

many ways a stereotypical southern aristocrat, but she was also a strong and

intelligent woman who was committed to creating a more egalitarian world for

those Arkansans who were not in a position to help themselves."7 To accomplish

this, Terry became a champion of social causes for more than fifty years in Ar-

kansas and impacted society in ways that would not have been thought possible

in such a white patriarchal setting. As a woman of means and influence, Terry

helped her native state accept the changes of an ever-evolving nation by bring-

ing the message of integration through a body of familiar, socially acceptable

local women.8 According to her friend Vivion Brewer, "Terry has left her mark

on almost every charitable organization and on all the public welfare agencies in

the state of Arkansas."9 The WEC is often considered the most memorable of her

many contributions in large part because it demonstrated the power of white

women in the South concerning race relations.

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1$8 D I A N N A O W E N S F R A L E Y

Adolphine Fletcher was on born on November 3, 1882, in the capital city of Little Rock, Arkansas. As the first surviving child of John Gould and Adolphine Krause Fletcher, Terry was adored by both parents, and in particular her father. The Fletchers were members of the small elite society of Little Rock, which exposed Terry to a mixture of privileged and Victorian social standards and culture. Though some of John Gould Fletcher's business ventures could be con- nected to New South ideology, the bulk of his wealth was tied to cotton trad- ing. Though her unpublished memoir describes a somewhat frugal and rural lifestyle throughout her childhood, summer trips to the East Coast and Chicago point to a much more opulent life than most Arkansans were accustomed to at the turn of the twentieth century. While the traditions, customs, and racist te- nets of the New South marked Terry's early childhood, she witnessed only a few examples of social justice in these early years; each had a profound impact on her ideological development. In her memoir, Terry did not describe her mother as loving or affectionate, but she was aware of the strength of her mother's con- victions. One of the most powerful memories of Terry's youth centered on the actions of her mother, which not only imparted a glimpse into the commonness and acceptability of false and malicious accusations toward African Americans during this time period but also emphasized the importance of speaking up for those who could not. While a cousin was visiting the family in Little Rock, her diamond ring disappeared, and according to Terry, "[she accused] Fred, the black boy who worked for us ... and she wanted my mother to send for the police and have him arrested. My mother refused.... Fred, she felt, was entirely honest, or, if he wasn't entirely honest, at least he wouldn't steal from us, and the ring must be on the place somewhere."10 The cousin eventually found the ring in the folds of her skirt, but refused to acknowledge her mistake.11 Terry never forgot this incident and stated that she "had already come to recognize the fact that black people had very little chance to hold their own in an argument with a white person."12

Education beyond the borders of Arkansas was probably the gateway to Terry's transformation. Initially, her mother provided her educational instruction until she entered school at the age of nine. She subsequently went to a neighbor- hood school before attending Frederick W. Kramer School, a public institu- tion; she graduated from Peabody High School on June 2, 1898. Her mother had read about the opening of Vassar College in Poughkeepsie, New York, and believed that was the school her daughter should attend.13 Due to poor test scores, Terry was initially denied admittance to the institution, but after a visit from her father, she was accepted without any probationary period. Vas- sar was the leading institution for women's higher education at the turn of the

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Adolphine Fletcher Terry 159

century and the lessons learned there became the cornerstone of Terry's social activism.

During her time at Vassar, Terry solidified her belief system concerning race

relations in the South, which led her to dedicate her life to improving the social circumstances of those affected by racial and economic inequality in her home state. At an informal roundtable discussion with Vassar classmates, Terry re-

lated an epiphany she had had about her life and what she should do:

One evening we got off on the subject of the Negro problem in the South and I made the statement, which I had heard all of my life, although not from my father,

that if a black man assaulted a white woman he should be lynched on the spot. Lucy Burns, who came from Brooklyn and had more experience than I, looked at me with perfect horror, and I can still remember her exact words: "For the sake of

taking revenge on one poor wretch, would you destroy the very foundations of law and order in your community?" Well, I just sat back and thought about that. I knew she was right, and it really has affected my entire life. It gave me an entirely different look, an adult look, at the situation which we faced here in the [S]outh, or for that

matter, anywhere. I think that was the beginning of my spiritual education and the beginning of wisdom, and learning not to accept a thing because everybody in the community was saying it.14

Sufficiently challenged by her peers and exposed to the ideas of liberal Pro-

gressivism and the immorality of segregation in the South, Terry's experiences at Vassar forever influenced her life of advocacy for those less fortunate. Ac- cording to historian Joan Marie Johnson, "Few [white] southern women were

as brave as Virginia Durr and Adolphine Terry or as interested in challenging southern race mores."15 Terry graduated in 1902, and upon returning to Little Rock she viewed the culture differently and questioned the values of the status

quo. She reflected in her memoir, "My life would have been entirely different if I had not gone to a good eastern college, and met the kinds of people I did."16

Despite her freethinking spirit, Terry was still a wealthy young lady, and thus

at the urging of her mother she was formally introduced into Little Rock society as a debutante. "When we returned from New York," she wrote after graduation, "I felt that that phase of my life was over, but had no ideas about what I would

do next. I came back to an entirely different l i f e . . . . I had never been to real parties before, since I wasn't quite sixteen when I went away to college, but I was twenty when I came home, and ready to join the social life of Little Rock."17

To appease her mother, Terry attended parties and gatherings and participated in the traditional courtship rituals of Little Rock society. Even though this led to her meeting her future husband, David Dickson Terry, she made a rather

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1 6 0 D I A N N A O W E N S F R A L E Y

poor showing during her time as a debutante. She looked back on this youthful period of her life as wasted time and a "waiting period."18

In reality, the network of influential friends and acquaintances she acquired during this time later became instrumental in helping her accomplish many of her Progressive reforms. Through the women's clubs that were common in the Progressive era, Terry and many other southern white women found an avenue for activism while playing the part of the southern lady for the white political establishment.19 In this spirit of civic engagement, Terry cofounded in 1905 the Southern Association for College Women, which she called the College Club. She stated that before she married, "her only useful contribution [to society] was to help start the College Club, a forerunner of the Little Rock Branch of [the American Association of] University Women."20 Though the ostensible purpose of the club was to encourage women to attend college, it instead became a net- work of women whose intelligence challenged the static traditions of Arkansas society; many members of the College Club later became the grassroots activists who changed their state for the better.

In 1908, during the brief tenure of Governor X. O. Pindall (1907-1909), Terry and her friend Blanche Martin, another Vassar graduate, were asked to serve on a national committee to investigate the needs of Arkansas education and make recommendations. Being one of the few college-educated women in the state, Terry readily accepted the appointment. "In the middle of all the parties and other entertainments, I took part in the first really serious project of my life."21

In conjunction with recommendations made by the Arkansas Teachers Asso- ciation, Terry and Martin s committee reviewed the current school infrastruc- ture, as well as the "lack of revenue" and "lack of efficiency through a useless multiplication of school districts."22 Terry, upon reflection, said, "We took our appointment very seriously and after some discussion and research found that the schools around the state had no adequate supervision. Each school was a law unto itself; there were no county superintendents and no supervision of the teacher except by the local school board which appointed them. The majority of the schools were one room country schools which had remained the same since they were established, and there was no thought of consolidating the schools or transporting children to other schools."23

Terry and Martin realized that teachers best understood the educational defi- cits in the state, and so they wrote to a number of teachers asking them to sub- mit a three-hundred-word essay on either transportation or consolidation for publication. "Since we didn't have the vote yet, we wrote only to men because we felt what they had to say would have more influence," Terry noted.24 Everyone they wrote to responded. This type of activism—working within the system to

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Adolphine Fletcher Terry 161

create change—became Terry's trademark for the remainder of her life. She always tried to find ways to maneuver within the power structure of the state and society to alter them both for the better. Terry also found through her Col- lege Club connections that county newspapers had no objections to running a weekly article on education, "especially since it would not cost them anything. We did all the work and paid for our materials."25 In an inversion of the typical gender roles of the era, "Dave [Terry], who was then in law school, typed the articles for use each week."26

Success quickly came with the consolidation of the first school in Scott County in 1908. Soon legislation was passed for all schools statewide to consolidate when needed. In the 1908 annual report on Arkansas education, the superintendent of instruction, George B. Cook, conveyed the need for progressive reform in the public schools: "No longer are the public schools looked upon as merely supply houses for stored book knowledge, but these schools are expected to train the youth for citizenship and life work."27 Also outlined in the report were the rec- ommendations made by Terry and Martin s committee: "the consolidation of weak school districts into strong centralized districts, a Compulsory School Attendance Law, professional training of teachers, the election of County Su- perintendents, and the creation of a State Board of Education."28

In response to Terry's newspaper crusade, the legislative successes, and public sentiment, Governor George W. Donaghey created the twenty-two-member Arkansas Education Commission in 1910. Adolphine Terry stated, "It was such an obvious need at the time that it really went over big, and we very soon retired from printing our articles because the idea had caught on. I think we worked on it for two years and I have never worked on anything that was more pleasant or easier to do because the time was ripe for it to happen and, although we helped a little, centralization would have come anyway."29 Though Terry considered this her "waiting period," it had obviously been a productive time. She fully participated in the project of streamlining the educational system in Arkansas and witnessed measurable progressive reform.

As Arkansas addressed its educational needs, Adolphine dealt with life- changing events. After the death of her father in 1906, her mother had been diagnosed with cancer and did not want her to marry as long as she was living. "I think she would have forgiven me had we gone ahead [and married]," she wrote of her relationship with David Terry, "but I just couldn't take that chance because she was a very stubborn woman and I didn't want to hurt her. John [Terry's brother] had been a heartache to her because he had left Harvard and got to Europe against her wishes."30 Adolphine Krause Fletcher died in May 1909. On July 7, 1910, Adolphine Fletcher married David D. Terry after a four-year

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1 6 2 D I A N N A O W E N S F R A L E Y

engagement.31 Shortly after becoming a wife, she also became a mother of sorts, when David's half sister, Mary Louise, came to live with them after the death of her mother.32 "She was very smart and like me, and we became great friends.... for many years she was part of the family, and when she graduated high school she also went to Vassar College," Terry wrote.33

Terry gave birth to her first child, David, in June 19n.34 Terry stated that she purposely raised David differently than she had been reared: "Reacting to my own upbringing, I raised David not to be afraid of anything. He was never told to avoid large dogs or not to climb trees, and he could have slept on the grass if he had wanted to."35 Terry had been raised in a strict Victorian fashion, in which children were dressed warmly even during the summer months to pre- vent illness and were not allowed to get dirty or play rough in case of injury.36

Her desire to raise her son differently reveals her iconoclastic personality: she disregarded tradition for tradition's sake. She wanted her children to experience life, both the good and the bad, and to become self-reliant and knowledgeable of the world around them. In many respects, her hopes for her children were the same as her hopes for Arkansas.

Arkansas, like many southern states, was late in adopting the ideas of Pro- gressivism, which strove for economic, social, and political justice. Though most Progressives, who were white upper-middle-class individuals, did not agree on the specific solutions to the problems facing society, all agreed that more government involvement was necessary to address the ills of the nation. In Arkansas in particular, the Progressives' efforts were continually challenged by the adverse feelings toward the federal government since the Reconstruc- tion era.37 Regardless of the challenges, the reform spirit informed the social consciousness of people like Terry for the next fifty years. A trio of Arkansas governors, Jeff Davis (1901-1907), George Donaghey (1909-1913), and Charles Brough (1917-1921), attempted to implement Progressive measures in the state.38

As a result, new legislation increased the government's participation in the lives of Arkansas citizens like never before.39 Terry quickly and unexpectedly became involved with Progressive legislation concerning the juvenile justice system in Arkansas. In 1911, the Woman's Christian Temperance Union appointed her and other members to investigate the juvenile court system in Arkansas and to visit with Judge Joseph Asher, who was in charge of appointing a probation officer and a juvenile court board. The team was to report back to the organization on the status of his endeavors. After visiting with Judge Asher, Terry was surprised to learn that he had appointed her as chair of the juvenile court board in Arkan- sas.40 She was unsure of her ability to lead or to serve on the committee because she knew virtually nothing about the juvenile court system. Asher responded

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Adolphine Fletcher Terry 163

that "he knew nothing about it either, since it was a new idea."41 With little direction Terry set about creating a juvenile court system to meet the growing demands of the state.

Regardless of her lack of qualifications for the job, Terry attempted to do the best for the underserved children of Arkansas. The first major obstacle for the juvenile board centered on housing. At first, members of the board brought the wards to their private homes; later, after a failed attempt at renting a house primarily for them, the temporary use of a building in downtown Little Rock was secured.42 Passed in 1905, Act 199 decreed that the state reform school was to be managed by the state board of penitentiary commissioners with the goals of rehabilitation and providing a useful trade or skill for its inmates, in a segre- gated setting.43 In reality, the school did not focus on rehabilitation, but rather used the children for cheap labor; only three months of the year were spent on education, and for the remaining months the children were used as laborers at the state reform school.44 Terry's tenure on the board witnessed a significant change in this agenda. The Boys and Girls Industrial School of the State of Arkansas was created in 1917 to replace the penal-type state reformatory estab- lished in 1905.45 The Girls Industrial School was relocated to Alexander, Arkan- sas, and by 1925, it housed seventy-five girls.46 Terry was proud of her work with the juvenile court board, but eventually became disillusioned with the lack of qualified personnel, inadequate authority, and cronyism of the patronage sys- tem.47 As she explained in her memoir: "a man was elected Governor who never should have been, and he regarded the school as one of the places to which he could appoint people who had done him favors and who need[ed] jobs."48

She never shied away from the ugly side of the culture, noting, "I am always amused when people try to shield me from knowledge of the sins of the world, because I learned everything about human beings years and years ago. During the nineteen years I was chairman of the juvenile court board I was exposed to everything from robbery to incest, and if I could have been shocked, I would have been shocked long ago."49

During her tenure on the juvenile court board, Terry gave birth to two daughters, Mary in 1914 and Sally in 1916. Mary was born with a rare disorder that broadened Terry's compassion for the human condition. "Osteogenesis Im- perfect" caused Mary's bones to break easily, and she required special medical attention her entire life.50 A decade of trips to Chicago for medical treatments, summers on the East Coast, and winter visits to the desert Southwest to aid Mary's health taxed the endurance of mother and daughter alike. Terry de- picted her daughter's struggles in the book Courage!, which she wrote under the pseudonym Mary Lindsey.51 Terry had formerly viewed the birth of a mentally

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1 6 4 D I A N N A O W E N S F R A L E Y

or physically handicapped child as "the worst grief which could befall a human soul."52 Her experiences with Mary informed her view on how handicapped in- dividuals were denigrated by both society and government. In her unpublished autobiography she told the story of a young disabled boy on the train going to see specialists for the first time after his father's coworkers had taken up a collection: "If I had to look at my child every day and know we didn't have the money to help him, I would have become an anarchist."53 Raising Mary seems to have increased Terry's confidence in her own moral authority. More than ever, doing what she felt was right and necessary regardless of what others thought was paramount: "However difficult, I have always preferred to meet a circum- stance actively, rather than passively wait for something, whether good or bad, to transpire."54 While her views on race had changed at Vassar, her experience with Mary gave her the confidence to address the wrongs of society in any given situation.

In 1916, as America edged toward joining the Allied war effort, anti-German sentiment swept the country. Witnessing firsthand the discrimination toward people of German descent in Little Rock, Terry wrote, "My cousins, the Hotzes . . . were under suspicion even though Clara was running the work room for the Red Cross and was engaged to an Army officer. They had all been born in this country and had never thought of being anything other than loyal citizens."55

The daughter of proud German immigrants, Terry took a rather ominous view of the war and wrote, "Murder had suddenly become not only respectable, but heroic and glamorous. I walked around as if I were in a complete daze. I felt as my world had washed away and I had nothing to stand on."56 Terry's state of mind at this time was remarkably similar to the deflated emotions she would experience in the wake of the first year of school desegregation in Little Rock. Both occasions seem to have caught her by surprise, as if she underestimated the power of societal prejudice to override individual reason. Despite the simi- larities between the discrimination faced by people of German descent during the war and the discrimination that people of African descent faced at all times, Terry gave no indication that one experience informed the other. However, as the child of German immigrants, the anti-German hysteria of the war years likely gave her a glimpse of what life was like for African Americans in the South. In a personal way, the ethnocentric discrimination of World War I con- nected Terry to a better understanding of the long-standing segregation in the South.57

While the war raged in Europe, American women were fighting for equal voting rights, and Terry had some limited participation in this struggle as well. Terry's younger sister Mary Fletcher was more involved with the women's suf-

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Adolphine Fletcher Terry 165

frage movement than Terry was. Mary Fletcher had created in 1911 the Political Equality League of Little Rock, which replaced the defunct Equal Suffrage League (formed in 1888). The Political Equality League is considered the real

beginning of the statewide suffragist movement in Arkansas.58 Though the orga- nization was very active, the legislature did not pass any bills set forth by the Political Equality League. Undeterred, Terry lent a hand at rallies and marches

and encouraged other women to join the movement in Little Rock. Reflecting on her time in the movement, Terry stated: "We acted like complete hellions to get the vote. We of the lady' class had always been on a pedestal... beauteous

womanhood, all that kind of junk. The men had looked up to us, idolized us. They had changed their attitude when we tied ourselves to telephone poles and did the unseemly and unladylike things to attract attention to our cause. The

Negroes and the college students are using the same tactics today. It's funny but you just have to do it. 'Ladies' and 'Uncle Toms' don't get anywhere."59 After the passage of the Nineteenth Amendment in 1920, Terry served as a founding

board member of the League of Women Voters in Pulaski County.60 "To me, the vote represents more than just saying how a person feels about an issue or

a candidate, it represents human dignity and the fact that a citizen can express

his or her opinion on any subject without fear of reprisal. That, I think, is what real human dignity consists of."61

While working as part of the suffragist movement, Terry had another forma-

tive experience that opened her eyes to the existence of, and possible alliance with, elite black women who shared her Progressive outlook. The unique con- nection occurred during her service on an advisory committee to establish an

African American branch of the Young Women's Christian Association (Y WCA)

in Little Rock, a crusade that began in March 1918 and had the support of the African American community. The funds necessary to begin construction were

available by 1919.62 Terry understood perfectly well that she was defying societal expectations of southern white women, yet she maintained her support. She knew that "the members of the board of directors of the white YWCA wouldn't

touch the whole project with a forty foot pole," yet Terry acknowledged that some white participation was necessary for the project to be successful.63 Ex- plaining how her time on the advisory board changed her, Terry stated:

The women who served as director of the club were all well educated and leaders of their community, and they had plenty of ideas of their own. We advisers got more

out of the experience than we gave, because we made friends among these black women who since the Civil War had never been thought of as possible friend[s]

of ours, and who had lived in a world apart. They were the wives of professional

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men, and they provided us with an education. We, the daughters of Confederate veterans, who had heard a great deal about the white side of [the] war, now learned of the suffering of the black population, before, during and after the war, and of the lacks from which they still suffered.64

Despite her support for this project, it would be many years before Terry accepted equality for all people. Terry did not protest in the streets or openly defy the laws of segregation, but her involvement with the YWCA challenged her ideas about racial equality. As she worked side by side with African American women, with whom she developed lasting friendships, she began to realize that true equality was not the paternalistic relationship of Progressive reform.65 The Phyllis Wheatley YWCA opened to the public in 1921, the only recreational facil- ity for black people in Little Rock.66 Although Terry's involvement was limited, she took away from her experience the fact that the African Americans in Little Rock desired racial equality. In reaching across established racial boundaries, Terry discovered that the compartmentalization endemic to the Jim Crow South was even more artificial than she had realized.

By the early 19208, Terry was a married woman and a mother of three, soon to be five, children (she would give birth to her fourth child and adopt another during the 19205). Like the majority of women in Arkansas at the time, she wor- ried more about her home and family than anything else. Unlike the majority of women in Arkansas, her class and status afforded her the time and opportunity to continue her social reform endeavors.67 She continued her work with the YWCA advisory board, the League of Women Voters, and the juvenile court board, while raising her young family.

In the 19308 Terry embraced the emerging political career of her husband. David Terry served four terms in the House of Representatives as a Democrat from 1934 until 1943.68 Terry committed herself to her husband's campaigns and cultivated the family image by making "as many friends as possible."69 To help further his political career, Terry joined many clubs and organizations and sat on as many boards as possible. Like many political wives, Terry thought the sac- rifice was worth it, but she did not always feel comfortable with her role: "many times in my life I have felt as if I were teetering on the brink of a volcano."70 Nor did she always think highly of her colleagues: "These women's organizations are strange things—clothes seem to be the main consideration."71 Most members talked, but few acted, and Terry was first and foremost about action.

During this time Terry advocated for perhaps her most well-known cause out- side of the Central High desegregation crisis: improving the public library sys- tem in Arkansas. Terry apprehensively accepted an appointment as chair of the

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Adolphine Fletcher Terry 167

Committee on Americanism of the local American Legion Auxiliary which at the time promoted "community involvement and advancement."72 Given Terry's experiences with anti-German prejudice during World War I, she was under- standably ambivalent about promoting "Americanism": "The word was not popular with me and I had no idea what would be involved, but I accepted and went to my first meeting with many misgivings. I opened the pamphlet which was given to me and found that our first and chief duty was to get books into the hands of our young people; in other words, to establish libraries. That was the thing I most wanted to do. Reading is only a tool; to teach children to read and not give them something worthwhile to read is a waste of time and money."73

Terry elaborated in her diary in 1934, "I casually accepted a position last sum- mer as chairman of the Americanism Committee of the local Auxiliary—again the wife of a politician, for I had never been to a meeting of the organization— and found that the committee had been asked by the national [organization] to put on a library program. Nothing could have pleased me more."74

According to Terry, the Depression had caused the state to shutter all but three libraries. She also reported that the American Legion considered Arkan- sas "the most bookless state in the union."75 Terry spearheaded a separate library committee that secured Federal Emergency Relief Administration funds to re- establish the free library system in Arkansas. Cities with populations of more than five thousand were eligible for a library, and a state librarian was also ap- pointed.76 Now, Terry needed books. She approached her friends, distinguished members of the community, and the American Legion, all of which donated books. She recalled, "The whole thing was a glorious success."77 During the summer of 1934, Terry's committee helped to open several state libraries and used all available funds in support of the state library system.78 Terry served as a trustee of the Little Rock Public Library system until her retirement in 1966, and as a tribute to her hard work and dedication to the library system in Arkansas a branch in Little Rock was given her name.79

While her husband conducted business in Washington, D.C., Terry remained in Arkansas raising their children and securing federal funds for several state projects. Some of her efforts included cofounding the Pulaski County Tubercu- losis Association, the Little Rock Housing Authority, and the Arkansas Federa- tion of Women's Clubs; she continued to work on the juvenile court board and for the library system in Little Rock.80 In 1939, she and nine others founded the Little Rock Housing Association "with funds from the 1937 United States Hous- ing Act in an effort to combat slum housing in Little Rock."81 Through Terry's persuasive lobbying and the eventual passage of state legislation, "the City of Little Rock incorporated the Little Rock Housing Authority in 1940."82 At the

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1 6 8 D I A N N A O W E N S F R A L E Y

same time, Terry became a founding board member for the Urban League of Greater Little Rock, which formed in 1937 and consisted of both black and white citizens who were dedicated to improving the circumstances of local African Americans.

By the early 19408, the United States was again at war. With her husband in Congress and both sons serving in the military, Terry continued dealing with issues on the homefront and working for social reforms. Using her network of upper-class women, Terry organized a women's auxiliary committee of the Urban League. Having served with her on numerous committees and cam- paigns, white women of her social class readily accepted her call to arms for a new cause. The committee encouraged voters to approve programs in "slum clearance and low-rent housing [and] . . . a solution to health problems among the poor."83 Not all citizens of Little Rock were happy with this plan, especially those whose homes would be relocated.84 As with most urban renewal projects, these early efforts did not always benefit those in need.

Terry also worked with the Arkansas Federation of Women's Clubs on im- proving the arts throughout the state by promoting artistic endeavors.85 When Terry was appointed the chair of fine arts, she attended "a number of artistic productions[,] an opera, an art show, a symphony and many others."86 Even though they were all quite good, attendance was low, so she planned to incor- porate several artistic events into a "festival of the arts" to promote attendance and continuity.87 As a member of the United Nations branch of the Arkansas Federation of Women's Clubs, Terry organized a trip to New York City and a meeting with First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, as well as a tour of Washington, D.C. She continued to focus on historic preservation and the arts for the re- mainder of her life, even donating her family home, which was built by Albert Pike, a famous Confederate officer and newspaper owner, to the Arkansas Arts Center for use as a decorative arts museum.88

One of Terry's greatest accomplishments involved her work with the library board of trustees to integrate the public libraries of Little Rock during the 19508. Although the library board had decided to partially integrate the library system in 1951, according to Terry the board members were not unanimous in their desire to change: "When we decided that we would open the library up to all the adults of town, black, white and red, one of the members of the Board who didn't want to do it, suggested that we send notices around to the black churches telling people that they should behave like ladies and gentlemen in the library. I asked him who on earth he thought was coming and what the people were com- ing for. I felt they were coming to read and take out books, and not to disturb anything or anybody."89 The libraries were quietly integrated, with no major

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Adolphine Fletcher Terry 169

incidents reported. Terry was optimistic that perhaps this was a sign that Little Rock had become a more open society. Hindsight painfully exposed that such a low-profile strategy might have been more prudent during the Central High School desegregation crisis:

We opened the library before there was any real attempt at integration in the com-

munity, and we did it very gradually We said nothing in print about what we were

doing, but just did it. I had discovered that if you want to do anything that is

different, the people who are most vocal are those who object. You can beat them

out of it if you say nothing in public, but just go ahead.... As it was, there were

no major objections to opening the library, but if we had put a notice in the paper,

there doubtless would have been. We did it quietly and I can't remember getting

any letters or phone calls objecting to what we had done.90

Prior to the desegregation crisis of 1957, both Little Rock and the state of Ar- kansas were on a gradual path to integration. Several schools in Arkansas had successfully desegregated after the 1954 Brown v. Board of Education decision with only minor incidents.91 In fact, in the South, only Texas had more deseg- regated schools than Arkansas by 1957.92 When the Little Rock school board adopted the Blossom Plan, it met the minimal compliance with gradual integra- tion. Supporters quietly believed that their optimism about more change was warranted.93 Terry later realized that she had been too hopeful in her assess- ment: "I had looked back on the year before [1956] and been greatly encouraged by the cultural and economic progress of Little Rock. The junior college had become Little Rock University and a new symphony orchestra had come into being with the backing of the Chamber of Commerce. The Museum of Natural History and the Fine Arts Museum had both acquired experienced curators, and the Junior League had decided to devote its energies to cultural a f f a i r s . . . . we thought that a new day for our city and state had arrived and nothing could stop our progress."94

The Blossom Plan seemed like just another progressive step, albeit a small one, when it called for nine African American students to integrate Central High School in 195/.95 In an effort to stop school integration, Governor Orval Faubus, under the guise of protecting the nine students, ordered the Arkan- sas National Guard to keep them from entering the building.96 Daisy Bates, an NAACP leader, had organized the students who were integrating the school and was in constant contact with the national NAACP office in New York regarding the growing crisis.97 After reading a U.S. News and World Report article that stated that one of the nine students had been expelled for breaking the pledge that she would not "retaliate," regardless of the actions of the white students

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1 7 0 D I A N N A O W E N S F R A L E Y

toward her, Terry "decided to come out of my lethargy and see if I could help in the situation."98 She spoke with teachers who said that discipline had completely broken down and that "the Negro students were persecuted daily and when they complained the principal remonstrated with the white boys and girls and nothing happened."99 Terry also interviewed Daisy Bates, who "thought the high school authorities should have stronger discipline."100

As the crisis unfolded, Terry continued to seek out people who could assist her; Herbert Thomas was one such individual. Thomas was the founder and president of First Pyramid Life Insurance Company and president of the Uni- versity of Arkansas board of trustees. Thomas had led the integration of both the medical and law schools at the university ten years earlier with little fan- fare.101 Terry wanted Bates to meet Thomas, who had devised a plan to withdraw the African American students in 1957-1958, but then create an interracial com- mission to develop a blueprint for integration. Terry was optimistic about the meeting and felt that "if the two of them sat down together without any other desire than to work out a solution to the problem they would probably come up with an acceptable answer."102 However, Bates and the NAACP did not accept Thomas's plan because it did not immediately follow the federal law, and they felt that segregationists should not determine how the law was implemented for African Americans.103

Terry had voted for Faubus in the two previous elections because of his mod- erate stance on segregation and had met with his wife, Alta Faubus, socially on several occasions. It was through this connection that Terry tried to reach a compromise on the crisis. Terry suggested to Mrs. Faubus that "since the prob- lems of integration would ultimately be solved by adults, it would be a good idea if the Governor expressed himself in favor of law and order in the schools. She agreed with me and promised to discuss the matter with him, but nothing seemed to come of it."104 Terry's pleas fell on deaf ears. Faubus continued his de- fiance of federal authority by closing the public high schools to prevent further desegregation. His plan was to put the matter to a public vote in late September before the November 1958 election. In response to the governor's plan, and as a result of a letter between two friends and a phone call with another, a group of upper-class white women in the city organized the Women's Emergency Committee to Open Our Schools in September 1958. They were confident in their abilities to bring positive solutions to the growing educational problems in Little Rock. Modeling their group after the Association of Southern Women for the Prevention of Lynching, this was the first white organization to oppose segregation in Little Rock.105 The goal of the WEC was to "get the four free public high schools re-opened; to get students back in their classes; to retain our staff

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Adolphine Fletcher Terry 171

of good teachers; and to regain full accreditation by the North Central Associa- tion."106 In her memoir, WEC cofounder Vivion Brewer described the feelings of the women at the first meeting: "Believing without reservation that all people are far more alike than they are different and that hatred is insanity we pooled our anxieties. We agreed that it was useless to continue our stunned silence of the past year during which we had waited for the men of affairs to do some- thing."107 To achieve these goals Terry felt that the organization needed to appeal to the greatest number of people in Little Rock. To this end she, Brewer, and Powell decided that they must appeal to the white voter by making their organi- zation "whites only" and that they would not take a stand for either segregation or integration, but rather for education. The WEC was "dedicated to the prin- ciple of free and public school education, to law and order and stand [s] neither for integration nor for segregation, but for education."108

Even with these concessions, not everyone who attended the first meetings of the WEC was eager to embrace the ideas it set forth. Several women left meet- ings or asked that their names be removed from the roster. Though Terry was no stranger to biracial activities and organizations, the WEC had chosen not to include African Americans. According to historian Grif Stockley, "A lily-white organization was tactically necessary, though it did not sit well with blacks who were initially sympathetic" to its cause.109 Daisy Bates later recalled that Terry asked her not to attend the meetings.110 Upset by this apparent snub, Bates wrote an article against the WEC, but did not publish it out of respect for Terry; how- ever, she still felt that the "[WEC] were working/or the Negros, not with them."111

Faubus set the election to decide the integration question for September 27, 1958. The time constraint gave the WEC little time to organize, but the women quickly mobilized and began phoning eligible voters, organizing to drive people to the polls, lobbying members of the state legislature, and even hosting two televised discussion panels. Faubus argued that private schools were the only answer to the lower educational standards and violence that would occur if integration passed.112 One member of the television broadcast panel argued against these ideas and tried to convince voters that they were not voting for immediate integration, but instead for the gradual introduction of the Blos- som Plan, regardless of the ballot language.113 Terry stated, "If people had asked any of us if we were for integration, we would probably have told them no, we hadn't come to that point yet. But we were for integrating the schools because there had never been enough money in Arkansas for one good school system, let alone two."114 Again, Terry knew she would have to work within the white southern political system to obtain her ultimate goal of integration. By telling whites that the WEC was not supporting integration for integration s sake, but

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for the betterment of the overall school system, she could placate radicals and sway moderates toward the desired reform.

Even though the WEC made a concerted and valiant effort, its strategies did not work. The majority of the voters opposed integration, and the Little Rock schools remained closed for the remainder of the 1958-1959 school year. Though all Little Rock public school students were displaced, approximately six hundred seniors, both black and white, wondered how they would obtain a high school diploma without a school system. Most white students found alternative modes of education: attending private schools, moving in with rela- tives in other parts of the state, or starting college without a diploma. African American students in Little Rock did not fare as well, and most went a year without any education.115 Upset by the vote, Terry argued, "All the disturbances at Central High, I felt, had been created by Faubus solely to re-elect himself, and he had succeeded probably beyond his own wildest dreams. I felt he was doing exactly what he would do if he were a communist: fomenting dissension between groups of people and causing intolerance to breed more intolerance. He was working in one of the poorest and most ignorant states, and his influ- ence was radiating in all directions."116 In a final attempt to keep the schools open, she appealed directly to the governor prior to the election in November 1958: "I believe you can be a second Lincoln, but you are now on the wrong path. Lincoln was looking towards the future; you are still looking in the past. The South has no chance of ultimately winning in this matter of segregation. With the election of all the progressive new Democrats there is less chance now than ever before. Whether we like it or not, Segregation around the world is as dead in 1958 as slavery was in 1858. The South cannot afford to fight for lost causes."117

Faubus was reelected in November, carrying all seventy-five counties.118

Terry, who did not hold an office and was mostly an advisor to the members of the WEC, and other members were harassed for their role in the integration crisis. After a photo of her appeared in Time magazine, she received several hostile letters and phone calls. One of her relatives was fired from his job and eventually took his own life because he could not find another. Ministers who worked with her and the WEC lost their congregations and were forced to leave the city.119 Even though the ballot measure was defeated, the WEC was not de- terred from its mission and continued to work at the grassroots level to reopen the schools. Terry and Brewer were both independently wealthy and were not affected by the whims of the populace concerning money or business, but many local businesspeople were. They soon found that segregation was affecting their bottom line, and their traditional role in politics no longer worked. The fact that they did not promote any radical change to the political process but supported

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Adolphine Fletcher Terry 173

the status quo only allowed the standoff over school integration to last longer

than necessary Personally most supported segregation, but in time they finally

realized just how much it was costing them to keep segregation in place.120 In

May 1959, businesspeople and other civic community members eventually took

a stand against the segregationists and formed a group, Stop This Outrageous

Purge, in response to the firing of a large number of school employees. With

the backing of the WEC, a recall election of the school board members was

held within a month: three moderate board members were retained and three

additional moderate members were elected. The new board had a moderate

majority and set a goal of gradual desegregation.121

Having met its goal, the WEC disbanded in November 1963, and the

eighty-one-year-old Terry successfully passed the torch of social activism to a

new generation of women. Terry retired from the spotlight after the WEC dis-

banded, but seven years later, in 1970, she again tried to influence the leaders of

Little Rock regarding the ongoing issue of desegregation of the public schools.

She recalled, "I cannot bear to see my town ruined by the stupidity (or is it the

cupidity?) and indifference of its citizens."122 The indifference on the part of both

political leaders and the public by 1970 had allowed members of the white elite

to create a distinct racial line in the Little Rock school system that fell within

the parameters of federal law. By 2003, private schools had become the norm

for wealthy white students and public schools were predominantly populated by

African American students, not unlike other areas of the South.123

Following a series of strokes, Terry died on July 25, 1976, at the age of

ninety-three. She is buried at Mount Holly Cemetery in Little Rock.124 Adol-

phine Terry is most well known for her involvement in the Little Rock integra-

tion crisis in the late 19508, but she had served her community long before the

civil rights era. Her lifelong social activism in Arkansas and her desire to help

those in need are her lasting legacy. She began her social activism as a Progres-

sive with a paternalistic obligation to help others, but as she worked alongside

the marginalized populations of her community, her attitudes expanded and

evolved. "I see no reason to pay any more attention to the color of a person s

skin than to the color of his eyes. It's so much easier to speak to a person merely

as another person than to put on a different voice and different face for someone

of another color," she wrote.125 Terry's ability to motivate and inspire people to

improve their environment regardless of societal expectations made her a piv-

otal leader during some of the most trying times in Arkansas history. She played

a significant role in the social history of Arkansas during the first half of the

twentieth century, and her personal story reflects the role of prominent white

southern women in the broader civil rights movement throughout the South.

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174 D I A N N A O W E N S F R A L E Y

NOTES

1. Vivion Lennon Brewer, The Embattled Ladies of Little Rock: The Struggle to Save Public Edu- cation at Central High, 1958-1963 (Fort Bragg, Calif.: Lost Coast Press, 1999), xxii, 6-9; Elizabeth Jacoway, Turn Away Thy Son (New York: Free Press, 2007), 268; Sara Alderman Murphy, Breaking the Silence: Little Rock's Women's Emergency Committee to Open Our Schools, 1958-1963 (Fayette- ville: University of Arkansas Press, 1997), 79.

2. Sondra Gordy, Finding the Lost Year: What Happened When Little Rock Closed Its Public Schools (Fayetteville: University of Arkansas Press, 2009), xii.

3. Brewer, Embattled Ladies, 5. 4. Ibid., 290. 5. Ibid., 7. This is a recollection of the letter from Powell to Terry. 6. Adolphine Fletcher Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," unpublished manuscript, 237, Fletcher-Terry

Papers, University of Arkansas at Little Rock Archives, Arkansas Studies Institute, Little Rock ; Brewer, Embattled Ladies, 8.

7. Stephanie Bayless, Obliged to Help: Adolphine Fletcher Terry and the Progressive South (Little Rock, Ark.: Butler Center Books, 2011), 15.

8. Ibid., 17-18. Adolphine Fletcher Terry's father, John Gould Fletcher, was a wealthy business- man in Little Rock. The Fletcher family were long-time residents of Saline County, Arkansas. Colo- nel Fletcher, as he was called, was considered an honest and hardworking individual, and he and his partner, Peter Hotze, became prominent cotton brokers.

9. Brewer, Embattled Ladies, 290. 10. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 38-39; Bayless, Obliged to Help, 19. 11. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 57; Bayless, Obliged to Help, 23-24. 12. Adolphine Fletcher Terry, Charlotte Stephens: Little Rock's First Black Teacher (Little Rock:

Academic Press of Arkansas, 1973); and Terry, Cordelia: A Member of the Household (Fort Smith, Ark.: South and West, 1967).

13. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 57. "No one from here [Little Rock] had been to Vassar when I was a little girl, but my mother had read an article about the college when it opened, and she felt that was the place for me to go, and Harvard was the place for my brother [John Gould Fletcher] to go, and by heavens, we went."

14. Ibid., 60-61. 15. Joan Marie Johnson, Southern Women at the Seven Sister Colleges: Feminist Values and Social

Activism, 1875-1915 (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2008), 108. 16. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 59. 17. Ibid., 72. 18. Ibid., 95-96. 19. Gail S. Murray, ed., Throwing Off the Cloak of Privilege: White Southern Women Activists in

the Civil Rights Era (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2008). Marcia G. Synnott's essay in that volume, "Crusaders and Clubwomen: Alice Norwood Spearman Wright and Her Women's Network," gives good insight into the role of women's clubs in the South during the civil rights era. See also Francis Mitchell Ross, "The New Woman as Club Woman and Social Activist in Turn of the Century Arkansas," Arkansas Historical Quarterly 50 (Winter 1991): 317-51; Shannon Frystak, "Rosa Keller," in Know Louisiana, ed. David Johnson (New Orleans: Louisiana Endowment for the Humanities, 2010-), http://www.knowla.org/entry/846.

20. Arkansas Gazette, July 26,1976.

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Adolphine Fletcher Terry 175

21. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 81. 22. Stephen Weeks, History of Public Education in Arkansas (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government

Printing Office, 1912), 78. 23. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 82. 24. Ibid. 25. Ibid., 83. 26. Ibid. 27. George B. Cook, Syllabus of the Twentieth Biennial Report of the Department of Public Instruc-

tion, 1907-1908 (Little Rock, Ark.: N.p., 1908), 4. 28. Ibid., 7-14. 29. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 84. 30. Ibid., 96. According to Terry, "During his fourth year at Harvard, as the time approached to

graduate, John decided that he really owed nothing to the school. My mother had dominated his education decisions and had picked out his course of study. For this reason, he didn't take the courses that would have meant the most to him, and he came to feel that his real education came from the libraries, art galleries and concert halls of Boston, for that is where he spent most of his time. My mother had a fit about it, but he left Harvard and bought himself a ticket to Europe where he trav- eled and ultimately married for the first time. My mother never lived to see his success as a poet."

31. David Terry and Adolphine Fletcher marriage license, Fletcher-Terry Papers, University of Arkansas at Little Rock Archives, Arkansas Studies Institute, Little Rock. See also Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 94.

32. Mary Louise Terry was born in 1901. She attended Vassar College after high school just like Terry. Letter from David D. Terry to William L. Terry, March 30,1915, Fletcher-Terry Papers, Uni- versity of Arkansas at Little Rock Archives, Arkansas Studies Institute, Little Rock.

33. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 101. 34. Ibid., 102. 35. Ibid. 36. Ibid., 118. 37. Bayless, Obliged to Help, 48. 38. C. Fred Williams, S. Charles Bolton, Carl Moneyhon, and LeRoy T. Williams, eds., A Docu-

mentary History of Arkansas (Fayetteville: University of Arkansas Press, 1984), 161. 39. Michael Dougan, Arkansas Odyssey: The Saga of Arkansas from Prehistoric Times to Present

(Little Rock, Ark.: Rose Publishing, 1994), 331. 40. Ross, "New Woman," 342. 41. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 103. Nationally, juvenile courts were a recent development; the

first was established in 1899 in Illinois. This juvenile court operated under the idea that "children differed from adults" and that they needed to have separate provisions under the law.

42. Bayless, Obliged to Help, 52. 43. Public Acts of Arkansas 199 (1905). 44. Ross, "New Woman," 343. 45. H. P. Hargis, Out of the Woods: The Story of the Arkansas Boys' Industrial School (Pine Bluff,

Ark.: N.p., 1947), 2. 46. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 108. 47. Ibid., 108-10. 48. Ibid., 109. Terry is referring to Tom Jefferson Terral, the governor of Arkansas from 1925

to 1927.

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1/6 D I A N N A O W E N S F R A L E Y

49. Ibid., 109-10. 50. Ibid., 111. 51. Mary Lindsey, Courage! (New York: Dutton, 1938). 52. Ibid., 9, 20. 53. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 117-18. 54. Lindsey, Courage! 92. 55. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 122-23. 56. Ibid., 119-20. 57. John C. Williams, "David Dickson Terry (1881-1963)," in Encyclopedia of Arkansas History and

Culture, http://www.encyclopediaofarkansas.net/encyclopedia/entry-detail.aspx?entryID=466o. 58. Carl H. Moneyhon, Arkansas and the New South, 1874-1929 (Fayetteville: University of Ar-

kansas Press, 1997), 118. 59. Arkansas Gazette, June 22,1969. 60. Ibid. 61. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 133-34. 62. Peggy Harris, "'We Would Be Building': The Beginning of the Phyllis Wheatley Y W C A in

Little Rock," Pulaski County Historical Review 43 (Winter 1995): 72-75. 63. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 130. 64. Ibid., 130-31. 65. Murray, Throwing Off the Cloak of Privilege, 3-4. 66. Harris, "We Would Be Building," 76. 67. Her fourth child, William (Bill) Terry, was born very healthy in 1922; Joseph Terry was

adopted in the early 19205. 68. David D. Terry left Congress after an unsuccessful bid for a seat in the U.S. Senate in 1942. 69. Adolphine Fletcher Terry diary, 1934, Fletcher-Terry Papers, University of Arkansas at Little

Rock Archives, Arkansas Studies Institute, Little Rock (hereafter Terry diary). 70. Ibid., 19. 71. Ibid., 60. 72. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 159; American Legion Auxiliary, http://www.alaforveterans

.org (accessed October 24, 2017). 73. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 159. 74. Terry diary, 5. 75. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 159. 76. Terry diary. 77. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 162. 78. Terry diary. 79. Bayless, Obliged to Help, 99. 80. Peggy Harris, "Adolphine Fletcher Terry," 2, in Encyclopedia of Arkansas History and Culture,

http://www.encyclopediaofarkansas.net/encyclopedia/entry-detail.aspx?entryID=i779. 81. Guide to Little Rock Housing Authority Scrapbooks, i, Archives and Special Collections,

University of Arkansas Library, Little Rock. 82. U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development, "HUD History," http://portal.hud.gov

/hudportal/HUD?src=/about/hud_history; Martha Walters, "Little Rock Urban Renewal," Pulaski County Historical Review 24 (March 1976): 13.

83. Directoryi958-i96o, Arkansas Federation of Women's Clubs Collection, University of Ar- kansas at Little Rock Archives, Arkansas Studies Institute, Little Rock.

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Adolphine Fletcher Terry 177

84. Bayless, Obliged to Help, 106. 85. Convention minutes, April 27, 1955; and Directory, 1954-1955, Arkansas Federation of

Women's Clubs Collection, University of Arkansas at Little Rock Archives, Arkansas Studies In- stitute, Little Rock.

86. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 226. 87. Ibid. 88. Harris, "Adolphine Fletcher Terry," i. 89. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 228. 90. Ibid., 228-29. 91. David Appleby, dir., Hoxie: The First Stand, California Newsreel, 2003. 92. David Chappell, Inside Agitators: White Southerners in the Civil Rights Movement (Baltimore,

Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1994), 101. 93. John A. Kirk, Redefining the Color Line: Black Activism in Little Rock, Arkansas, 1940-1970

(Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2002), 25-35. 94. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 230. 95. Todd E. Lewis, "Virgil Tracy Blossom," i, in Encyclopedia of Arkansas History and Culture,

http://www.encyclopediaofarkansas.net/encyclopedia/entry-detail.aspx?entryID=56io. The Blos- som Plan was created by Little Rock (Pulaski County) superintendent of schools Virgil Tracy Blos- som in answer to the Brown v. Board of Education Supreme Court decision. His plan was for a gradual integration of the school system. At first, he wanted to integrate the elementary schools starting with six-year-olds, but outrage from parents that this was too young and fear that students would not learn proper social norms led him to change his plan and integrate at the high school level. His original plan was to integrate four high schools in Little Rock, including Central High School. Voting on a more rigid plan, the school board decided to only integrate Central High and only with nine African American students (down from the original two hundred eligible students).

96. Kirk, Redefining the Color Line, 25-35. 97. Grif Stockley, Daisy Bates: Civil Rights Crusader from Arkansas (Jackson: University Press of

Mississippi, 2005), 148-59. 98. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 232. 99. Ibid. 100. Ibid. 101. Murphy, Breaking the Silence, 55. 102. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 233-34. 103. Bayless, Obliged to Help, 118-19. 104. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 232. 105. Murphy, Breaking the Silence, 17-20; Bayless, Obliged to Help, 122. 106. Undated flyer, "Policy and Purpose," Women's Emergency Committee Papers, Arkansas

History Commission, Little Rock; Bayless, Obliged to Help, 122. 107. Brewer, Embattled Ladies, 8-9. 108. "Policy and Purpose"; Bayless, Obliged to Help, 122. 109. Stockley, Daisy Bates, 185. no. Murphy, Breaking the Silence, 72-73; Bayless, Obliged to Help, 123. in. Brewer, Embattled Ladies, 9-12, 71-72; Murphy Breaking the Silence, 72-73, 75; Stockley,

Daisy Bates, 185. 112. "Governor Tells Plan for Private Schools," Arkansas Gazette, September 19, 1958; Bayless,

Obliged to Help, 124-26.

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113. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 239-40; Brewer, Embattled Ladies, 24-30; Murphy, Bn the Silence, 88-90; Bayless, Obliged to Help, 125-26.

114. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 238. 115. Bayless, Obliged to Help, 127-28. 116. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 236-37. 117. Letter from Adolphine Terry to Orval Faubus, November 12, 1958, Fletcher-Terry Papers,

University of Arkansas at Little Rock Archives, Arkansas Studies Institute, Little Rock; Bayless, Obliged to Help, 119.

118. Bayless, Obliged to Help, 119-20. 119. Terry, "Life Is My Song, Also," 240-43. 120. Henry Alexander, The Little Rock Recall Election (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1960), 4-6;

Chappell, Inside Agitators, no. 121. Alexander, Little Rock Recall Election, 8-11; Brewer, Embattled Ladies, 56-59, 155; Mur-

phy, Breaking the Silence, 172-73, 181-82; Bayless, Obliged to Help, 130-31; Brent E. Riffel, "Stop This Outrageous Purge (STOP)," i, in Encyclopedia of Arkansas History and Culture, http://www .encyclopediaofarkansas.net/encyclopedia/entry-detail.aspx?entryID=7i5.

122. Adolphine Fletcher Terry to William H. McLean, March 9, 1970, ser. i, box 2, file 6, Fletcher-Terry Papers, University of Arkansas at Little Rock Archives, Arkansas Studies Institute, Little Rock; Arkansas Gazette, March n, 1970; Ben F. Johnson III, "After 1957: Resisting Integration in Little Rock," Arkansas Historical Quarterly 66, no. 2 (Summer 2007): 258-83.

123. In 2003, Little Rock was in the top ten of metropolitan areas with a large percentage of white private school enrollees. For example, only i black student (of 102 graduates) graduated from the private Pulaski Academy in 2003, and only 43 of the 283 graduates at Hall High School (a public school) were white. Johnson, "After 1957," 281; Ben F. Johnson III, Arkansas in Modern America, 1930-1999 (Fayetteville: University of Arkansas Press, 2002).

124. Harris, "Adolphine Fletcher Terry," 3. 125. Arkansas Gazette, July 26,1976.

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