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University Daily Kansan
Friday, Nov. 15, 1963
Freeing the Free
One-hundred years ago next Tuesday, Abraham Lincoln dedicated a battlefield cemetery at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, and set a standard for American belief which has so gained in stature that now, a century later, it is probably better known and more beloved than even our Declaration of Independence itself. There is good reason for this durability.
Thousands of men had already given their lives in battle, and similar fields would become burial grounds in the weeks and months before the Civil War would end.
THESE MEN were fighting for what they believed was right, not only for the solidarity of the Union, but also for the "proposition that all men are created equal." They were simple, straight-forward beliefs, ennobled that day by an equally honest, heartfelt respect, laced with the confidence that "these dead shall not have died in vain."
Who does not recall the words: "The world will little note nor long remember what we say here," but how many could complete the sentence to state what we were to recall instead: "but it can never forget what they did here."
What they were fighting about was the right of free men to be free.
That year, 1863, marked the application of the Emancipation Proclamation, freeing all the slaves. It was an instance in which we had neither intended nor succeeded in beating the Russians to an opportunity. On the day before Lincoln was inaugurated, the czar's official decree was published setting all serfs free. Nor was Lincoln primarily concerned with the slaves as individuals.
IN ANSWERING Horace Greeley's plea of freedom for the Negroes, Lincoln said, "What I do about slavery, and the colored race, I do because I believe it helps to save the Union."
December of 1865 saw the ratification of the thirteenth amendment to the Constitution, declaring that neither "slavery nor involuntary servitude . . . shall exist within the United States."
At the time, William Lloyd Garrison's Boston Liberator proclaimed editorially that the amendment was the "final crowning and completion of the labors of the American abolitionists." But, in the same breath, the article added: "We are now to concentrate the whole power of American law, justice, conscience, sense of consistency and duty, and bring all to bear on the work of making the freedmen in every sense a free man and citizen."
THE FIRST "Civil Rights" law was passed by Congress in March of 1866, guaranteeing the Negro the rights and corresponding duties of citizenship. President Johnson vetoes this legislation on the basis that it overcompensated for the Negro and discriminated against the whites, but Congress overrode the veto.
Anticipating an inevitable attack on the constitutionality of the Civil Rights Act of 1866, a set of resolutions was formulated which ultimately became the fourteenth amendment to the Constitution. This amendment required the states to apply equal protection of the laws to all citizens, and has been construed to mean that a state cannot make unreasonable distinctions between different persons as to their rights and privileges.
Legally, slavery was abolished. But Abraham Lincoln, assassinated eight months earlier, did not know of it. The editorial might as well have been written yesterday.
For example, the Supreme Court has held that a state cannot arbitrarily deny some of its citizens the right to vote or to serve on juries. Nevertheless, the state remains free to make reasonable classifications. Thus, the Supreme Court has held that, under certain circumstances, a state may grant voting rights to the literate, but deny them to the illiterate.
The fifteenth amendment is more explicit: "The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any state on account of race, color, or previous condition of servitude."
BUT OVER the years it has become apparent that laws aren't what make the final difference. Even as far back as 1835, Alexis de Tocqueville suggested that freedom for the Negro intensified rather than alleviated the prejudice on the part of the whites. Slavery might recede, said Tocque-
ville, "but the prejudice to which it has given birth is immovable."
The U.S. Commission on Civil Rights pointed to a similar situation in noting that "the presence of qualified Negroes in ever increasing numbers often only heightened the unwillingness of many Americans to grant the Negro that equality to which the law said he was entitled, and which the Negro increasingly asserted he deserved."
This tendency was reflected in the recent testimony of Ralph E. Odum, the Assistant Attorney General of Florida, before a Senate committee studying voting rights. Said Odum, "We are fearful that if Congress should enact the bills you are considering here, the practical result will be a regressive trend in Negro registration. The reason for this is obvious: The exertion of outside pressure and coercion by the Central Government in local matters is regarded as a usurpation of authority which stimulates resentment rather than understanding, tolerance, and racial cooperation."
ODUM INDICATED the people of Florida would prefer to let discrimination end in its own good time. Said he, this "may be a longer road than some might like, but we believe it to be the best and most effective road leading to ultimate dignity, mutual respect, and equal opportunity for all our people."
The question has been, of course, whether the Negro will wait much longer. The Reverend Martin Luther King Jr., says no: "We have waited for more than 340 years for our constitutional and God-given rights. The nations of Asia and Africa are moving with jet-like speed toward gaining political independence, but we still creep at horse-and-buggy pace toward gaining a cup of coffee at a lunch counter."
President Kennedy, in a recent address to the United Nations General Assembly, took account of this when he expressed his regret that some U.N. delegates have been discriminated against in this country. He made it clear the situation would not persist if he could help it.
And, speaking to the American people, the President has made it clear he feels the best solution "lies not in what we say today, but in what we do in the days and months ahead to complete the work begun by Abraham Lincoln. 'In giving freedom to the slaves,' President Lincoln said, 'we assure freedom to the free.' In giving rights to others which belong to them, we give rights to ourselves and to our country."
"I ASK YOU to believe me when I tell you," said Kennedy in apologizing, "that this is not the wish of most Americans—that we share your regret and resentment and that we intend to end such practices for all time to come, not only for our visitors but for our own citizens as well."
Obviously, legislation, discussion, and even the most determined efforts of those who have been denied their rights have not been, nor will be enough to span the gap between white and black. Then, is there an answer?
WE MUST LEGISLATE, each of us, in our own minds, the laws of human brotherhood. We must stand up in our own consciences and be counted among those willing to discard the shabby mask of social loafness and come face to face with reality—that human dignity exists as much beneath black skin as white. We must stand behind Arnold Toynbee's reminder that "without freedom, men would no longer be human."
Yes, there is an answer.
And, thinking back over the years to Gettysburg, we must accept with renewed courage the challenge put forth by Abraham Lincoln—one man who took a stand and, without realizing the timelessness of his actions, gave to future generations the charge we remember today:
"It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion; that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain; that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom; and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth."
— Larry Schmidt
Noise, Noise, Noise Kills Concentration
By Paul Holt
(Editor's Note: The following article appeared in the Tulsa World magazine section. It was written by Paul Holt, Caney senior.)
Have you ever tried to find a really quiet place to think? Perhaps not, and perhaps few people do. If you are one of the many people who can work and think with or without noise, I envy you greatly, for I am a member of the other group—my mind will not work without almost perfect quiet. It seems that my noble aspirations of leaving some grand legacy to mankind may be thwarted simply because the world is too noisy for me to think.
But how can I find any quiet? It seems that I can't, and what's worse, the more I try the more conscious I become of sound and the more bothersome it becomes. This goes on until the tiniest sound disrupts my entire mental process, deranged though my processes may be.
PERIODICALLY (about once each week) I decide that I should do some thinking, or as we say around the office, "studying"—that's a technical term that we students use. Whenever I am attacked by this rare urge to "study" ("I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'll just have to use a little technical terminology) I feel that I must take advantage of it, for after all, the urges come so seldom. But, of course, in order to study successfully I must find quiet, and thus one of my periodic quests for silence begins.
This afternoon was typical, so let me relate to you the exciting events that ensued after my decision to take up the search. I was in my room, which is just off the campus, but I immediately decided that it would be impossible to study there. For you must understand that my neighbors are given to loud and frequent feting.
They love to gather themselves about their piano (and their trumpet, trombone, and drums) and strenuously intone much appalling and excruciating racket which is known as popular music.
So, it being necessary to leave my comfortable room, I started out on the following exciting odyssey:
My first stop was the library, where I always feel I can find quiet. I might mention that I was quite out of breath when I arrived for it is unfortunately necessary for a student who lives off the campus to scale the mountain on which the school is situated. There's only one hill in all of Kansas, and they built a university on it.
I WENT INSIDE THE library, and seating myself at one of the tables. began to "read"—another technical term—a required novel: "... He hurried into the corridor: he climbed the dark, narrow stairway, brushing against walls greasy with damp. His feet struck the stone steps heavily, and at each footfall he felt a hot stab through his chest. A door opened. He saw Therese in a dressing jacket, framed in white light. She drew him through the door and whispered..."
"How was entomology class?"
I tore my eyes away from my fascinating novel to see the students who had interrupted my train of thought with their entomology discussion. As soon as they quieted, I was immediately assailed by numerous other sounds; the shuffling of feet between tables, the eternal whisperings of turning pages.
FINALLY I LEFT, leaving the feet, the pages, and the bugs behind me. I then decided to try my luck on the grass under one of the trees around the university's bell tower. But in order to arrive there it is necessary to cross Jayhawk Boulevard. The theory is that a pedestrian is safe in the crosswalks and need not worry about the traffic.
But the rich students in expensive sports cars have different rules. They find great recreation in buzzing within inches of poor pedestrian students with the greatest possible velocity. And I might remind you that nothing is noisier than a sports car.
With my nerves as scattered as the exhaust fumes. I arrived at the bell tower and settled myself beneath the many trees in silence. The peace lasted at least ten minutes before a band of studentnymphs and their dates came gaily skipping through the trees and deposited themselves on the grass a few feet from me. But I held my ground until an uncountable number of government employees arrived with a truck, jack-hammers, numerous shovels, and a tractor in order to plant a tree sapling.
SO I RETURNED here to my room disillusioned and dejected. I sat for some time lamenting my defeat and began planning how to make my living without a diploma. Finally I decided that if I could only write down these unfortunate experiences of mine I might leave some humble legacy to the world after all in the form of a newspaper article. But I'm afraid I may be defeated in that noble effort also.
The typewriter makes too much noise.
Dailij Hänsan
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