47 pages • 1 hour read
Kristen GreenA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
This chapter puts the school fight in Prince Edward County in the context of the larger civil rights movement nationwide. First, Green explains what happened throughout the South in the wake of the 1954 Brown decision. On President Eisenhower’s instructions, the nation’s capital began integrating schools almost immediately. Clinton High School in Tennessee was the first Southern high school to integrate—under a court order in 1956—but the move was accompanied by violence. That same year, New Orleans began integrating its schools, and first-grader Ruby Bridges became an iconic symbol of integration when she was painted by Norman Rockwell walking to school flanked by federal marshals. Desegregation happened very slowly in the South; as Green writes, by early 1961 “only 6 percent of black children across the country were attending integrated schools” (165).
Meanwhile, the larger civil rights movement was beginning to flower. The Montgomery Bus Boycott in Alabama, sparked by Rosa Parks in 1955, integrated that city’s bus system. A few years later, sit-ins became a favored tactic to desegregate restaurants and lunch counters. The Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) was formed in 1960, after a visit by Martin Luther King Jr. to Shaw University in Raleigh, North Carolina.
One of the SNCC founders was J. Samuel Williams, a Farmville native who had participated in the student strike at Moton High School in 1951 and was studying to become a minister at Shaw. He was eager to bring the activism of sit-ins and demonstrations back to Farmville. When he graduated in 1962, he returned to Prince Edward County, serving as a church minister and leading voter registration drives. In 1963, Williams and another young preacher named Goodwin Douglas appealed to Reverend Griffin to let them begin demonstrating. Griffin, now head of the state NAACP, agreed to begin a program of boycotts and demonstrations in an effort to both reopen the public schools and integrate businesses and facilities. Two SNCC officers came to the county to train young people in nonviolent demonstration methods. That summer, they began sitting at lunch counters that didn’t serve blacks and refusing to leave. (In response, one restaurant served them coffee full of salt and later removed the stools so there was nowhere to sit.) Demonstrators also picketed in front of businesses that refused to hire black employees.
In late July, the protestors spread out through the town to try to integrate white churches. At Farmville Baptist Church, where Green’s grandparents worshipped, demonstrators prayed and sang outside the doors when they were refused entry. Their voices were loud enough to disrupt the service. When the police arrived, the protestors sat down on the front steps and had to be carried to the cars. The police arrested 33 people in all, and Reverend Williams spent close to a week in jail.
Because President Eisenhower showed little interest in school desegregation, black leaders were excited by the prospect of action by the new president, John F. Kennedy, in 1961. But in reality, the US Justice Department had little room to maneuver. By itself, it could not enforce the Brown decision by compelling schools to integrate. At best, it could join a desegregation suit only if invited by a federal judge as a “friend of the court.” When the department tried to join a suit filed by black parents against Prince Edward County as a “party plaintiff,” the motion was denied (179).
Other events around the South soon diverted the new administration’s attention. In the summer of 1961, a group of volunteers called the Freedom Riders rode buses from Washington, DC to the Deep South to test the Supreme Court’s recent ruling on desegregating interstate transit. The Riders were taunted, attacked, and jailed along the way. In 1962, when James Meredith Jr. integrated the University of Mississippi, riots broke out, killing two people and injuring hundreds. The next year, the newly elected Alabama governor, George Wallace, whipped up violence with his vow to uphold segregation forever. In the face of these dramatic events, black leaders in Prince Edward County, Virginia wondered if they had been forgotten.
However, in early 1963, Attorney General Robert Kennedy assigned an aide to work on a solution. William J. vanden Heuvel traveled back and forth between Washington, DC and Farmville, speaking with local leaders and state officials. He eventually found common ground with a temporary resolution: Open a free private school for both black and white students—the Prince Edward County Free Schools—with an integrated staff and board. The governor of Virginia, eager for a solution after the summer’s racially motivated demonstrations in Farmville, announced that the Free Schools would open for the new academic year—only weeks away.
The Free Schools’ superintendent, Neil Sullivan, had three weeks to prepare buildings, buses, and supplies (all of which had sat idle for four years) as well as hire teachers. Half of the new teachers arrived from out of state; they wanted to help the community that had been so much in the news. Still, Sullivan lacked a full faculty with only a week before the start of the semester, so he appealed to Virginia State College for student teachers. Tensions were high. Locals harassed Sullivan, trying to scare him with threatening phone calls and letters. (Federal marshals would eventually be assigned to protect him and the staff.) Also, the day before the Free Schools opened on September 16, 1963, a bomb at a Birmingham, Alabama church killed four young black girls.
Only a handful of white students enrolled at the new school. The first was Dickie Moss, the son of Gordon Moss, a dean at Longwood College who had opposed the school closings from the start. Another white student, William Eanes, enrolled at the age of 20 after four years staying home; he needed just one more year of schooling to graduate.
The Free Schools’ black students included Betty Jean Ward, who had attended school for four years in her grandparents’ county, and Skippy Griffin, son of the black leader Reverend Griffin. Both wanted to be part of the solution in their hometown.
Two months after the Free Schools opened, President Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas. The students signed a scroll with a message of condolence and sent it to his widow. In May 1964, Robert Kennedy visited the school, speaking with some of the students and their parents. Shortly after his visit, the Supreme Court ruled in the case of Griffin v. County School Board of Prince Edward County, ordering the county to reopen the public schools. The justices found that the decision to close the schools and then give vouchers and tuition grants (from public funds) for white students to attend private schools violated the Equal Protection Clause of the 14th Amendment. County public schools reopened that fall, and the Free Schools closed. But the racial makeup of the schools changed little: Of the 1,500 students enrolled in the public schools, only eight were white.
Green closes the chapter by recounting a meeting with an old teacher of hers from Prince Edward Academy at an event to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the attempt by black demonstrators to integrate Farmville’s white churches. The teacher, Peggy Cave, agrees to talk, but when Green later reaches her by phone, Cave is defensive. She says that everyone needs to just put the episode behind them and move on, but some people feel a need to keep harping on it. Green takes this comment personally and asks, “Weren’t you a history teacher? How can it be wrong to discuss history?” (197).
Green writes that “[t]he black children whose educations were halted became known as the Lost Generation” (199) and that the loss is still present fifty years later. To explain, she outlines the life trajectory of two black students from Prince Edward County.
The first is Ricky Brown, who was 10 years old when the Free Schools opened; he had not yet been to school at all and struggled to learn to read. He excelled at sports, but academics left him demoralized. He was recruited by colleges for athletics but felt he would not be able to do the class work, so he did not pursue a post-secondary education. He worked for the Virginia Department of Corrections and later became a police officer. He also worked for a power company and ended his career as a school resource officer, “working day after day in the very school system that had denied him an education and a sense of worth” (201).
The second, Doug Vaughn, had a wife and infant by the time the Prince Edward County schools reopened. He supported his wife as she finished high school, but he did not graduate. They moved to New Jersey where he found work in a factory and earned his GED. Later they moved back to Virginia, where Vaughn worked construction before applying for a job with the Virginia Department of Corrections. He completed the training but just barely because of his low literacy level; his instructor said he would have a hard time getting promoted, implying it was not worth trying. Vaughn went on to prove him wrong, becoming a prison warden in 2005. Three years later, he earned a bachelor’s degree in business. Despite his accomplishments, he still couldn’t help wondering what his life would have been like had he been given education early on.
Lastly, Green briefly describes what happened to Gwen Lancaster: She never moved back to Farmville when she was young, not even for summers, as she had settled into life in Cambridge with her aunt and uncle and their three children; Green writes, “Elsie never got to be her mother again. Not the way she wanted” (204). (As an adult, Gwen did eventually move back to Farmville to be near her mother; she declined to speak with Green for the book).
These three chapters first narrate the history of the school closings in the context of the nationwide civil rights movement and then describe the temporary solution—the Free Schools—instituted for the 1963-1964 school year. Green also takes an in-depth look at the long-term consequences of the four-year gap in public education by profiling individual county residents. These vignettes show in a nutshell the serious, negative effects of the school closings on both individual lives and the county as a whole. Green reminds readers how widespread the damage was, as the county’s black students numbered approximately 1,500.
Green also hints at the lingering effects of the school closings on the community today. When a former Prince Edward Academy teacher claims the whole thing should just be forgotten, Green suggests it’s not that easy; healing past injuries requires effort. The teacher’s refusal to learn from history—ironically, her field was history—causes Green to question how the education she and others received at the Academy might have been negatively influenced by the school closings. She remembers race issues, such as classmates being discouraged from writing book reports on the anti-slavery novel Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and wonders how much the history they learned was distorted.