The not so silent minority: Louisville's antiwar movement, 1966-1975.

I DON'T HAVE NO PERSONAL QUARREL WITH THOSE VIETCONGS," DECLARED heavyweight boxing champion and Louisville native Muhammad All. The fighter's 1966 statement against the Vietnam War, along with his refusal the next year to be inducted into the United States armed forces, reverberated throughout America. Boxing officials seized his title and banned him until 1970, when a U.S. Supreme Court ruling facilitated his return to the ring. Ali's opposition to the draft placed the well-known athlete in a different kind of limelight, making him a hero who personified the issues of race and class that divided the South and intersected over the Vietnam War. Ali's outlook contrasted sharply with that of Louie B. Nunn, who in 1967 became Kentucky's first Republican governor in twenty years and who embodied America's "silent majority," the "decent, law-abiding, constructive citizens who form the heart and conscience of our nation." Nunn claimed to have given Richard M. Nixon the famous phrase that identified Nixon's political base and helped bring him victory in the 1968 presidential election. Nixon won that close contest, in part, because Americans like Nunn wanted an honorable end to the Vietnam War and the social turmoil the conflict caused at home. (1)

Nunn, a World War II infantry veteran, viewed Vietnam through a martial, patriotic, southern lens. "Once we were in it," he asserted, "we had to finish it with honor." Nunn spoke for most Kentuckians and southerners, including Senators Herman E. Talmadge and Richard B. Russell of Georgia. Like Nunn, Russell stated that "national honor" was the issue and that America could "not shrink from defending it." This sense of honor permeated southern culture. Since the late nineteenth century, when the Lost Cause ideology began to glorify the Civil War record of both Union and Confederate soldiers, thus salving the sting of defeat for the South, fighting for America had been a means for southern men to assert their heritage and manhood. Not surprisingly, a Gallup poll in May 1967 revealed that southerners supported the Vietnam War in greater numbers than other Americans. Southerners accounted for almost one-third of the soldiers who fought in Vietnam and about 28 percent of the American soldiers who died there. At the height of the Vietnam War, four out of five American army generals hailed from the South, including the commander of U.S. forces in Vietnam from 1964 to 1968, South Carolinian William C. Westmoreland. Bardstown, Kentucky, produced one of the war's most famous officers, Lieutenant General Harold G. "Hal" Moore, coauthor of We Were Soldiers Once ... and Young. Kentucky lost more than one thousand young people in the conflict and, along with five other southern states, voted in 1968 for Nixon, whose political strategy of stressing "law and order" and patriotism ended the longtime "Democratic stronghold" in Dixie. (2)

Despite the South's role in providing soldiers, leadership, and political support for the war, little has emerged in the voluminous Vietnam literature dealing specifically with the region's significance in that conflict. The early works on the topic--a handful of literary pieces and oral histories, including James Webb's Fields of Fire (1978), James R. Wilson's Landing Zones (1990), and Owen W. Gilman's Vietnam and the Southern Imagination (1992)--discuss the soldiers' experience and emphasize the southern warrior image, dominated by honor, patriotism, and redemption of the Lost Cause. A classic example is Webb's protagonist in Fields of Fire, aptly named Robert E. Lee Hodges Jr., a Marine lieutenant from Salt Lick, Kentucky, who embodies the Old South traditions. Like Webb, Wilson and Gilman highlight the importance of cultural lineage for southern soldiers, both fictional and real, who proudly took their place in line with their ancestors who fought in wars dating back to the American Revolution. Webb attributes much of the fighting spirit of southerners then and now to their common cultural heritage, claiming that the Scots-Irish defined the attitudes and values of the military, of working-class Americans, and even of their peculiarly populist form of democracy. (3)

Recent works of scholarship, however, such as Joseph A. Fry's Dixie Looks Abroad (2002) and Gregg L. Michel's Struggle for a Better South (2004), modify the image of the exclusively martial South. Their research indicates that a small, distinctly southern antiwar movement developed and was shaped by the region's pro-military and racist heritage. As Michel shows, the Southern Student Organizing Committee (SSOC), a group of college activists, took pride in the region's history and modified Confederate symbols and slogans to fit the organization's stance on civil rights and the Vietnam War. More work on the South's pacifists and their objectives is needed. (4)

Although the commonwealth is often characterized as a border rather than a southern state, Kentuckians in the 1960s and the 1970s often took pride in their southern heritage, and events in the state's then-largest city, Louisville, provide significant insight into the South's responses to the Vietnam War. Kentucky shares the South's rich military tradition and, like many southern states, embraced the Lost Cause view of the Civil War by creating a Confederate Home for veterans and awarding them a pension. Like other southerners, Kentuckians in significant numbers answered the call of arms throughout the twentieth century as well, and in the Vietnam era, many of them welcomed troops being trained at the state's two military installations, Fort Campbell and Fort Knox, where local residents clashed with war opponents residing only twenty-five miles away in Louisville. (5)

Louisville was home not only to Ali, the nation's best-known dissident, but also to social justice proponents, civil rights advocates, and a growing peace community. Anne and Carl Braden, Dr. George Edwards, and Suzy Post, in particular, addressed the issues of race and class that Ali represented, and, through coalitions and networks that linked young radicals and middle-aged activists, they fashioned an antiwar movement in Louisville that adds depth to historians' understanding of the southern response to the Vietnam War. Middle aged, middle class, well educated, and white, like other southern activist leaders such as Tennessee minister Will Campbell, the dissenters in Louisville joined other teachers, clerics, homemakers, and lawyers to become a vocal minority in cities all across the South. In Atlanta, Austin, Chapel Hill, Columbia, El Paso, Houston, Knoxville, Little Rock, Memphis, Nashville, New Orleans, and Tallahassee, they provided counsel and often afforded a degree of protection from the legal system that the younger generation of soldiers and protesters could have received nowhere else. More than sympathizers and boosters, the older men and women often set the agenda for reform as they mentored and sheltered soldiers, draft evaders, peaceniks, and other young people who opposed the American presence in Vietnam. (6)

The Bradens, who were journalists, and Edwards, a seminary professor, were veteran civil rights advocates who saw an immediate and crucial link between that movement and opposition to U.S. involvement in Vietnam. Motivated by conscience, they organized and marched in antiwar demonstrations alongside blacks and other whites. Post, the chair of the Kentucky Civil Liberties Union (KCLU) and the wife of a liberal lawyer, worked within the conventional legal framework to safeguard the rights of protesters. All three dissenters provided draft counseling and at times willfully broke the law by hiding draft resisters and soldiers from nearby Fort Knox in their basements. (7)

Governor Nunn pledged to rid the state of the Bradens, who directed the Southern Conference Education Fund (SCEF), an interracial civil rights organization. Both grew up in the segregated South. Carl spent his youth in Louisville and Anne in Alabama and Mississippi, amid the Deep South's rigid racial divide. The husband and wife team worked tirelessly for integration and social justice, risking alienation and even their lives to help an African American couple purchase a house in a white Louisville neighborhood in 1954. The SSOC evolved out of Anne's idea to politicize the southern white colleges and encourage cooperation among the races. The group relied on the Bradens for advice, and the SCEF and the SSOC, headquartered only hours apart in Louisville and Nashville, together shaped much of the southern antiwar movement. (8)

George Edwards actively opposed the Vietnam War. He counseled conscientious objectors (COs) and led antiwar demonstrations. Calling the conflict "the most obnoxious example of American Imperialism," Edwards believed U.S. involvement in Southeast Asia belied the nation's revolutionary heritage. A CO himself, Edwards knew firsthand the vicissitudes of that life choice. A college student when World War II broke out, he rejected a student deferment in favor of CO status. He spent the duration of the war engaged in public service. Afterward, he volunteered to go to Italy to help rebuild that country. When he entered a seminary in 1948, students sought him out because of his experience. "He must be on the side of whoever is being oppressed," said the Reverend Jim Flynn in a 1997 television documentary on Edwards. His wife, Jean, added, "When he speaks, people just listen." Speaking out against the war was not an easy thing to do, especially in the South, where many people were not favorably disposed toward demonstrations against the conflict. "I remember one time," said George Edwards, "we went out there and demonstrated and nearly got run over by a guy that was driving a bus of recruits [to an induction center in Louisville]. And I think he would have hit us if we hadn't jumped at the last minute. We were not in the roadway, and he turned his bus like that and was headed right into our small group." (9)

Southern hostility toward war resisters frequently provoked confrontations. In Tallahassee, for example, conservative Florida State University fraternity brothers and "jocks" pelted activists with rocks and tossed them in the student union fountain. In Texas the Ku Klux Klan harassed a woman after the local newspaper revealed that her son-in-law was an exile in Canada. Her complaints about a break-in, shattered windows, slashed tires, and crank calls failed to alarm local police, who advised her to move since the local "organization" did not "take kindly to draft dodgers." In 1967 Austin antiwar leader George Vizard died of gunshot wounds in what police termed a grocery holdup. Texas peace organizations disagreed and called his death a "political murder." Three years later a coalition of Houston activists, including the John Brown Revolutionary League, the Houston Committee to End the War, Communications for Peace, and the University of Houston Student Mobilization Committee, accused the city's police of "protecting" Klan members who perpetrated bombings, shootings, and arson. (10)

George Edwards did not allow local sentiment to deter him. His pacifist ideas were firmly grounded in the Christian tradition, and he felt morally and ethically bound to speak out. A biblical scholar and a soft-spoken but forceful orator, he warned students in Kentucky and the Southeast that they were "sheep being led to the slaughter" by draft boards that neither knew nor understood the laws. One member of a Louisville draft board actually telephoned Edwards to ask if it was true that "you don't have to be a member of the church or a practicing attender of any church to be a conscientious objector." Edwards replied, "If you have a moral conviction in your character, you qualify, under the law, as a conscientious objector. That was the law at the time, and he didn't even know it, and he was a member of the draft board!" (11)

Edwards understood the law and knew he was breaking it by assisting deserters. More than thirty years after his involvement with young deserters and draft evaders, Edwards feared putting on tape "anything I did that might be construed as grounds for my indictment." "George was so funny," recalled Anne Braden. "I don't know why he didn't get put in jail. It's against the law to help people desert the army and George was doing it all over the place." Although Braden, Suzy Post, and Edwards all believed the government had bugged their homes and thus usually avoided discussing anything incriminating on the telephone, Edwards would "forget about the surveillance and blurt out that he was down at the bus station waiting to help a guy from Ft. Knox." He was, says Braden, "the most militant pacifist you ever saw." (12)

Edwards, Post, and the Bradens risked criminal prosecution for operating a kind of Underground Railroad that assisted young Kentuckians as they sought to avoid military service in the jungles of Vietnam. Throughout the South, like-minded "conductors" did the same. Kevin Vrieze, a draft evader from Texas, found help from "Houston to Austin to Tulsa to St. Louis to Detroit, and finally to Windsor in Canada." Clerics, teachers, homemakers, and pacifists formed the core of the network. As Newsweek columnist Stewart Alsop noted, "the more middle-class and middle-aged the better," because such individuals did not draw the attention of federal and local authorities with the same regularity as did their younger, more radical counterparts. (13)

Individuals and organizations throughout the South assisted, to varying degrees, dissident soldiers. For example, the Quaker House in Fayetteville, North Carolina, hosted weekly meetings for a Fort Bragg organization named GIs United Against the War in Vietnam. The Bradens went a step further. They had a printing press in the basement that soldiers used for an underground GI newspaper called FTA and subtitled Fun, Travel, Adventure, drawing from a military recruitment slogan. One of the first newspapers edited exclusively by GIs, "It was called FTA," noted Anne, and "What it really stood for was 'Fuck the Army." Despite nearly constant federal surveillance, the Bradens' home in the city's West End served as SCEF headquarters and became a "second home" for some of the soldiers from Fort Knox. (14)

In addition to providing a meeting place and access to printing machines, the Bradens, Edwards, and Post at times opened their homes to desperate Fort Knox soldiers like Steve Gilbert and Frank Snow, who were weighing their options. Gilbert, an editor of FTA, hid at the Bradens' home after going AWOL (absent without leave) from his unit at Fort Knox. On one occasion, Anne warned him that the authorities were parked in front of her house. Steve was so "calm," Braden observed. All "he said was 'oh shit,' as he went out the back door." Several months later, Gilbert turned himself in to the army. Snow, in contrast, was one of a number of deserters who actually made it to Toronto with help from the Louisville-Toronto Underground Railroad. (15)

The railroad's first stop was a coffeehouse operating almost adjacent to Fort Knox in the small town of Muldraugh, Kentucky. Coffeehouses played a crucial role in the antiwar movement. The UFO, the first of eight high-profile coffeehouses frequented by opponents of the war, opened in late 1967 near Fort Jackson in Columbia, South Carolina, and set the tone for subsequent ones. Northern recruits viewed as oases the UFO and other southern coffeehouses such as the Oleo Strut in Killeen, Texas, the GI Coffee House in El Paso, near Fort Bliss, and the Apple House in Fayetteville. The UFO, frequented by University of South Carolina (USC) students and soldiers, "is the only place in the South that reminds me of home," observed a GI from Brooklyn, New York. Inside the coffeehouses, young soldiers enjoyed "entertainment, food, and stereo music," while learning another version of American history and the Vietnam conflict from returning veterans and civilian antiwar activists, who also provided especially desperate draftees with information about relocating to Canada and Europe. (16)

In August 1969 a handful of Louisville peace advocates known as the Youth Development Corp. [sic] (YDC) joined dissident Fort Knox soldiers to start Muldraugh's GI coffeehouse in a weathered, two-story, white frame building on Main Street. In Muldraugh, as in many base towns in the late sixties, coffeehouses were the place to be if one opposed the war or just wanted to hang out and forget military life for a moment. Coffeehouses, along with underground military newspapers, worked to politicize the GI movement, a grassroots effort made up of disillusioned young soldiers looking to end U.S. involvement in Vietnam. (17)

In addition to coffeehouses, an estimated three hundred GI underground newspapers appeared during the Vietnam era, but most lasted a year or less. Dissidents at Fort Knox and Fort Campbell, Kentucky, published at least half a dozen, including Flag-In-Action, Napalm, EM 16, In Formation, Spread Eagle, and People's Press. Perhaps the two most famous GI newspapers, both FTA and Fort Jackson's Short Times ran fairly regularly from 1968 through 1972, and they received help from the UFO and the Muldraugh coffeehouse. The UFO printed Short Times on site, and the YDC collaborated on Fort Knox's FTA, which reached both a U.S. and a European readership, published hard-hitting pieces on topics like racism in the military and overcrowded conditions in the Fort Knox Stockade, carried a letters section, and featured dark cartoons lampooning America's Vietnam policies and military life in general. Like FTA, the coffeehouse movement was "dedicated to building a movement of GIs who no longer will accept being messed over in the army and being used to mess over other people around the world." (18)

Muldraugh's coffeehouse was decorated with a large painting of an upside-down American flag and posters of Chairman Mao, Che Guevara, and Black Panther leaders. The flag, an important coffeehouse symbol, became a point of contention with Muldraugh residents who were outraged to see the symbol of the Republic displayed in this manner. They were equally outraged and confounded by young men like twenty-two-year-old Thomas Jackson, a Vietnam veteran who lived with his wife Kathy and their infant son over the coffeehouse. Jackson had fought under the Stars and Stripes yet defended the flag painting by characterizing it as "a distress signal" for a country "in a period of distress." (19)

The coffeehouse groups participated in national and local demonstrations. For example, they held a rally in Muldraugh in mid-October 1969 in conjunction with the Vietnam War Moratorium in Washington, D.C. Although the theme--"the nature of repression against politically active people in the U.S"--suggested a national scope, the rally had a decidedly local flavor. The crowd of about 150 gathered primarily to express support for FTA editor Steve Gilbert. (20)

A number of prominent activists visited the coffeehouse, including folksinger and feminist Barbara Dane and Howard B. Levy, a U.S. Army doctor formerly imprisoned at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, for refusing, based on his antiwar sentiments, to provide medical training to Vietnam-bound Green Berets. Both Dane and Levy stopped by Muldraugh in early November 1969 while touring the coffeehouse circuit. After Christmas that year, between fifty and sixty coffeehouse proprietors gathered in Muldraugh to discuss "common problems" such as the lack of operating funds and community hostility toward their establishments. At first glance, tiny Muldraugh seemed an unlikely site for a conference. No doubt its southern location was a lure, since most conference attendees hailed from the South's warm climes, where the military tended to build bases. Moreover, the other operators probably wanted to support the embattled coffeehouse, which locals had opposed from the very beginning. To prevent trouble, the YDC and FTA "imposed" a news blackout on the conference, and the coffeehouse "rebuffed" Louisville Courier-Journal reporters. "As far as we are concerned," said a coffeehouse spokesman, "this is a non-event. It didn't happen." (21)

Muldraugh, like many base towns, tended to be conservative, patriotic, and economically dependent on defense spending. Locals did not like communists, antiwar demonstrators, or so-called longhairs in their community. City officials closed coffeehouses through continual harassment or, as was the case in Leesville, Louisiana, by denying the operators a license. In Columbia the UFO underwent police checks at least once nightly and was shut down as a public nuisance after two years, despite efforts by liberals such as Laughlin McDonald, an American Civil Liberties Union attorney and a native of South Carolina. Called a "Communist front" and frequented by blacks as well as whites, the operation offended the sensibilities of Columbia's officials and residents. "I think they're terrible. They have a slouchy, beatnik crowd," asserted police chief L. J. Campbell. Referring to the coffeehouse as a "cesspool of evil," Columbia prosecutor John Foard prided himself on the UFO's demise and afterward sought to ostracize several area professors who defended the establishment, including Stanley Gutman, the Reverend Ray Moore, and the Reverend Theodore Ledeen. (22)

Like their counterparts in South Carolina and Louisiana, some Muldraugh citizens and most town officials branded coffeehouse proprietors and patrons as communists and harassed them through legal channels and other means until the YDC finally agreed to close the shop only a year after it opened. At one court hearing, the eighty-one-year-old landlord of the coffeehouse property spoke for most Muldraugh residents and other base communities when he alleged that "things weren't going right there." He wanted the tenants evicted for not paying rent. Since the operators of the coffeehouse had attempted several times to deliver the rent, their lawyer concluded that nonpayment was not the real issue. When he proposed that the problem might be "a generation gap," the landlord exploded, "You're a Communist, the same as the rest of them." (23)

Like many of the GI coffeehouses, the one in Muldraugh proved extremely controversial, enjoyed a relatively brief life span, and thus on the surface could be judged a failure. Coffeehouses, however, served a significant purpose. They became way stations for young draftees and deserters on the Underground Railroad to Canada and fueled the growing GI movement by bringing civilian and military activists together. For example, Suzy Post, her attorney husband, Edward, and five other KCLU lawyers provided legal assistance free of charge to the young coffeehouse revolutionaries. Although the coffeehouse ultimately folded, some YDC and FTA participants remained committed to their cause and went to jail for brief periods rather than obey court orders to close. The Muldraugh coffeehouse operators, like those who ran the UFO, tried to stay on the right side of the law by prohibiting drugs, liquor, and fighting. However, they underestimated the determination of locals to shut them down. They also failed to fully appreciate Muldraugh's economic dependence on Fort Knox and the role that loyalty to the base played in solidifying community opposition. As historian William H. Chafe concludes, young antiwar demonstrators approached Vietnam with a naive belief that once they showed policy makers the error of their ways, the U.S. government would end the war. (24)

Opposing the war had become the thing to do, Suzy Post recalled. "It was sort of like, here are these cute little college kids, intellectuals from up East that have this new toy called the Vietnam War Coffee House." Dissenters could be found in many arenas beyond the coffeehouse, however, and women of all ages took part in the effort. Radicalized younger women rejected the limitations of established gender roles and abandoned groups like Women Strike for Peace (WSP) and the Women's International League for Peace and Freedom that relied on older ideals for legitimacy. One splinter group even conducted a symbolic burial of "traditional womanhood," carrying the stuffed figure of a "passive woman" to the Arlington National Cemetery for mock interment. WSP, a national movement by 1961, took on a variety of foreign policy issues during the cold war. But not all critics of the war were young. Post was not a hit-the-streets marcher like Edwards, the Bradens, and their younger counterparts, and her Vietnam-era activities add complexity to simplistic images of radical antiwar protestors. In the classic dilemma of her generation, she admitted to being "trapped by traditional roles," but she worked behind the scenes in various ways, as did many middle-aged, middle-class women. Thirty-five years old at the time, she had "enormous responsibilities in terms of work," maintaining a household for five children and living with a man who "was scared to death" that she would "do something to upset the status quo of my family." Rather than engaging in highly visible activism, she baked cookies, counseled demonstrators and resisters, guarded their legal rights, and made her home available to them to relax, do laundry, and call relatives. For one brief stretch, she hid two FTA workers from "up east" secretly, knowing that if her husband found out she would have been "dead in the water." If, in retrospect, she did less than she would have liked to do, she nevertheless actively organized her community to fight what she called the "racism and classism" of the draft and proceeded "as though I expected to succeed." Post was not alone. From Nashville to Los Angeles, women who were considered "ordinary housewives" confronted government leaders on everything from nuclear weapons to napalm in a quest to make the world safe for their children and children around the world. Long overlooked in analyses of the feminist movement, such middle-aged, middle-class, well-educated women made significant contributions to the antiwar movement. Post's generation of well-educated women had succumbed, often grudgingly, to societal pressure to use their talents where they purportedly counted most, in nurturing children and caring for the home. But the younger women, Post says, "really schooled me to feminism ... I wanted to be out with those kids doing what they were doing." Instead she supported the cause in quieter ways. (25)

During the Vietnam War Moratorium in November 1969, Post delivered chocolate chip cookies to a busload of young activists heading for Washington, D.C. The scene at the Louisville Greyhound station, with the sleeping bags, hiking boots, and "goodbye-kissing of parents," resembled a "Scout jamboree." The black armbands of the protestors and the presence of FBI agents wielding cameras, however, served as a reminder that the trip was not a late autumn outing. One of Post's peers captured the essence of the moment when she yelled to a departing teenager, "Give 'em hell, honey." Days later, Post, in a straightforward letter to the Louisville FBI office, protested the agents' actions and accused the agency of trying to intimidate young activists and discourage them from exercising their First Amendment rights. The agents' sole purpose, she believed, was to frighten the demonstrators. (26)

As the chair of the KCLU, Post became both a local bridge-builder and a national organizer. In an effort to turn the KCLU into more of an activist group, she reached out to many people, including Anne and Carl Braden, who had been persona non grata in the liberal community since the mid-1950s, when authorities had labeled them communists for helping a black family purchase a house in a white Louisville neighborhood. Before Post's overtures, the KCLU was "scared to death of us," Anne remarked. "Carl and I used to go to the annual dinner every year just to worry them." In early December 1969 Post helped build more bridges when the KCLU brought Dr. Benjamin Spock, the noted pediatrician and an outspoken critic of the war, to Louisville. Spock spoke to an intergenerational crowd of black and white students "garbed in the nonconformist uniform of youth and the middle-aged and older middle-class adults clothed in the dark suits and dresses of respectability." The next day he attended a workshop on the topic "Repression in Kentucky," sponsored by the Black Liberation Front, the Louisville Peace Council (LPC), and the SCEF. On both occasions, Spock assailed the federal government for "causing all the violence" in Vietnam and at home. (27)

Like Spock, Post believed in solidarity among the various groups that opposed the war even as they took on other social justice causes, and she faced the same challenges that he did in getting the antiwar organizations to work side by side with civil rights activists already radicalized by the struggle. Ironically, black war protesters encountered the same dilemma as they weighed coming out against Vietnam and thus possibly alienating their grassroots supporters. Both sets of dissidents risked antagonizing the government and being tarred with the brush of communism. Respectability was important, especially to middle-aged activists who recalled the spectacle of McCarthyism. They too risked losing everything if they went too far. Suzy Post enjoyed a certain level of respectability because of her socioeconomic status. "I came out of the great white Jewish middle class," Post noted. "My husband was a very successful trial lawyer so I could operate within that community with a kind of authority and legitimacy." Post described her work and the antiwar stance of her colleagues, including the Bradens and Edwards, in ethical terms. "It was a moral issue and it grew in the churches. Most of the people with whom I worked really didn't have a political perspective," she recalled, "they had a moral perspective." (28) This absence of political perspective divided "traditional" antiwar women like Post from the younger generation of "radicals" who criticized the older women for their "false consciousness" and urged them to abandon the roles of mother and wife and demand instead to be treated equally by the government as citizens.

Leading antiwar organizations, such as the LPC and Clergy and Laity Concerned of Kentuckiana, had strong church ties and ministers like Edwards in leadership roles. Although the activists were well organized, Louisville demonstrations in 1966 were small compared to those in the North and on the West Coast. They generally took place downtown, often near the Federal Building because it housed the city's Selective Service headquarters. Everyone was told to go "downtown every Wednesday to have a vigil against the war," recalled Anne Braden. In the early days, Edwards, one of the leading organizers, could entice only a handful of ministers, Quakers, professors, house-wives, students, and children to come out. Most were white, but blacks from the SCEF sometimes participated. Black community leaders like Lester Pope, the managing editor of the Louisville Defender, the city's African American newspaper, also joined in, helping to unite the antiwar and civil rights movements. (29)

Protests in the South, especially early in the war, attracted few supporters. For example, the first demonstration in the proud military town of El Paso, Texas, happened in November 1965. It featured fourteen marchers, predominantly students, led by a young professor at Texas Western College. Escorted by police, they faced two thousand hostile locals who threw eggs and called them "Commies." A year later, twenty blacks clashed with Atlanta police officers at an army induction center. In spring 1967 Nashville and Columbia witnessed small but notable protests that involved President Lyndon B. Johnson and General William Westmoreland. Thirty SSOC members picketed Johnson's March visit to Nashville, and police arrested three of them, including the group's one black worker, for trying to block the president's departing limousine. Westmoreland's April trip to USC for an honorary doctorate triggered a miniriot, as over four hundred pro-Westmoreland students pelted thirty protesters with "projectiles" and ripped their antiwar signs. (30)

Martial patriotism, fear, and racism thinned the antiwar ranks in Dixie and prevented some who privately opposed the war from demonstrating publicly. For instance, Molly Shapiro, a longtime civil rights activist and war opponent, gladly assisted blacks passing through El Paso, but at the last minute she declined to join the November 1965 antiwar march for fear the pro-war crowd might vandalize her record store "in retaliation." Southern doves often preferred writing their legislators to marching up the boulevard. Moreover, in their letters they "sought to distinguish themselves from the stereotypical protestor" by disavowing hippie culture. The experience of Texas syndicated columnist Molly Ivins reflected the mainstream southern thought. "I was for civil rights and against the war, and people told me I was a liberal. Some told me I was a Communist.... I was no Communist," declared Ivins. In 1966 she attended Columbia's Graduate School of Journalism in New York and marched in her first antiwar demonstration in the North. The experience amazed the young Texan because unlike in the South, "thousands and thousands" of protestors filled the streets, including students, teachers, and politicians. "I thought I'd died and gone to heaven," recalled Ivins. (31)

Exceptions, however, occurred, and some southern cities, particularly later in the war, witnessed large-scale protests. Austin, home to the University of Texas (UT), saw its campus radicalized in the late fifties over civil rights. The campus also hosted one of the few southern chapters of Students for a Democratic Society (SDS). "Several thousand" of UT's twenty-seven thousand students rallied in April 1967 when the school chastised SDS for picketing Vice President Hubert Humphrey's Austin visit. During the October 1969 national Vietnam War Moratorium, attendance at gatherings in Austin, Atlanta, Chapel Hill, Little Rock, and Tallahassee ranged from three thousand to seven thousand. The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill (UNC), like UT, enjoyed a somewhat tolerant administration, experienced a Free Speech Movement and "militant" Black Student Movement in the mid-to-late sixties, and featured SDS and SSOC chapters. Termed the "Berkeley of the South," Tallahassee's Florida State University also housed an SDS chapter that confronted campus officials on an array of issues. Both Atlanta and Little Rock experienced April 1969 demonstrations marking the first anniversary of the death of Martin Luther King Jr. In each case, three thousand marched. (32)

The King anniversary also sparked a demonstration in Louisville. To honor him and support the so-called Black Six (six African Americans who at the time faced trial over their alleged involvement in riots in Louisville in May 1968), about two hundred civil rights advocates, most of them blacks, started marching from Louisville's West End toward the county courthouse, the site of a scheduled memorial service. Coming from the other direction, down Broadway, 130 LPC demonstrators, primarily whites, marched to acknowledge King's antiwar contributions. The streets were full of people. According to Anne Braden, neither group had secured a permit to march, and neither was aware of the other's plans. "It was pure coincidence," Braden recalled, and no one had "enough sense on either side to call up and make some contacts." By chance, both groups hit Fourth and Broadway at the same moment and "overflowed" into the street. The police, probably fearing a recurrence of the May 1968 disorders, "quickly blocked the street to vehicles while the marchers clapped, sang and chanted their way" to the courthouse. At first, the blacks shouted, "Freedom, Freedom!" and the whites shouted, "Peace, Peace!" as they walked. Soon, however, they shouted both slogans in unison and raised a black flag. In a 1999 interview, Braden mused over what the movements could accomplish when they came together. "You took over Fourth Street," she asserted, "nobody could have stopped them, and nobody tried." Before the demonstration ended, Braden ran into George Edwards on the street. The two had at times disagreed over the Black Power movement because its supporters' advocacy of racial separation disturbed him. As their paths converged, Braden asked, "What do you think about that Black Power now? He just laughed," she recalled. (33)

Braden remembers a harmonious confluence of the two marches. Edwards remembers that those were "thrilling" and "volatile" times, and to prevent violence, "the cops would come out and stand between our group and their group." The Courier-Journal reported that the black contingent chanted, "Black Power, sock it to me!" while those people with the Louisville Peace Council chanted, "Freedom, Peace." At times, each group attempted to "drown" out the other. At the courthouse memorial, some blacks and whites joined hands and exhorted "black and white together," but a large number of people, described by the Courier-Journal as "young militants," repeatedly "directed catcalls at speakers" and thrust their fists into the air in the Black Power symbol. Two black teenagers, male and female, like the young radical women who rejected the tactics of their more traditional elders, each took a turn at the microphone and criticized the display of racial unity. "This holding hands stuff is all over," shouted the young man. "Martin Luther King was a good man and he was nonviolent and he was killed by violence.... If I'm violent what do you expect?" Afterward, the young woman remarked, "If this is Martin Luther King Day ask those honkies out there for a job." (34)

Despite segregation, many social activists like King, the Bradens, Edwards, and Post saw war and poverty as inseparable issues, thus their activism crossed racial and class lines. But the marches show that interaction between the two movements in the South could be complicated and difficult. Although many blacks opposed the war, anger over second-class citizenship at times prevented them from accepting white activists. For example, the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), on the one hand, denounced the war in Vietnam but also advocated black separatism. On the other hand, some white liberals, hoping to broaden their antiwar base in the white community, shied away from blacks for fear conservatives would target them as "communist integrationists." (35)

Liberals' concerns were valid. Segregationists like Alabama governor George C. Wallace used King's antiwar stance to discredit civil rights. The Bradens were labeled communists in 1954 when Carl was convicted of sedition for trying to integrate a white neighborhood. His seven-month prison stint only strengthened the couple's resolve, and unlike many liberals in the South, they, along with Post and Edwards, encouraged collaboration between the races, as did organizations such as the National Mobilization Committee to End the War in Vietnam, which cut across civil rights organizational lines in an attempt to unite Americans in a biracial organization. The group's Southern Coordinating Committee planned rallies in Atlanta, New Orleans, Miami, Pine Bluff, Arkansas, and several other southern cities. (36)

Anne Braden's brainchild, the SSOC, a predominantly white group meant to complement SNCC, enjoyed some early success fighting for civil rights and other social justice causes, but it derailed on the Vietnam War. Organized in 1964 by delegates from fifteen southern colleges, the SSOC spread throughout the region and even reached into the Deep South. For example, in a Jackson, Mississippi, apartment, five SSOC activists calling themselves "The Army" produced an underground newspaper titled KUDZU and, with the help of Millsaps College students, distributed the publication at local high schools and at Mississippi State University. Headquartered in Nashville, just several hours from Louisville, the SSOC collaborated with the SCEF to set the agenda for the southern antiwar movement. The SCEF occasionally met in Nashville and lent cars to SSOC members, who in turn promoted the Louisville-based organization. The two groups worked together to create a new organization, the Southern Committee Against Repression (SCAR), and they initiated the Southern Movement News Service, a clearinghouse for coordinating the region's underground papers and movement newsletters. (37)

The SSOC, backed by the SCEF and other groups, reached its peak in early 1969. Although an internal crisis soon splintered the group, it organized a four-day southern protest of the Nixon inauguration in Washington, D.C. The protesters chose a site near the White House at the statue of Union general William Tecumseh Sherman, whose scorched-earth tactics during the Civil War sought to break the South's spirit. The site symbolized "Yankee Imperialism and the colonial status of the South," claimed the young activists, who co-opted historical memory to allege that northern capitalists victimized southerners and Vietnamese alike. (38)

The group's antiwar philosophy centered on "southern distinctiveness," which inspired some members and offended others. Some SSOC leaders admired the work of historian C. Vann Woodward and invited him to address the group. They also lionized southern progressives like Braden and began to emphasize white Confederates' "positive" traits of "bravery, loyalty, and devotion." "Not for slavery," they claimed, but for dedication to their families and homes. As one activist observed, "no revolution is gonna happen" without whites, and to recruit them the SSOC must examine "those very things that make Southerners what they are and build on them--using the symbols and peculiarities by which they have been taught to identify themselves." The Confederate flag reemerged as an important symbol, and rebel yells broke out at antiwar demonstrations where the SSOC "call[ed] for southerners to 'secede' from the war." (39)

In June 1969 the southern identity issue imploded at a meeting near Edwards, Mississippi. SCEF representative Carl Braden attended, along with a number of SDS activists. Weakened by internal power struggles and eager to garner support in the South, SDS targeted SSOC members who rejected the Confederate symbolism, a move that, to the dismay of the Bradens, hastened the SSOC's self-destruction. Anne Braden recognized the pitfalls and contradictions of opposing the Vietnam War in the martially patriotic and racially divided South and lamented years later that the "SSOC made two mistakes. The first was to organize in the first place. The second was to disband when it did." (40)

For black and white activists willing to work together, the draft, which inducted 64 percent of eligible blacks but only 31 percent of eligible whites in 1967 and was particularly biased against the former, provided common ground. In Louisville, black and white doves became especially critical of Local Board 47, which administered most of the city's West End, an area comprising eighty thousand blacks and fifty thousand whites. By 1969 Board 47 faced three high-profile cases involving two local activists, Joe Mulloy and Manfred Reid, and the boxing champion Muhammad Ali. Reid and Ali, both black, accused the board of racial discrimination. Reid and Mulloy, a young white man, also shared the stage at an October 1969 antiwar rally in Muldraugh. Reid echoed the sentiments of King and helped bridge the racial gap by identifying Vietnam as an important issue on which blacks and whites could work together toward liberty. "If America is for freedom," why is it not "in South Africa trying to free slaves instead of participating in a civil war in Vietnam?" (41)

Reid, described as a "militant leader" by the Louisville Defender, promoted economic and political empowerment for the black community. Honorably discharged from the Marines, the thirty-three-year-old father of two asserted that the board reclassified him 1-A, eligible for the draft, because of the racially charged Black Six trial, which lasted two years and ended in the acquittal of Reid and his co-defendants due to insufficient evidence. During the legal ordeal, the SSOC and other southern activists sent letters on behalf of the Black Six to Louisville officials. The grand jury indicted Reid and five other African Americans for "conspiring to destroy" private property during the May 1968 riots in Louisville's West End. The city suffered waves of looting, fire-bombing, and other violence severe enough to prompt Governor Nunn to send in the National Guard. Like the conflagrations in more than a hundred American cities, including some in the South--Atlanta, Augusta, Houston, Nashville, and Tampa--Louisville's disturbance erupted suddenly and violently. A rally protesting police harassment of Reid ignited the disorder. As with the rest of the nation, however, frustration over poverty, racism, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s assassination, and the Vietnam War fueled the riots. (42)

Composed of two whites and two blacks, Board 47 contended that Reid's reclassification resulted from his failure to fill out the correct forms identifying his address and the terms of his service in the Marines. Colonel Taylor Davidson, Kentucky's highest draft official, characterized the reclassification as a minor issue. Davidson may have been correct, but Louisville officials also may have intended the re-classification as a warning to Reid. In the South, conservative whites dominated boards and used the draft to rid communities of troublemakers, including civil rights leaders. Organizations like King's Southern Christian Leadership Conference pressured state and federal officials to increase black representation on southern draft boards. States like Arkansas and Louisiana, whose boards had no black members in 1966, progressed significantly in just two years, with over thirty appointments each. Kentucky, however, delayed and, along with Georgia, South Carolina, and Alabama, made only "token appointments." (43)

Twenty-three-year-old Joe Mulloy's social activism, like Reid's, no doubt affected his draft status, and his case for CO classification gained national significance. In 1967 Mulloy served in the Appalachian Volunteers, a program in the War on Poverty. Based on his work in Pike County, Kentucky, Mulloy received an occupational deferment. After his arrest in August 1967 for sedition, he lost his draft deferment. Mulloy and FTA believed government officials targeted him for the draft when he sought to organize the working poor against the Pike County power structure, which labeled him a communist. (44)

Like Ali and many of Mulloy's Louisville colleagues, including the Bradens, Edwards, and Post, his politics made him suspect, and the FBI placed him under surveillance. Mulloy's wife, Karen, an activist who worked with the SCEF and the SSOC, also appeared in FBI reports. The SCEF, the LPC, and the SSOC built a movement around Joe Mulloy with petitions, letters of support, newspaper editorials, and protests at the Selective Service offices and the Armed Forces induction center. A federal judge sentenced Mulloy in 1968 to the maximum of five years imprisonment and a $10,000 fine. He served only six weeks in the Louisville jail, however, and like many activists who found themselves behind bars, he made the best of it. "We played a lot of poker, lost about twenty pounds, met some interesting people," recalled Mulloy. Robert Allen Sedler, a professor at the University of Kentucky Law School and a civil liberties advocate, represented Mulloy as a favor in a case that ended up before the Supreme Court. (45)

By 1969 Selective Service cases occupied the fourth-largest category on the criminal dockets of the nation's federal courts. The draft system was cracking under the weight of its own caseload, the ever-increasing network of draft counselors, and the unwillingness of many federal judges to support the actions of local draft boards. The Supreme Court issued three landmark decisions on the subject in 1970. Joe Mulloy's was one of them.

The three cases had been moving through the lower courts for over four years, and once adjudicated, they marked a watershed in the enforcement of draft law. David Gutknecht, a Minnesota pacifist, was punitively reclassified and ordered to report for induction. Elliot Welsh was a non-religious CO whose claim was denied. When the Supreme Court reversed his conviction, it held that specific religious beliefs were not central to CO status. The day of the Welsh decision, the Court also announced its decision against Mulloy's Louisville draft board for failing to reopen his case after he had presented a prima facie claim for CO classification. The Gutknecht, Welsh, and Mulloy decisions meant that most pending cases had to be reexamined, and the rulings had the practical effect of reducing both the length and the severity of sentences nationwide. In fact, as a result of these three cases, prosecutors across the country became much less interested in prosecuting draft cases, and some judges refused to return any convictions for draft offenses. (46)

Muhammad Ali's high-profile case was one that draft authorities did not want to lose. The boxer's claim for CO status had focused national scrutiny on Louisville for some time, but media attention peaked in June 1971, when the Supreme Court ruled that draft officials either had failed to understand or had misread case law and wrongfully denied his CO exemption. By that time, Ali had become the city's and perhaps the nation's most celebrated war resister. In addition, his position had been co-opted, with or without his approval, by the black freedom movement. "While we are not claiming any special privilege for Negro Americans, what we are challenging is the moral right of this nation, based upon its record, to insist that any black man must put on the military uniform, at any time, and go thousands of miles away from these shores to risk his life for a society which has historically been his oppressor," wrote the editors of Freedomways, a New York magazine that called itself "a quarterly review of the Negro freedom movement." They declared that Ali's simple statement, "I won't wear the uniform," of all the rhetoric used to express opposition to the Vietnam War, "may prove to be the most eloquent as a statement of personal commitment. They are words which should echo among the youth in every ghetto across this land." (47)

Many young, middle-class whites also questioned military service. Some felt so strongly about it that their only option was to leave the country, and most of those who fled went to Canada. Of the estimated fifty thousand or more American men and women who sought asylum there, only a fraction originated from the Louisville/Fort Knox area, but by 1971, a group of expatriates calling themselves the "Louisville Exiles" had fashioned a new community around a renovated Toronto apartment house affectionately dubbed "The Louisville Ghetto." Included in the group were draft-age civilian males and soldiers from Fort Knox, many accompanied by their wives. (48)

For military deserters and draft evaders, the decision to leave was fraught with difficulty. It meant leaving family and friends, and for some, it actually meant losing the love and respect of those they held most dear. Most of the Louisville Exiles came from middle-class, fairly religious backgrounds, and their families valued education, hard work, and patriotism. The price they paid for their decision not to serve was high, and many never returned to the United States, even when amnesty made that a legal option. (49)

Louisvillians Sandy Sutton and his wife, Geny, met in the late sixties at Baptist-affiliated Kentucky Southern College in Jefferson County. The young couple did not consider themselves radicals, but they ultimately came to oppose American involvement in Vietnam. "I'm not a demonstrator," said Geny. "I'm not a sign waver." (50)

The draft eventually forced many middle-class young people like the Suttons to make hard choices. Unlike poor and working-class youth, the exiles were in a position to explore and take advantage of options other than military service or prison. Driven by philosophical, religious, or moral convictions against taking human life, most applied for CO status. Organizations such as Louisville's Kentuckiana Military and Draft Counseling Project emerged in numerous southern cities, and sympathetic social activists, including Edwards, Post, the Bradens, and Joe Mulloy, came to the aid of draft resisters, offering not only religious and legal counseling but other resources as well. In fact, most exiles probably could have avoided the draft and escaped conviction, but a combination of mistrust of authorities, ignorance of legal alternatives, and the perception that lawyers were expensive and unavailable caused many military deserters and draft evaders to flee the country without fully understanding possible options. (51)

Unbeknownst to many of the young deserters and draft evaders, legal options existed in the Louisville/Fort Knox area, even for men with no money. For instance, in February 1968 nineteen-year-old Joe Shumate dropped out of the University of Louisville (U of L) with failing grades. He lost his college deferment, and his induction notice from the local draft board quickly followed. When the possibility of fighting in Vietnam became imminent, Shumate contacted Joe Mulloy, who also counseled U of L students on avoiding the war. After discussing the possibilities, Shumate sought CO classification. On his application, Shumate described the war as "folly" and admitted to being an agnostic since he "could see no evidence of a god." The board rejected his application, and Shumate "took off for Canada" soon afterward. (52)

Almost a year later, Sandy Sutton began to consider Canada when he dropped out of Kentucky Southern for a semester during his sophomore year, forfeiting his college deferment. During the fall of 1968, the draft became "an obsession with him," amid other "pressing" concerns, including an impending marriage to Geny. Sandy's "Greetings!" from the Selective Service arrived on May 19, 1969, his birthday. "It's like layoffs at work," he recalled. "Each week a few more go, but not you! It's abstract, vague, ominous but not real until YOU get the finger." Like Shumate, Sutton applied for CO status and was denied. (53)

Sutton's clearest memory of the time was his trip to the Selective Service office, where the staff's commonplace appearance and demeanor unsettled him and made his request for a CO application seem more humiliating. They are "just average people," he observed, "quietly filing your life away, probably in triplicate." Sutton's uneasy, hopeless feeling of being caught in the system was not uncommon among individuals who wrestled with the decision of whether to leave their homeland for Canada. (54)

Not long after his birthday, Sutton headed north in a "beat-up" 1961 Renault with three hundred dollars in his pocket. He made a brief late-night stop in Chicago to confer with a draft counselor and then drove to Canada. Like the thousands who came before and afterward, Sutton smiled at the border guards, informed them that he was there to visit friends, and "nervously crossed" into Windsor, Ontario. Geny was anxious too. "Right up to the end," she noted, "I thought some miracle would keep it from happening." The night Sandy left, she moved out of their apartment and worried that the Federal Bureau of Investigation "would be hot on his trail." (55)

Southern families, often rich in military tradition and concerned with respectability, afforded individuals like Sandy little sympathy. Geny's mother and Sandy's father, who considered the young man a traitor, were especially furious with the couple's decision. Her mother questioned out loud how her daughter could marry a "draft dodger," and Louis Sutton quit speaking to his son. "It about killed me," he said of Sandy's decision. "That college did it to him. I know that's what happened." (56)

"Good families in the South always do what is expected of them," observed Mississippi writer and former exile James Dickerson, who described the mother of a draft resister from Memphis, Tennessee. She reminded her son that "he came from a good family" and beseeched him to report "as ordered" into the military. "My family wanted to disown me, but they found out it would cost too much in legal fees," recalled a Texas Vietnam veteran who deserted to Canada. (57)

During the summer of 1970, Sandy and Geny rented an apartment in the Louisville Ghetto, a three-story structure that eventually housed several other Louisville Exiles, including Dave and Patricia Siegel and Gil and Anita Steiner. Similar lodging arrangements popped up across Toronto, and by 1969 a core resister community, nicknamed the American ghetto, emerged in the neighborhoods surrounding the University of Toronto's downtown campus. By the early seventies, the Louisville Exiles actively helped other draft evaders and deserters coming from Louisville and Fort Knox. The Suttons, the Siegels, and George and Jean Edwards were "untiring in their efforts" to assist resisters. (58)

Having spent much of 1970 in Toronto on a year's leave of absence from the Louisville Presbyterian Seminary, George Edwards literally worked both sides of the border through organizations like the Kentuckiana Military and Draft Counseling Project. In Toronto he and Jean boarded several Louisville resisters like Gil Steiner, a U of L graduate, and Joe Sigur, a U of L basketball player from Atlanta. Sigur had quit the team and forfeited his scholarship when the coach ordered him to get a haircut. "I've come to a point where I don't see why I have to live a lie," he asserted. "I don't see why people can't accept me the way I am--hair, clothes and everything." (59)

The two sides found little common ground, and the silent majority did not always remain silent in the South. For example, demonstrators in Jackson, Mississippi, burned a replica of the Vietcong flag in May 1967, after marching ten blocks in the rain to express support for the war. Three years later a Dallas jury, composed of six men and six women, sentenced a nineteen-year-old male to a four-year prison term for burning an American flag. (60)

Some pro-war demonstrations occurred in Louisville. A rally in October 1967 produced a seemingly improbable combination: the Concerned Citizens Committee, the Total Effort for America Committee, the Ku Klux Klan, and the Committee for the Continuation of War for the Sake of Love and the Preservation of Peace. A year later the school board denied Edwards's request to speak at a meeting on behalf of the Louisville Peace Council. Edwards wanted to propose that peace advocates receive "equal time with military recruiters" in the high schools. Following the meeting, a parents' group, numbering about thirty, heckled Edwards while the press interviewed him. Some yelled "traitor," and many wore campaign paraphernalia promoting the 1968 presidential bid of George Wallace. In December 1969 a handful of individuals picketed outside the Atherton High School auditorium as Dr. Spock spoke. Their signs read "Free speech or treason?" "Dr. Spock--leader of loud-mouthed minority," and "Enter Hanoi Annex." Many of the city's residents, intensely anticommunist, held traditional southern values and strong religious convictions that supported the notion of duty and service to one's country, and as late as 1970, even if they were not willing to take to the streets to support the war, approximately two hundred parishioners walked out on an antiwar sermon at Fifth Street's Cathedral of the Assumption. (61)

In fact, until the late sixties, U of L, like many southern schools, had its share of war supporters. A 1969 poll of southern college students, taken after President Nixon's silent majority speech, indicated that 60 percent "approved of his handling of the war and 34 percent disapproved." In 1965 a crowd of approximately three hundred onlookers and campus hawks pelted a small U of L antiwar gathering with eggs, tomatoes, and water balloons in response to denunciations of penalties for burning draft cards. Some of the counter-demonstrators also jeered and carried signs that read "Pinkos are D-Card Burners" and "Make a flaming ass of yourself--Burn your draft card." That December a student group cooperated with the local Marine Reserve unit in raising money for CARE, the international relief organization, by selling buttons bearing the slogan "I CARE." The program was intended to give Marines in the field a chance to distribute items needed by specific villages. "We have been trying to find a way to show our American fighting men in Viet Nam that we do care," said Mike McMahon, president of the student body. A number of student organizations and the school newspaper, the Cardinal, still supported the war effort in January 1967. The Cardinal, however, modified its view several months later. (62)

In 1968 Woodrow M. Strickler became U of L's president and inherited a campus in transition, increasingly, students across the United States openly opposed the war, even at moderate-sized southern schools such as U of L. The Louisville Peace Council began working in conjunction with Students for Social Action, which opposed the draft and the war, to establish a draft counseling service and arrange protests against corporations such as Dow, whose chemical division manufactured napalm. Moreover, some U of L students handed out copies of FTA to military personnel visiting Louisville on weekends. According to one coed, returning Vietnam veterans at Fort Knox also supplied students with drugs, which by 1969 were becoming more prevalent on campus. (63)

To maintain order, Strickler took a proactive approach that allowed demonstrations but avoided violence and disorder. A World War II veteran and an economist who worked his way up through the U of L administrative ranks, he stressed the importance of open communication with faculty and students. Strickler and approximately twelve hundred others participated in the October 1969 Vietnam War Moratorium, a national protest. Faculty, students, and activists attired in black armbands marched on campus, listened to speakers, and planted a "peace' tree." Strickler, wearing a twenty-six-year-old black armband from his funeral duty in WWII, broke the ground for the tree. No violence occurred at the event, and students applauded as Strickler reaffirmed the university's role as a free-speech forum. The Cardinal called the president's involvement the "highlight" of the day, and the newspaper's editor thanked him, especially for his heartfelt decision to wear the black armband. (64)

Strickler's strategy was tested in May 1970 by the shooting deaths of four Kent State University students by Ohio National Guardsmen. American campuses erupted after the tragedy, and administrators closed over eighty colleges, some for brief periods and others for the semester. More than one hundred schools reported "significant" violence. Close to home, sixty-five miles east of Louisville in Lexington, the University of Kentucky (UK), the state's flagship institution, experienced considerable turmoil. Governor Nunn responded to the burning of the ROTC building there by sending in the Kentucky National Guard. Over thirty ROTC and campus buildings across America burned in May, including some at the University of Alabama and the University of Virginia. U of L avoided a similar fate when a crude attempt at arson fizzled out. (65)

Strickler's leadership helped calm the charged atmosphere. On May 5, the day after the shootings at Kent State, some seventy-five U of L students and faculty met to develop a meaningful, sympathetic response to the shootings. University officials accepted their recommendation for a one-day memorial, and Strickler issued several statements supporting "student dissent ... within rational limits" and "the right of free speech" for all Americans. Held outside near the library, the May 7th student observance included a "constant stream of speakers" and concluded with a "quiet march" to the university's ROTC building. There, Nick Demartino, the student who organized the event, placed a black wreath with pink flowers on the steps. Earlier he had stepped up to the microphone to criticize Nunn's decision to send National Guardsmen to UK. The governor, he asserted, "is just looking for votes from the poor, scared, silent majority." (66)

U of L was not the only southern school to reasonably manage the Kent State tragedy. For instance, Joseph Smiley, president of the University of Texas at El Paso (UTEP; formerly Texas Western College), cooperated with El Paso mayor Peter de Weter to arrange a peaceful memorial. During his two-year term, de Weter promoted civic harmony by permitting peaceful demonstrations in the city and worked closely with his friend John Karr, a respected businessman and founder of the El Paso chapter of the American Friends Service Committee, a pacifist organization. To honor the Kent State students, Smiley "urge[d] faculty" to allow students to participate in a one-day strike, and de Weter "ordered the police to serve ice water" to a thousand marchers. Once the procession reached City Hall, de Weter joined in and led the group back to campus, where he patiently listened to the students' grievances. A letter in the Prospector, the UTEP newspaper, thanked de Weter for his kindness and applauded El Paso "as an example to be followed by other cities in coordinating municipal functions with peaceful and concerned dissent." El Paso had come a long way since the first antiwar protest in 1965, when fourteen marchers faced an angry mob. (67)

Public response to the one-day memorial at U of L was mixed. Louisville's two major newspapers, the Courier-Journal and the Times, portrayed the event primarily in positive terms. A Courier-Journal editorial on May 9 even complimented Strickler for preventing "a tragic gap in communications" by "keeping the lines open." A barrage of mail echoed those sentiments. Joy Peterson's letter was typical. "Your rapport with the disillusioned youth has given me new heart," she noted. "I feel strongly that they need leaders of your caliber to help them find a bridge to the establishment." (68)

Others were less pleased with Strickler's actions, and angry alumni and other U of L supporters from the silent majority lambasted him. Reacting negatively to a Courier-Journal photograph depicting a small group of bearded, barefoot, and shirtless students lounging in the grass and listening to memorial speakers, one critic asked whether he was the same Dr. Strickler "who allowed punks to take over his office and then [told] the Mayor that he had the situation under control?" James L. Simpson III, a 1962 graduate of the U of L Law School, expressed dismay at "the school' s policy of giving in to student unrest" and "with regret" informed Strickler that he would "withhold" his "financial support this year." "This brand of youth," another alumnus declared, "doles] not reflect any credit on the two diplomas issued to me from U of L. These idiots have placed education at the level of the gutter." (69)

The divergence of opinion over the war extended to politics and created some heated discussion among the state's leading Republicans. U.S. senator Thruston B. Morton, a native of the city, joined his influential counterpart, Senator John Sherman Cooper, early on in advocating American withdrawal from Vietnam, a position the former mayor of Louisville, U.S. representative William O. Cowger, severely criticized. Cowger accused Morton, a moderate Republican, of flip-flopping due to a growing "shift of public sentiment against the war." Analysts agreed, and Morton's 1967 turnaround became national news. Congressional colleagues considered the old national Republican Party chair (1959-1961) a "weathervane," a political professional, and a potential vice presidential candidate for the 1968 election. Gene Snyder, Louisville's other member of the House of Representatives, also became dovish, asserting in 1969 that America "ought to pack up and come home." (70)

In the wake of the violence at Kent State, more and more Americans, even in the South, came to agree with Snyder. For example, more than three thousand students and faculty applauded University of Virginia president Edgar F. Shannon Jr. at a Charlottesville rally in May 1970 when he derided Nixon's policies. A year later, more than two thousand protestors, led by sixty Vietnam veterans, disrupted the commemoration of the Lyndon Baines Johnson Library on the UT campus. Nixon and Johnson attended, while twelve hundred Texas highway patrolmen and Texas Rangers maintained order. Thirty-nine veterans tossed their medals over police lines toward the building. In April 1972 Fort Bliss GIs and other doves threw tomatoes at General Westmoreland during a base inspection. (71)

Louisville's antiwar effort grew ever more diverse and vocal, and by January 1973 many of the city's residents stood united against the war. A week before President Nixon concluded an agreement ending American involvement in Vietnam, a crowd estimated at twenty-five hundred, including parents and children, soldiers from Fort Knox, and the elderly, conducted a peace march through downtown in thirty-seven-degree weather. Called "A Walk for Conscience," the procession spanned nearly nine blocks, forcing motorists to wait thirty minutes to cross the busy intersection at Fourth and Market Streets. (72)

Clergy and Laity Concerned of Kentuckiana (CLCK), a branch of the national organization Clergy and Laymen Concerned About Vietnam (CALCAV), was among the most vigilant Louisville peace groups at the end of the war. Housed in the Heyburn building downtown, CLCK maintained two staff members and relied on donations and grants to augment its shoestring budget. In addition to the clerics, laypersons made up the steering committee, a diverse organizational structure that included blacks and representatives of labor groups. Many of Louisville's seasoned activists, including George Edwards, assumed leadership roles. (73)

By 1972 CALCAV claimed forty local chapters stretching from Biddeford, Maine, to San Diego, California. CLCK, one of six southern chapters, proved to be very productive and hosted one of CALCAV's two regional conferences, from which emerged the Honeywell campaign to expose U.S. corporate participation in Nixon's expanded air war. CALCAV's strategy was to show that Honeywell was "visibly immoral" because it profited from the bombing. Honeywell was best known for thermostats and camera equipment, but it was also the nation's leading producer of antipersonnel bombs. CLCK delighted in bringing this information to the public and used a variety of tactics to expose the company, including passing out leaflets, picketing Louisville camera shops, writing letters, underwriting informational segments on radio, and taking out ads in the Courier-Journal. Public reaction was strong, and in July 1972 the group's secretary excitedly wrote friends about the local response to the Honeywell campaign. "We have one 'Up Your Pinko Ass,' one 'You Dirty Commie Bastards,'" she declared, "and have received $85.00 in contributions from new folks from the ad." (74)

CLCK's actions did not go unnoticed. The FBI monitored both its Louisville activities and its participation in demonstrations in Washington, D.C. On one occasion, an agent interviewed a CLCK officer and then filed a report that said the organization was "controled" [sic] by the Socialist Workers Party and the Youth Socialist Alliance. On another, agents photographed several CLCK members being arrested in November 1971 for lying down on a rainy, "heavily guarded" White House driveway. For the most part, however, the bureau considered CLCK harmless. Louisville agents characterized its protests as "peaceful in nature" and concluded that the organization did not seem interested in the "overthrow of the United States Government." Although the peace group and its parent organization exposed the Honeywell connection to the unpopular air war, the company resisted consumer demands to stop weapons construction and simply phased out production because of the 1973 American withdrawal from Vietnam. (75)

In spring 1973 CLCK turned its attention to the amnesty issue and joined activists from various other Louisville organizations to form People for Amnesty, whose purpose was to secure "unconditional amnesty" for those individuals, both civilian and military, who "suffered or will suffer penalties because of their resistance to and protest against the war in Southeast Asia." The task was a difficult one. President Nixon opposed amnesty on any terms, and his successors Gerald Ford and Jimmy Carter pleased few with their amnesty programs. (76)

People for Amnesty held one of its first meetings at Suzy Post's house, and, as usual, the Bradens and George and Jean Edwards took up the cause. They also worked closely with the Louisville Exiles, none of whom believed that Ford's partial pardon or Carter's more general one went far enough. (77)

The group's members hoped that publicizing the issue would pressure Congress and the White House into enacting unconditional amnesty. Their tactics included large mailings designed to focus public sympathy on the plight of the Louisville Exiles. They also sought to help the exile community in Canada, and one project involved building a "simple house" on Sandy Sutton's Ontario farm. In the end, People for Amnesty mailed out several publications chronicling the stories of the Louisville Exiles and sponsored two conferences, one national and one local. The first conference was an accomplishment of national significance for the Louisville peace group. The meeting took place in early fall 1974, just weeks after President Ford announced his clemency program, and was one of the early gatherings for the recently established National Coalition for Universal and Unconditional Amnesty (NCUUA). (78)

The second conference took place months later in February 1975 at Louisville's First Unitarian Church and featured the return of two Louisville Exiles, Walter Davis and Joe Shumate. Both men reentered the U.S. based on a legal loophole; the Selective Service failed to mail the men the appropriate forms after they initially registered for CO status. Davis told the gathering that he and Shumate arrived in Louisville with mixed emotions since many of their compatriots could not return. "It still remains far easier for a draft dodger to get a legal reversal than it does for a deserter," Davis noted. "The fact that the draft dodger is usually the product of middle class America while the deserter is usually from a working class background explains why," he concluded. The press conference featuring Davis and Shumate may have been the high point for the Louisville peace advocates' fight for a universal and unconditional amnesty. Nationally, that moment arrived at the Democratic Party's 1976 national convention, where the NCUUA lobbied Carter's camp to push for amnesty. Eventually, the amnesty issue faded, not only because of Ford and Carter's programs but also because Americans wanted to forget about Vietnam. (79)

With Vietnam, however, "history," in C. Vann Woodward's words, had "begun to catch up with Americans," and the war would not go away. As Woodward noted, the South's defeat in the Civil War created a unique southern experience, making the region emblematic of the entire nation as Vietnam stripped away the country's sense of innocence and "invincibility." (80) Perhaps the entire nation came to grips with the idea of the Lost Cause and, as the U.S. sought national meaning and redemption, came to better understand why southerners, in an effort to exorcise their old demons, proudly sent more than their share to Southeast Asia. While Vietnam may have helped the nation understand the South's commitment to militarism, the conflict also stimulated the work of modern social justice activists like the Bradens, George Edwards, and Suzy Post. Though advocates of peace and progressive causes had always been a small minority in the South, this generation of activists was a vocal one, and a modern giant, Muhammad Ali, served as a symbol of its significance.

Many of the South's doves viewed opposition to the Vietnam War in moral and ethical terms. Consequently, the antiwar movement could not divorce itself from the issue of civil rights, especially as the practice of discrimination played out in the draft. As opponents of the conflict tackled the complex issues that drove the war machine, their coalitions became part of a broader effort to build a new South, despite the complications caused by the confluence of race, class, and southern traditionalism. Louisville activists confronted this divide, and even close friends like Anne Braden and George Edwards were not immune. Braden, driven by the race issue, joined moderates like Edwards, who dutifully grappled with the race problem, and both learned from Post, who confronted the class and gender dilemmas of her generation of women. Middle aged and white, the Bradens, Edwards, and Post stood on the frontlines of the antiwar movement. Their activism reflects the complexities of the movement that took place throughout the urban South and shows that the region's martial image requires some revision. Like their colleagues in other southern cities, Louisville's activists served as the conscience of the South and clashed with a silent majority that did not always remain silent.

(1) "Clay Plans to Apologize in Chicago for Remarks About Draft Classification," New York Times, February 22, 1966 (first quotation); Robert F. Sexton, ed., The Public Papers of Governor Louie B. Nunn, 1967-1971 (Lexington, Ky., 1975), 3-4, 186 (second and third quotations); Louie B. Nunn, interview by authors, March 13, 1998, Horse Cave, Ky. (hereinafter cited as Nunn interview). All interviews by the authors are part of the Kentuckians and Vietnam Oral History Project (hereinafter cited as KVOHP interviews). Upon the authors' completion of a book manuscript, all of the interviews will be reposed in Special Collections, Camden Carroll Library, Morehead State University, Morehead, Ky. We would like to thank James Klotter of Georgetown College, George Herring of the University of Kentucky, John Kleber of the University of Louisville, Tom Kiffmeyer of Morehead State University, and Stephen Wrinn of the University Press of Kentucky for their help in preparing this essay. We also would like to thank the archivists at the University of Louisville, East Tennessee State University, and the University of Kentucky, especially Terry Birdwhistell, Frank Stanger, and Jeffrey Suchanek.

(2) Nunn interview (first and second quotations); Joseph A. Fry, Dirie Looks Abroad: The South and U.S. Foreign Relations. 178-1973 (Baton Rouge, 2002), 261 (third and fourth quotations), 268; "Gallup Finds I of 4 Backs A-Bomb Use," New York Times, May 15, 1967; Owen W. Gilman Jr., Vietnam and the Southern Imagination (Jackson, Miss., 1992), 20-25: Harold G. Moore and Joseph L. Galloway, We Were Soldiers Once ... and Young: la Drang, the Battle that Changed the War In Vietnam (New York, 1992), 36; Julia D. Rather and Jeffrey Michael Duff, eds., Register of Vietnam War Casualties from Kentucky (Frankfort, Ky., 1988), vii; Lowell H. Harrison and James C. Klotter, A New History of Kentucky (Lexington, Ky., 1997), 413-14; William H. Chafe, The Unfinished Journey: America Since World War II (New York, 1986), 383 (fifth and sixth quotations). Our definition of the South includes the eleven states of the Confederacy plus Kentucky. The literature on southern identity is vast. See particularly Twelve Southerners, I'll Take My Stand: The South and the Agrarian Tradition (New York, 1930); W. J. Cash. The Mind the South (New York, 1941); Michael O'Brien, The Idea off the American South, 1920-1941 (Baltimore, 1979): Bertram Wyatt-Brown, Southern Honor: Ethics and Behavior in the Old South (New York. 1982); James C. Klotter, Kentucky Justice. Southern Honor, and American Manhood: Understanding the Life and Death of Richard Reid (Baton Rouge, 2003): Dan T. Carter, The Politics of Rage: George Wallace, the Origins of the New Conservatism, and the Transformation of American Politics (New York, 1995), 324-70; Numan V. Bartley, The New South, 1945-1980 (Baton Rouge, 1995), 393-408; and Dewey W. Grantham, The Life and Death of the Solid South: A Political History (Lexington, Ky., 1988), 175-76. See also James C. Cobb, Away Down South: A History of Southern Identity (New York, 2005), and Cobb, Redefining Southern Culture: Mind and Identity in the Modern South (Athens, Ga., 1999).

(3) James Webb, Fields of Fire (New York, 1978), 23-46, 72; James R. Wilson, Landing Zones: Southern Veterans Remember Vietnam (Durham, N.C., 1990), xii-xiii, 10, 28, 46, 69, 102, 147, 202; Gilman, Vietnam and the Southern Imagination, xi-44. Also see Myra MacPherson, Long Time Passing: Vietnam and the Haunted Generation (2nd ed., Bloomington, 2001), 76-84; Wallace Terry, ed., Bloods: An Oral History of the Vietnam War by Black Veterans (New York, 1984), 12, 38, 111, 112: and James Webb, Born Fighting: How the Scots-Irish Shaped America (New York, 2004), 9-20.

(4) Fry, Dixie Looks Abroad, 271-73, 276-82; Gregg L. Michel, Struggle for a Better South: The Southern Student Organizing Committee, 1964-1969 (New York, 2004), 190-98. General histories of the antiwar movement, including Terry H. Anderson, The Movement and the Sixties (New York, 1995), Charles DeBenedetti and Charles Chatfield, An American Ordeal: The Antiwar Movement of the Vietnam Era (New York, 1990), and Melvin Small, Antiwarriors: The Vietnam War amt the Battle for America's Hearts and Minds (Wilmington, Del., 2002), gloss over the South. Only a handful of works actually address southern war protest. See Stephen H. Wheeler, "'Hell No--We Won't Go Ya'll': Southern Student Opposition to the Vietnam War," in Mare Jason Gilbert, ed., The Vietnam War on Campus: Other Voices. More Distant Drums' (Westport, Conn., 2001): Stephen Eugene Parr, "The Forgotten Radicals: The New Left in the Deep South, Florida State University, 1960 to 1972" (Ph.D. dissertation, Florida State University, 2000); Reynolds Stewart Kieler. "Dissent in the Desert: The Vietnam Era Antiwar Movement in El Paso" (master's thesis, University of Texas at El Paso, 1997): and Craig Mury Keeney, "Resistance: A History of Anti-Vietnam War Protests in Two Southern Universities, 1966-1970" (master's thesis, University of South Carolina, 2003).

(5) Federal Writers Project, Military History of Kentucky (Frankfort, Ky., 1939), 406: John Shelton Reed, The Enduring South: Subcultural Persistence in Mass Society (Lexington, Mass., 1972), 14-16: Richard G. Stone Jr., A Brittle Sword: The Kentucky Militia, 1776-1912 (Lexington, Ky., 1977), 8-10, 12; Stone, Kentucky Fighting Men, 1861-1945 (Lexington, Ky., 1982), ix-l: John E. Kleber, ed., The Kentucky Encyclopedia (Lexington, Ky., 1992), 525-26.

(6) Merrill M. Hawkins Jr., Will Campbell: Radical Prophet of the South (Macon, Ga., 1997), 21, 30-31, 41, 176-81; Michel, Struggle for a Better South, 3, 107, 123.

(7) Bill Peterson, "Exiles by Choice," Louisville Courier-Journal, September 23, 1971; Anne Braden, interview by authors, August 20, 1999, Louisville, Ky., KVOHP interviews (hereinafter cited as Braden interview); Suzy Post, interview by authors, August 21, 1999, Louisville, Ky., KVOHP interviews (hereinafter cited as Post interview); Anne Braden, The Wall Between (2nd ed., Knoxville, 1999), 16-17, 31-32.

(8) "Nunn Asserts Cook 'Coddles' Agitators," Louisville Courier-Journal, May 7, 1967; Catherine Fosl, Subversive Southerner: Anne Braden and the Struggle for Racial Justice in the Cold War South (New York, 2002), 307; Braden, Wall Between, ix-xiv, 15-35; Michel, Struggle for a Better South, 13-16, 123-24.

(9) George Edwards, interview by authors, August 9, 1999, Louisville, Ky., KVOHP interviews (hereinafter cited as Edwards interview) (first, fourth, and fifth quotations); A Lifetime of Sharing (video documentary produced by the National Council of Churches and aired on the NBC television network. Ran twice in Louisville on Channel 19 in September 1997) (second and third quotations).

(10) Parr, "Forgotten Radicals," 120 (first quotation): MacPherson, Long Time Passing, 370 (second and third quotations); "Antiwar Student Leader Is Killed in Store in Austin," New York Times, July 24, 1967 (fourth quotation); Martin Waldron, "Liberals Accuse Houston's Police," ibid., November 3, 1970 (fifth quotation).

(11) Edwards interview.

(12) Ibid. (first quotation); Braden interview (second, third, fourth, and fifth quotations).

(13) MacPherson, Long Time Passing, 369-70 (first quotation); Stewart Alsop, "They Can't Go Home Again," Newsweek, July 20, 1970, p. 88 (second quotation); Lawrence M. Baskir and William A. Strauss, Chance and Circumstance: The Draft, the War and the Vietnam Generation (New York, 1978), 171-72.

(14) Braden interview (quotations); Post interview: Edwards interview; Peterson, "Exiles by Choice": Keeney, "Resistance," 106: David Cortright. Soldiers in Revolt: The American Military Today (Garden City, N.Y., 1975), 286.

(15) Braden interview (quotations); Post interview; FTA: Fun, Travel, Adventure, October 1969 (available on microfilm in the Underground Press Collections set, published by the ProQuest Company: consulted at the Harvey A. Andruss Library. Bloomsburg University, Bloomsburg, Pa.). microfilm, reel 35; Frank Ashley. "Muldraugh Coffeehouse Scene of Quiet Protest," Louisville Courier-Journal, October 16. 1969: Peterson, "Exiles by Choice."

(16) Quoted in "Coffee for the Army," Newsweek, August 26, 1968, p. 51 (first quotation); Cortright, Soldiers in Revolt, 53-56 (second quotation on p. 53); Roger Neville Williams, The New Exiles: American War Resisters in Canada (New York, 1971), 140-41; Braden interview; Gerald Nicosia, Home to War: A History of the Vietnam Veterans' Movement (New York, 2001), 41-44; Bill Peterson, "Viet Veteran Defends Coffeehouse as Muldraugh Eviction Trial Ends," Louisville Courier-Journal, September 26, 1969; Ashley, "Muldraugh Coffeehouse Scene of Quiet Protest"; Donald Janson, "Antiwar Coffeehouses Delight G.I.'s but Not Army," New York Times, August 12, 1968, Robert Christgau, "Military Personnel Will Not Participate in Any Activity Having to Do With Creating a Union for Enlisted Men: Oh yeah?" Esquire, August 1968, pp. 42, 45, 116: Earl Caldwell, "Army Acts to Close Coast Coffeehouse Where G.I.'s Relax Off Duty and Damn the War," New York Times, January 22, 1970; Kiefer, "Dissent in the Desert," 128, 147; Keeney, "Resistance," 51, 121.

(17) Cortright, Soldiers in Revolt, 53-56; Larry G. Waterhouse and Mariann G. Wizard, Turning the Guns Around: Notes on the GI Movement (New York, 1971), 82-84; Gerald Henry, "Muldraugh Anti-War Cafe Opens," Louisville Courier Journal, September 29, 1969, FTA: Fun, Travel, Adventure, August 1969, Underground Press Collections, reel 35.

(18) FTA: Fun. Travel, Adventure, Christmas 1968, reel 29, and March 1969, May 1969, June 1969, August 1969 (quotation), September 1969, October 1969, reel 35, Underground Press Collections: Bill Peterson, "Tempers Boil at Coffeehouse Hearing," Louisville Courier-Journal, September 25, 1969; "Coffeehouse Operators Ask U.S. Court Order," ibid., October 4, 1969; Jon Filiatreau and Guy Mendes. "Muldraugh and the Coffeehouse," blue-tail fly, October 15, 1969, in Publications for and by Students (Special Collections and Digital Programs, University of Kentucky Libraries, Lexington, Ky.); Cortright, Soldiers in Revolt, 283, 286-302; Keeney, "Resistance," 50: Flag-in-Action, November 1968, December 1968. Underground Press Collections, reel 29.

(19) Peterson, "Viet Veteran Defends Coffeehouse as Muldraugh Eviction Trial Ends" (quotations): FTA: Fun, Travel, Adventure, Christmas 1968, reel 29, and March 1969, May 1969, June 1969, August 1969, reel 35, Underground Press Collections; Henry, "Muldraugh Anti-War Cafe Opens"; Ben A. Franklin, "Antiwar Coffeehouse Vexes Town Near Fort Knox," New York Times, November 8, 1969.

(20) FTA: Fun. Travel. Adventure, October 1969, Underground Press Collections, reel 35 (quotation); Ashley, "Muldraugh Coffeehouse Scene of Quiet Protest."

(21) "Coffeehouse Operators Meet in Muldraugh," Louisville Courier-Journal, December 30, 1969 (quotations); Cortright, Soldiers in Revolt, 53-54; FTA: Fun, Travel, Adventure, October 1969, Underground Press Collections, reel 35; Telford Taylor, Nuremberg and Vietnam: An American Tragedy (Chicago, 1970), 163-65; Marilyn B. Young, The Vietnam Wars, 1945-1990 (New York, 1991), 204; Nicosia, Home To War, 22; Carolyn Yetter, "Former Officer Supports GI Coffeehouses," Louisville Cardinal, November 14, 1969; "Coffeehouse Benefit," ibid., February 13, 1970; "Barbara Dane to Sing Blues for GI Movement," ibid., February 26, 1971 (copies of the student newspaper the Cardinal are in University Records, University Archives and Records Center, University of Louisville, Louisville, Ky.).

(22) Donald Janson, "Antiwar Coffeehouses Delight G.I.'s but Not Army," New York Times, August 12, 1968 (first and second quotations): "Coffeehouse Owners Guilty in Carolina," ibid., April 28, 1970 (third quotation): "Students and Soldiers Protest Closing of Antiwar Coffeehouse," ibid., January 19, 1970: Doris B. Giles, "The Antiwar Movement in Columbia, South Carolina, 1965-1972," pp. 5, 18-19 (1987 seminar paper, South Caroliniana Library, University of South Carolina, Columbia); Keeney, "Resistance," 66-67.

(23) Peterson, "Tempers Boil at Coffeehouse Hearing" (quotations): "Council May Use New Ordinance to Bar Coffeehouse in Muldraugh," Louisville Courier-Journal, September 24, 1969; "Meade Judge Grants Coffeehouse Eviction," ibid., October 2, 1969: "Operators Say 2 Jugs Tossed into Muldraugh Coffeehouse," ibid., October 10, 1969; Bill Peterson, "4 Jailed for Contempt in Coffeehouse Battle," ibid., November 1, 1969; James Nolan, "Coffeehouse 6 Indicted Again at Muldraugh," ibid., February 25, 1970; John Finley, "Muldraugh Coffeehouse Will Close and All Charges Will Be Dropped," ibid., July 18, 1970; FTA: Fun, Travel, Adventure, September 1969, Underground Newspaper Collections, reel 35.

(24) Chafe, Unfinished Journey, 324; Bill Peterson, "Without Fee or Fear," Louisville Courier Journal, July 17, 1970; "KCLU Seeks New Site," ibid., October 15, 1969; Keeney, "Resistance," 62; William Shepard McAninch, "The UFO," South Carolina Law Review, 46 (Winter 1995), 372-73, 376.

(25) Post interview (first, fourth--eleventh, and thirteenth quotations); Barbara L. Tischler, "The Refiner's Fire: Anti-War Activism and Emerging Feminism in the Late 1960s," in Gilbert, ed., Vietnam War on Campus, 56; Ruth Rosen, "The Day They Buried 'Traditional Womanhood': Women and the Politics of Peace Protest," Vietnam Generation, 1 (Summer-Fall 1989), 208-34 (second and third quotations on p. 208); Amy Swerdlow, Women Strike for Peace: Traditional Motherhood and Radical Politics in the 1960s (Chicago, 1993), 1-5 (twelfth quotation on p. 1); William H. Chafe, 771e Paradox of Change: American Women in the 20th Century (New York, 1991), 121-93.

(26) Bryan Woolley, "War Foes March, Head for Capital," Louisville Courier-Journal, November 14, 1969 (quotations); Suzy Post to Palmer N. Baken, Federal Bureau of Investigation, November 18, 1969, FBI File Book, Kentucky Civil Liberties Union Records (University Archives and Records Center, University of Louisville); Post interview.

(27) Braden interview (first and second quotations); Bryan Woolley, "Spock Spanks Nixon, Older Generation," Louisville Courier-Journal, December 6, 1969 (third quotation); "Dr. Spock, in Louisville, Calls U.S. 'Police State,'" ibid., December 7, 1969 (fourth and fifth quotations); Braden, Wall Between; Post interview; Edwards interview.

(25) Milton S. Katz, "Peace Liberals and Vietnam: SANE and the Politics of 'Responsible' Protest," in Walter L. Hixson, ed., The Vietnam Antiwar Movement (New York, 2000), 57-58; Post interview (quotations); Swerdlow, Women Strike for Peace, 137-41.

(29) Braden interview (quotation): Jackson Sellers, "Doves, Hawks Parade Peacefully in Louisville," Louisville Courier-Journal, October 22, 1967: "Group Plans War Protest in Capital," ibid., January 14, 1967: "Church Group Plans "Silent' Peace Walk," ibid., June 28, 1969; "War Protestors Seek to Enlist Black Support," Louisville Defender, October 2, 1969; Jean Coady, "While Others Stayed Home but Joined in the Protest," Louisville Courier-Journal, January 24, 1973; "Clergy and Laymen Concerned Kentuckiana Newsletter," April-May 1972, Box 1, David Banks/Clergy and Laity Concerned of Kentuckiana Collection (University Archives and Records Center, University of Louisville).

(30) Kiefer, "Dissent in the Desert," 10-11, 40-51 (first quotation on p. 49); "Negroes and Police Scuffle in Atlanta," New York Times, August 19, 1966; "Tennessee Fines War Critic," ibid., March 17, 1967; Michel, Struggle for a Better South, 144; Keeney, "Resistance," 42-43 (second quotation on p. 43); "Westmoreland Hails Negro G.I.," New York Times, April 27, 1967: Giles, "Antiwar Movement in Columbia, South Carolina," 6-7.

(31) Kiefer, "Dissent in the Desert," 4243 (first quotation on p. 43); Joseph A. Fry, "A Martial South? Individual Southern Responses to War in Vietnam," paper presented at the Society for Historians of American Foreign Relations, June 2004, University of Texas, Austin (copy of paper in authors" possession; second quotation); MacPherson, Long Time Passing, 461 (third and fourth quotations), 462 (filth quotation).

(32) Michel, Struggle for a Better South, 18-19, 200: "Students Protest on Texas Campus," New York Times, April 27, 1967 (first quotation); "151 at U. of Texas Ask Bombing Halt," ibid., March 5, 1967; "Moratorium Backers See Nixon Reaction," ibid., October 17. 1969; Keeney, "Resistance," 87-107 (second quotation on p. 87); Parr, "Forgotten Radicals," vi-vii (third quotation); Sylvan Fox, "Protests Across Country Close Weekend of Tribute to Dr. King," New York Times. April 7, 1969.

(33) Braden interview (quotations); Bill Peterson, "Judge Orders Verdict of Not Guilty, Ending Black Six Conspiracy Trial," Louisville Courier-Journal, July 8, 1970; John Filiatreau, "Five Years Later," ibid., June 3, 1973.

(34) Edwards interview (first, second, and third quotations); Bill Peterson, "In Memory: Tribute to Dr. King a Mixture of Old Hopes, New Anger," Louisville Courier-Journal, April 5, 1969 (fourth-twelfth quotations).

(35) Wheeler, "'Hell No--We Won't Go, Ya'll,'" 155-56 (quotation on p. 156).

(36) Herbert Shapiro, "The Vietnam War and the American Civil Rights Movement," Journal of Ethnic Studies. 16 (Winter 1989), 127; Jeff Woods, Black Struggle. Red Scare: Segregation and Anti-Communism in the South. 1948-1968 (Baton Rouge, 2004), 227-29, 233 35,241-43: Braden, Wall Between, 244, 253, 278, 284-85; Wheeler, "'Hell No--We Won't Go, Ya'll,'" 152 54; Simon Hall, "The Response of the Moderate Wing of the Civil Rights Movement to the War in Vietnam," Historical Journal, 46 (September 2003), 673-75.

(37) Michel, Struggle for a Better South, 13-17, 30-31, 142, 189-226; Wheeler, "'Hell No--We Won't Go, Ya'll,'" 153; David Doggett, "New Spirit in Old Dixie," Folder 10, Box 2, David Morris Collection #321 (Archives of Appalachia, East Tennessee State University, Johnson City, Tenn.) (quotation): "Getting the Word Out," April 18, 1967, Folder 12, Box 2, ibid.; Appalachian Student Press. March 1969, p. 11, Folder 5, Box 2, ibid.: James Rowan to Members of Steering Committee Against Repression. Folder 6, Box 3, ibid.: Ann Johnson to Key Contact, October 10, 1968, Folder 13, Box 2, ibid.: Bob Malone and Pam Gwin, "Letter From the Southern Movement News Service (SMNS)," Folder 8. Box 2, ibid.: New South Student, January 1969," Folder 16, Box 2, ibid.

(38) "Inauguration Mobilization," Folder 6, Box 3, Morris Collection (quotation); "Southern Student Organizing Committee Inauguration Mailing, January 11, 1969," Folder 10, Box 5, ibid.; SSOC Movement Center Inauguration Poster, Folder 10, Box 5, ibid.; Michel, Struggle for a Better South, 194.

(39) Michel, Struggle for a Better South, 189-95 (first quotation on p. 190, second, third, and fourth quotations on p. 193, seventh quotation on p. 194): "Some Thoughts on Being Dumped on as a Southerner or on Being Niggered or White is Beautiful," Folder 23, Box 2, Morris Collection (fifth and sixth quotations); "On the History Conference," Folder 23, Box 2, ibid.

(40) Michel, Struggle for a Better South, 189-226 (quotation on p. 189).

(41) Shapiro, "'Vietnam War and the American Civil Rights Movement," 132 33, 136: Jack D. Foner, Blacks and the Military in American History." A New Perspective (New York, 1974), 202-13: Ashley, "'Muldraugh Coffeehouse Scene of Quiet Protest" (quotations); Bill Peterson, "Controversy Swirls Around Draft Board 47," Louisville Courier-Journal, November 9, 1969.

(42) "Draft Board 47 Classes Julius Price as l-A," Louisville Defender, December 11, 1969 (first quotation): Peterson, "Controversy Swirls Around Draft Board 47" (second quotation); Peterson, "'Judge Orders Verdict of Not Guilty, Ending Black Six Conspiracy Trial"; "West End Council to Hold Public Community Workshops," Louisville Defender, November 6, 1969; Vincent Crowdus, "Louisville Patrolman ls Reinstated by Board," Louisville Courier-Journal, May 24, 1968; "Guard Ordered to Riot Duty as West End Looting Flares," ibid., May 28, 1968: Paul M. Branzburg, "'Bystanders Dislike Violence, but "It Might Get Us Recognition,'" ibid., May 30, 1968: "Southern Student Organizing Committee Key List Mailing," Folder 13, Box 2, Morris Collection: John Filiatreau, "Five Years Later," Louisville Courier-Journal, June 3, 1970; Anderson, Movement and the Sixties, 168-69, 193: Chafe, Unfinished Journey, 367; Bartley, New South, 362.

(43) James E. Westheider, Fighting on Two Fronts: African Americans and the Vietnam War (New York. 1997), 24-28 (quotation on p. 25): Peterson, "Controversy Swirls Around Draft Board 47"; Anderson, Movement and the Sixties, 158-59; Christian G. Appy, Working-Class War: American Combat Soldiers and Vietnam (Chapel Hill, 1993), 48; Baskir and Strauss, Chance and Circumstance, 99-100; Shapiro, "Vietnam War and the American Civil Rights Movement," 118; William Drummond, "More Negroes Sought on Draft Boards," Louisville Courier-Journal, May 25, 1967; Bill Peterson, "7 Negroes on Draft Boards in State; More Held Needed," ibid., February 24, 1968. In 1967, 2 of Kentucky's 680 draft board members were black. In 1968 the state appointed 5 more African Americans. Ibid.

(44) Peterson, "Controversy Swirls Around Draft Board 47"; James S. Tunnell, "Mulloy Conviction Voided: Draft Rules May Be Redrawn," Louisville Courier-Journal, June 16, 1970; Braden interview; Joe Mulloy, interview by Thomas Kiffmeyer, November 10, 1990, Huntington, W.Va., in the War on Poverty in Appalachia Oral History Project (Special Collections and Digital Programs, University of Kentucky Libraries), hereinafter cited as Mulloy interview; Thomas J. Kiffmeyer, "'From Self-Help to Sedition: The Appalachian Volunteers in Eastern Kentucky, 1964-1970," Journal of Southern History, 64 (February 1998), 65-94; Thomas J. Kiffmeyer, "From Self-Help to Sedition: The Appalachian Volunteers and the War on Poverty in Eastern Kentucky, 1964-1970" (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Kentucky, 1998), 373-74; FTA: Fun, Travel, Adventure, October 1969, Underground Press Collections, reel 35.

(45) Memorandum Supplement on Kentucky Conference on the War and the Draft," Federal Bureau of Investigation, Louisville. Kentucky, February 23. 1968, FBI File Book, Kentucky Civil Liberties Union Records: Christina Greene, "'We'll Take Our Stand': Race, Class, and Gender in the Southern Student Organizing Committee, 1964 1969," in Virginia Bernhard et al., eds., Hidden Histories of Women in the New South (Columbia, Mo., 1994). 193: "Joe Mulloy Refuses Induction," Folder 13, Box 2, Morris Collection: Thomas Hauser, Muhammad Ali: His Life and Times (New York. 1991), 190-91; Braden interview: Post interview: Mulloy interview (quotation); Tunnell, "Mulloy Conviction Voided; Draft Rules May Be Redrawn"; "Peace Council Joins Mulloy Draft Plea," Louisville Courier-Journal, February 22, 1968: "Mulloy Balks At Induction: U.S. to Act," ibid., February 27. 1968.

(46) Baskir and Strauss, Chance and Circumstance, 78-80; Michael S. Foley, Confronting the War Machine: Draft Resistance During the Vietnam War (Chapel Hill, 2003), 328-31.

(47) Clayborne Carson et al., eds., The Eves on the Prize Civil Rights Reader: Documents, Speeches, and Firsthand Accounts from the Black Freedom Struggle, 1954-1990 (New York, 1991), 458-59.

(48) John Hagan, Northern Passage: American Viemam War Resisters in Canada (Cambridge, Mass., 2001), 3; Peterson, "Exiles by Choice" (quotations).

(49) Hagan, Northern Passage, 3; Larry Werner, "Area Resisters Criticize Amnesty Plan," Louisville Courier-Journal, September 17, 1974" Peterson, "Exiles by Choice."

(50) Peterson, "Exiles by Choice."

(51) People for Amnesty, Louisville Exiles: Who They Are. Why They Left (unpaginated pamphlet published in Louisville, Ky., April 1974: in authors' possession): Baskir and Strauss, Chance and Circumstance. 183-85: Media List #1 South, Folder 1, Box 2, Morris Collection; New South Student, May 1966, Folder 16, Box 2, ibid.: Draft Counseling, University of Tennessee, Folder 7, Box 3, ibid.; Braden interview: Post interview; Mulloy interview.

(52) Joe Shumate, in People for Amnesty, Louisville Exiles (quotations); "Peace Council Joins Mulloy Draft Plea"; Braden interview; Mulloy interview.

(53) Peterson, "Exiles by Choice" (first and second quotations): Sandy Sutton, in People for Amnesty, Louisville Exiles (third, fourth, and fifth quotations).

(54) Sandy Sutton, in People for Amnesty, Louisville Exiles (quotations); James Dickerson, North to Canada: Men and Women Against the Vietnam War (Westport, Conn., 1999), 110, 116; Hagan, Northern Passage, l-2; Williams, New Exiles, 150-51.

(55) Peterson, "Exiles by Choice."

(56) Ibid.

(57) Dickerson, North to Canada, 23-26. 179-81, 23 (first, second, and third quotations): Karl Fleming, "America's Sad Young Exiles." Newsweek, February 15, 1971, p. 29 (fourth quotation).

(58) Peterson, "Exiles by Choice": Bill Peterson, "And Some Who Left Rather Than Serve," Louisville Courier-Journal, January 24, 1973; Hagan, Northern Passage, 66-98; People for Amnesty. Update on Louisville Exiles (unpaginated pamphlet published in Louisville, Ky., May 1975: in authors' possession) (quotation).

(59) Bill Peterson, "When Principles Collide: U of L Student Puts Long Hair Over Basketball Letter," Louisville Courier-Journal, February 19, 1970 (quotations); Peterson, "Exiles by Choice"; People for Amnesty, Louisville Exiles.

(60) "Vietcong Flag Burned," New York Times, May 22, 1967; "Texas War Foe, 19, Gets 4 Years for Burning Flag," ibid., June 26, 1970.

(61) Joan Riehm, "War Foe Refused Hearing at School Board Meeting," Louisville Courier Journal, September 24, 1968 (first and second quotations); Bryan Woolley, "Spook Spanks Nixon, Older Generation," ibid., December 6, 1969 (third, fourth, and fifth quotations); Jackson Sellers, "Doves, Hawks Parade Peacefully in Louisville," ibid., October 22, 1967; Clyde F. Crews, "Hallowed Ground: The Cathedral of the Assumption in Louisville History," Filson Club History Quarterly, 51 (July 1977), 249-61.

(62) Fry, Dixie Looks Abroad, 271 (first quotation): Rod Larmee. "UL SDS Demonstrators Meet With Eggs and Water Balloons." Louisville Cardinal, November 19, 1965 (second and third quotations); "UL Students to Back Viet Efforts with Cash," Louisville Courier-Journal, December 10. 1965 (fourth and fifth quotations); Dwayne D. Cox and William J. Morison, The University of Louisville (Lexington, Ky., 1999), 147.

(63) Kate Barry, "Corningware or Napalm? Students Protest Viet Nam War at UL Careers Exposition," Louisville Cardinal, January 5, 1968: Paul Bergner, "Draft Counseling: Draft Seminar Informs UL Students about Laws (from 2-S to Prison)," ibid., December 13, 1968; "Ft. Knox GIs Rebel against System, Publish Underground Newspaper," ibid., September 27, 1968: Rick Northern and Mary Lou Grundy, "Drugs at UL: Students Get High with a Little Help from Their Friends," ibid., October 3, 1969.

(64) Woodrow M. Strickler Curriculum Vitae, Folder 2, Woodrow Mann Strickler Biographical File: 1950-1969, University of Louisville and Regional History Reference Files (University Archives and Records Center, University of Louisville); Carolyn Yetter, "UL Students, Faculty Push for Peace," Louisville Cardinal, October 17, 1969 (second quotation); Cass Harris, "Did It Do Any Good?" ibid.; "Moratorium in Louisville Often a War of Words," Louisville Courier-Journal, October 16, 1969 (first quotation).

(65) Small, Antiwarriors, 123 (quotation); "Guard, Police on UK Campus as Long as Needed--Nunn," Lexington Leader, May 7, 1970; Mitchell K. Hall, "'A Crack in Time': The Response of Students at the University of Kentucky to the Tragedy at Kent State, May 1970," Register of the Kentucky Historical Society, 83 (Winter 1985), 50-54; Larry Werner, "U of L Stays Peaceful in Day-Long Memorial," Louisville Courier-Journal, May 8, 1970; Nunn interview; "Rioting at Colleges Spreads," New York Times, May 8, 1970: Anderson, Movement and the Sixties, 350.

(66) Statement by Woodrow M. Strickler, May 6, 1970, Folder 41, Box 5, Personal and Professional Files, Speeches by Strickler, Woodrow Mann Strickler Papers (University Archives and Records Center, University of Louisville) (first and second quotations); Werner, "U of L Stays Peaceful in Day-Long Memorial" (third quotation); Edward Bennett, "'200 Join in Restrained Protest at U of L," Louisville Times, May 7, 1970 (fourth and fifth quotations); Dianne Aprile, "UL Memorial Rally Honors Kent Students," Louisville Cardinal, May 17. 1970.

(67) Kiefer, "Dissent in the Desert," 110. 118, 156-57 (first and second quotations), 158 (third quotation).

(68) "Lines Are Open on Belknap Campus," Louisville Courier-Journal, May 9, 1970 (first and second quotation); Joy Peterson to Woodrow Strickler, May 12, 1970 (third and fourth quotations), Box 59, President's Office Files, University Records (University Archives and Records Center, University of Louisville), hereinafter cited as President's Office Files.

(69) Cecil H. Meeks to Woodrow Strickler, May 8, 1970, Box 59, President's Office Files (first quotation); James L. Simpson III to Woodrow M. Strickler, May 8, 1970, ibid. (second, third, fourth, and fifth quotations); Stelio Z. lmprescia to Woodrow M. Strickler, May 7, 1970, ibid. (sixth and seventh quotations); John W. Payne to Woodrow Strickler, May 11, 1970, ibid.; Herbert L. Segal to Woodrow Strickler, May 8, 1970, ibid.; "Students Back U of L President," Louisville Courier-Journal, May 7, 1970; Bennett, "200 Join in Restrained Protest at U of L"; Werner, "U of L Stays Peaceful in Day-Long Memorial."

(70) Bill Billiter, "Cowger Differs Sharply with Morton on War," Louisville Courier-Journal, September 30, 1967 (first quotation); William Conrad Gibbons, The U.S. Government and the Vietnam War, Executive and Legislative Roles and Relationships, Part IV: July 1965 January 1968 (Princeton, 1995), 829 (second quotation); "Viet Disengagement Supported by Snyder," Louisville Courier-Journal, June 8, 1969 (third quotation); Rod Wenz, "Morton Flies Between Doves, Hawks," ibid., September 25, 1967; Paul Janensch, "Morton Asks End to Raids, Says Johnson "Brainwashed,'" ibid., September 28, 1967: "Morton: Own Conviction Led to Shift on War," ibid., October 3, 1967: William Greider, "Vietnam in a Kentucky Mirror," ibid., October 8, 1967; Kleber, Kentucky Encyclopedia, 656.

(71) "Virginian's War View," New York Times, May 11, 1970: Martin Waldron, "Nixon Hails Johnson Library at Dedication," ibid., May 23, 1971: Martin Arnold, "Campus Protests on War Continue," ibid., April 22, 1972.

(72) David Holt, "Louisville Marchers Protest Continuation of Vietnam War," Louisville Courier-Journal, January 21, 1973.

(73) "Minutes of the "Interim Steering Committee for Kentuckyana [sic] Clergy and Laymen Concerned.'" June 6, 1971, Clergy and Laymen Planning Committee (hereinafter cited as CLPC), 1971 1973, Box 1: "Clergy and Laymen Concerned Treasurer's Report as of December 10, 1971," CLPC, 1971 1973, Box 1: "Minutes of the February Meeting of the Steering Committee of Clergy and Laity Concerned," February 21, 1972, CLPC, 1971-1973, Box 1; "Minutes from Steering Committee," June 27, 1972, CLPC, 1971-1973, Box 1; "Minutes of the January Meeting of the Steering Committee of Clergy and Laity Concerned," January 17, 1973, CLPC, 1971-1973, Box 1; Laverne Thorpe to "friend," September 14, 1971, Daily Death Toll Project, Box 1; David Banks to Trudi, September 11, 1972, CLPC, 1971-1973, Box 1, all of the above in David Banks/Clergy and Laity Concerned of Kentuckiana Collection; "Clergy and Laymen Concerned of Kentuckiana (CLCK) Internal Security--New Left," January 3, 1972, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Folder 9, Box 2, Clergy and Laymen Concerned About Vietnam #91M1 (Special Collections and Digital Programs, University of Kentucky Libraries).

(74) Mitchell K. Hall, Beeause of Their Faith: CALCA V and Religious Opposition to the Vietnam War (New York, 1990), 134 (first quotation); Laverne Thorpe to Trudi and Gerry, July 26, 1972, Honeywell Project-Minutes and Time Lines, Box 1 (second and third quotations); Honeywell Campaign Organizing Manual (New York: Clergy and Laymen Concerned, April 1972), 19-20, in Honeywell File, Box 1; "Honeywell Campaign Report," 1973, CLPC, 1971-1973, Box 1, three preceding items in David Banks/Clergy and Laity Concerned of Kentuckiana Collection. CALCAV chapters operated in Knoxville, Dallas, Fort Worth, Houston, and Greenville, South Carolina.

(75) "Anti War Demonstrations," Fall 1971, Memorandum, Federal Bureau of Investigation, November 22, 1971, Folder 9, Box 2, Clergy and Laymen Concerned About Vietnam (first quotation): "Clergy and Laymen Concerned of Kentuckiana (CLCK)," 1971, Folder 9, Box 2, ibid. (second quotation); "Clergy and Laymen Concerned (CALC), aka Clergy and Laymen Concerned About Vietnam Is--RA," Memorandum, Federal Bureau of Investigation, September 12, 1972, Folder 10, Box 2, ibid. (third and fourth quotations); "Clergy and Laymen Concerned (CALC), aka Clergy and Laymen Concerned About North Vietnam Is--New Left," Memorandum, Federal Bureau of Investigation, February 23, 1972, Folder 9, Box 2, ibid.; Hall, Because of Their Faith, 151-52.

(76) "A Tentative Position Statement of People for Amnesty," 1973, Folder 7, Box 3, David Banks/Clergy and Laity Concerned of Kentuckiana Collection (quotations): "Notes from the March 24th Meeting," 1973, Folder 7, Box 3, ibid.; Baskir and Strauss, Chance and Circumstance, 222-35; Hagan, Northern Passage. 155, 161-79: United States Presidential Clemency Board, Report to the President (Washington, D.C., 1975).

(77) Werner, "Area Resisters Criticize Amnesty Plan": "Notes from the March 24th Meeting," 1973, Folder 7, Box 3, David Banks/Clergy and Laity Concerned of Kentuckiana Collection.

(78) "Notes from the March 24th Meeting," 1973, Folder 7, Box 3, David Banks/Clergy and Laity Concerned of Kentuckiana Collection (quotation); People for Amnesty, Louisville Exiles; People for Amnesty, Update on Louisville Exiles; Hagan, Northern Passage, 163.

(79) People for Amnesty, Update on Louisville Exiles (quotations); Hagan, Northern Passage, 178.

(80) C. Vann Woodward, The Burden of Southern History (3rd ed., Baton Rouge, 1993), 3-25, 214-33 (first and second quotations on p. 214; third quotation on p. 216).

MR. ERNST is a professor of history at Morehead State University. Ms. BALDWIN is a professor of history at Morehead State University.