This post is a last minute addition, so to speak. In regards to the documentary and talk, it was put up after the other lectures so it wasn't originally part of my itinerary. Also, there was a lecture last March that I neglected to ever write about, which does happen. I was trying to go through Bicentennial Bingo, and didn't even get half-way through it, which is just one of many examples. So, I will be combining both events on Kennard into one post, though I will try not to make it too long. This is part of the lectures/events that I'll be attending this month in honour of Black History Month. We'll first talk about the lecture last March. There were three, but I only attended that first one, "Letters to the Editor: Clyde Kennard's Public Appeals for Justic". I was sad to not be able to make it to the other two and is probably why I did not know the full story about Clyde Kennard. I say that, because I had a completely different idea about the end of his story and was surprised to learn that wasn't true. Was it just not mentioned and my mind found its own conclusion, or did I somehow miss that critical piece of information? It's not like that last bit couldn't have happened. We'll preface by saying that I've always enjoyed learning. I really do want to learn all the things; the good as well as the bad. I want to know what has made this world, this country, this state where I reside what it is today. I'm also angry if I find out that information has been kept from me. I do not have to be an expert, by any means, on any one subject, but I do wish to know the basic facts; all the basic facts. I've realized in my adult years that my education was quite lacking. If I hadn't had the thirst for knowledge that I had I would be content to sit at home and think that George Washington had wooden teeth, that King George III was a terrible and tyranical monster, and I would probably believe that the Indigenous Peoples of North America had been wiped out by the "glorious" white conquerors... I would still be completely unaware of Clyde Kennard or Emmett Till or Whorlest Jackson or Fannie Lou Hamer; all of which are people having something to do with the Civil Rights movement in my very state. I'd never even heard of these people until the last few years when I started attending various lectures in my town, because my town was actually having lectures. And though Emmett Till was not a Mississippian, he was down here to visit family who lived here. His murder and the fact that his mother showed his corpse spurred The Civil Rights movement. I'd heard of Rosa Parks, everyone has, but she continually defied the bus segregation because of Emmett Till's murder, which I hadn't known until quite recently. I thought I had a pretty decent overview knowledge of The Civil Rights, and even so, I wanted to learn more. Having the opportunity to expand my view I gladly jumped at the chance, however, I was honestly shocked that I didn't know anything at all really. To find that you have a 1% knowledge instead of the 20 - 25% knowledge is shocking and disheartening. I know that there are people, who were adults at the time who were either directly or indirectly responsible and people that feel the same as them that do not wish this information to come to light. I just didn't realize so many of those people still existed. However, I think, if people are like my parents, then they are sympathetic but ignorant. My own parents would relate certain figures to me, but not any details. "Medgar Evers, it's so tragic and sad what happened to him." "That was Vernon Dahmer's store. It's so sad, his murder." "It was terrible learning the news of Martin Luther King Jr's death." This was all I got growing up. They wouldn't tell me what happened to these people and though King and Evers were glanced over in school, so I did learn somewhat what happened to them, it took a lecture to know what transpired with Dahmer and knowing about anyone else. And when I related seeing the Jim Lucas photo's and mentioning all the events that I never knew happened in Neshoba County, my parents again drew emotionally distraught faces, the kind where they really felt terrible sadness at the event all those years ago in their teens and said, "I remember that. What happened to those kids... So terrible. I don't want to relive that. I don't want to talk about it." And they didn't. They don't want to go to any of these lectures with me and they didn't want to see those photos. They'd already lived through it and there was nothing more to say. Only there is a lot to say. They were teenagers at the time, listening to random and scattered news sources of a picture that wouldn't fully come to light for decades. They also were not living in that community and were not involved or knew anyone involved. There is SO much more to know! Besides the fact that younger generations like myself will have absolutely no knowledge of this. Those people will have died and no one will remember. They won't know that they died, much less why they died. My parents didn't even realize exactly what anyone was doing down here, until I enlightened them after a lecture. So, I always feel slighted. Why didn't I know about this?!? Why wasn't this taught in school?!? Why weren't my parents telling me about it?!? I feel incensed when it's an issue that happened somewhere else, but I'm really upset when it's something to do with my own state or my hometown. THIS I should definitely have known about! And we come to Clyde Kennard, a resident here and a person of The Civil Rights directly involved with the university my entire family went to and not one of us knew who he was. I found it shameful and sad. Apparently I'm not the only one to feel this way. The guest lecturer, Dr. Curtis Austin, found himself at USM (The University of Southern Mississippi), and sort of accidentally stumbled upon information about Kennard. He then co-founded The Center for Black Studies on campus and researched a lot into Kennards life. The Freedom50 Research Group also learned about Kennard and learned all they could, wanting to tell his story, and thus we have the culmination of their two years of work; three lectures and a small documentary with plans for expansion. So, my notes from last years lecture.
After returning from Korea he enrolled in the University of Chicago. His stepfather passed away before he was finished with school, so he moved back here to help his mother with the farm. He wanted to continue his education as he had been in his last year, so he tried to gain admittance to the whites only USM in the late 1950s. He was continually denied admittance from then University President McCain, who now has a library named after him on campus. He would correspond with the President and come to the campus to meet with him about enrollment. Was so determined to attend the school that he lived closest to and to dismantle the sickness of segregation that he wrote letters to the editor of the local paper, The Hattiesburg American. Dr. Austin stated that it was sheer luck that Kennard's letters were printed, not even one, but all three letters. During Kennards time of trying to enroll, Austin listed the other struggles that were happening just prior to, or at the same time in Mississippi. The Murder of Emmet Till (Money, 1955), the Gladys Noel Bates vs the State of Mississippi trial (Jackson, 1948 - salary discrimination of black teachers/principles), the murder of Rev. George Lee (Belzoni, 1955), the murder of Lamar Smith (Brookhaven, 1955). Besides wanting the school integrated for his own needs; having served his country with honour... twice and wanting to continue his GI Bill education at the school practically in his own front yard, he was also doing it for younger generations. Specifically he looked at Mrs. Dahmer's baby daughter and is quoted as saying, "I'm doing this for her." Brown vs the Board of Education was already passed in 1954. They had to put it through again because schools in the south were refusing to integrate. Kennard didn't try to enroll until 1956 and on into 1959, so he shouldn't have even had to fight for this. And that's all I had. That was all of my notes. Somehow I believed that he did attain his goal and was admitted to USM. I was incorrect in somehow piecing that together in my mind. His end is tragic. Bitter-sweet because he did accomplish his goal, but still it's tragic. There is still always some to learn. Someone might think, as my family did, that I'd already been to a lecture, so why go to this? I had not seen a documentary on him, and what if there was information that I still did not know? And I was right! Not merely the ending of his short life, which I hadn't realized before, but the documentary featured interviews from people that had known him. They were also in the audience and there was more for them to say. It would have been a shame to have missed this. The documentary was only 15 minutes long and for several reasons. 1) The Freedom50 Research Group was only given two years and a set fund for the project. The time and the money have come to a close. 2) It's not easy to glean information or actual tangible things about Mr. Kennard. 3) They wanted to do a basic overview, something that be easy and unboring to watch for students, because they plan that this is shown during the Freshman Experience week at USM. That was my thought right before they explained it, that it should be shown to the freshmen during their intro week at the university. It was also suggested that they talk with the Mississippi PBS station in order to get it aired. I thought that was a fabulous idea too. They also talked about Ole Miss. They have a website dedicated to James Meredith, who was the first African American admitted into Ole Miss (or any higher education, whites only, institute in Mississippi) in 1962. There's already information there, but anything new can be added to the site. So, a class doing research on him can use the information or add their project to the site. As for a Kennard site, more could be added to the documentary at a later date, with funding, which they hope to receive. I didn't know about the site on Meredith and think that's great and a site for Kennard associtated with this university would be great as well. As far as the documentary, which was really well done, it focused more on his time in Mississippi, so nothing of his military career was included except to say that he fought in Korea. There is a shot of land, where his actual home and farm were and a shot of his grave located in a cemetery in the same community to end the film. In between, however, I learned more about him trying to enroll and how that all went down. So, it was already discussed that President McCain was not a great guy. Perhaps he was onpar for the time period and nothing out of the ordinary, but he certainly wasn't a compassionate or outstanding person in the least. Besides simply refusing admittance to Kennard, he along with other high officiating white people (judges, lawyers, the law) had Kennard arrested on two false charges of reckless driving and possession of alcohol in a dry county, with the last being the theft of chicken feed. This sent him to Parchman. I don't know that much about Parchman except the basic fact that is was terrible and scary and anything you might imagine as horrible from the 1930s of prison people that was Parchment. Or Parchman Farm Penitentiary as that was it's full title, though today it is called Mississippi State Penitentiary. Basically growing up in Mississippi you always heard about Parchman, so just the mention of the name elicits a fear in you. You don't need to know anything else but the name to know that was the worst thing to happen to a person. So, of course during that part my eyes widened considerably. Only it wasn't the worst thing to happen to Clyde Kennard. His story gets worse. Parchman was a chain gang farm; workers all shackled together to work outside. You worked until you died basically. Even if you were too ill to work you weren't too ill for the overseers and prison guards. Which was the case with Kennard. They worked him in a chain gang and when he was too ill, he was still forced to work. When the white men finally decided he was too ill to work then you know it was bad. They took him to a hospital in Jackson where he was diagnosed with cancer. He was still forced to work and only pressure of "This will look really bad if we let this man die" helped ensure his released in 1961. He left with his sister for Chicago and died of cancer on 4. July. 1963. It's so terrible! Words don't even describe how terrible this is. Besides any of the era simply being a human being, a citizen of this country, some of whom helped to fight to defend it during wars, being treated as so much lesser than. Besides all of that, as that's a given in the time period and is terrible in its own right, here's a man who's just helping his mama out in the place where he grew up and wanting to finish his education at a school close by. Men of a different and "superior" colour to him just wanted him to go away... and they succeeded. They ruined his life because they just wanted him to go away, which was not their right to have him just go away. I can't say that they killed him technically, as the survival rate for cancer was slim to none in 1961, but they sure didn't help matters and basically tortured him in the process by denying him care, ease of pain with medicines, and forcing him to work. It's a travesty that this man had to endure all of that shit and no one knows about him. That means that he doesn't matter; his terrible journey didn't matter. Who decided that it didn't matter? White men. White men whose names grace prominent buildings on the campus. White men who's families do not wish this to be known. And it's sad because a lot of people don't care. Certainly the people finding out about him, who are researching him care. They're trying to get it out there. The people in that audience and on the film that knew him care. People like me, people who attend these things, care. But I relayed to my dad their intentions for the film and information and it's sad that my dad has been so engulfed in this Conservative propaganda talk. "Will it be more than just the first black to do something?" in this flippant tone because it's like some needless merit badge or one up-ness that black people are trying to get. "What do you mean? To be the first in the black community is a huge deal! Black people weren't ALLOWED the freedom of education that whites were, so James Meredith being the first in the state is a huge deal. It set in motion all these black kids getting an education on the campus we're standing on! It's not some half-ass award or something." Only I'm not sure if he understood the significance. Clyde Kennard couldn't go to this school. He wasn't allowed and was basically murdered for it. If you wouldn't want to be forced to move states just to get an education (not I want to go to such and such university which happens to be in such and such state, but forced), and you don't think that's fair, then how was it fair for black people? It wasn't. And I can certainly understand them celebrating the triumphs of equality when they happen, no matter which venue - education, military, personal lives, etc. Plus, without his work and his letters the two girls that were admitted just two years after his death, wouldn't have happened. Or would have taken much, much longer. In September 1965, Southern Miss enrolled its first African-American students, Raylawni Branch and Gwendolyn Elaine Armstrong, and Raylawni Branch was in the audience a row over from me! The first black woman to go to my almost Alma Mater (I didn't graduate, though I attended), that was exciting! One of the men there, who knew Kennard and was interviewed in the film, relayed a person story and I really felt it. He graduated high school in the Hattiesburg area in 1960. He wasn't allowed to even set foot on the campus of USM. He was not allowed. The colour of his skin demoted him to not being allowed to even step one toe onto that campus. He and his wife left Hattiesburg because he was in the Army. Everywhere was better than a town that wouldn't let him even think of setting foot on their lawn. Then in 1986, the Army stationed him at USM as the ROTC instructor. He wasn't allowed and then he was commanded. He actually didn't say as much as I just did, not with words. He did repeat that he "wasn't allowed" a few times and did intone that his travels saw much less racism than his hometown and that he did get sent back here to USM because of the Army. "I wasn't allowed. And then I was sent here." I will not lie. I became verklempt. I could feel all of his emotions even though his sentences on some matters were short, but I've explained what I felt from him. I can't even begin to imagine the emotions elicited by that weird turn of events, the juxtaposition, the forcing one way and then the forcing the other way. How it must have felt for him to finally be able to step foot on a campus that barred him twenty six years before. Sometime that could have gotten him killed, was now part of his job. It's a travesty that this man had to endure all of that shit and no one knows about him. That means that he doesn't matter; his terrible journey didn't matter. Who decided that it didn't matter? White men. White men whose names grace prominent buildings on the campus. White men who's families do not wish this to be known. And it's sad because a lot of people don't care. Certainly the people finding out about him, who are researching him care. They're trying to get it out there. The people in that audience and on the film that knew him care. People like me, people who attend these things, care. But I relayed to my dad their intentions for the film and information and it's sad that my dad has been so engulfed in this Conservative propaganda talk. "Will it be more than just the first black to do something?" in this flippant tone because it's like some needless merit badge or one up-ness that black people are trying to get. "What do you mean? To be the first in the black community is a huge deal! Black people weren't ALLOWED the freedom of education that whites were, so James Meredith being the first in the state is a huge deal. It set in motion all these black kids getting an education on the campus we're standing on! It's not some half-ass award or something." Only I'm not sure if he understood the significance. Clyde Kennard couldn't go to this school. He wasn't allowed and was basically murdered for it. If you wouldn't want to be forced to move states just to get an education (not I want to go to such and such university which happens to be in such and such state, but forced), and you don't think that's fair, then how was it fair for black people? It wasn't. And I can certainly understand them celebrating the triumphs of equality when they happen, no matter which venue - education, military, personal lives, etc. Plus, without his work and his letters the two girls that were admitted just two years after his death, wouldn't have happened. Or would have taken much, much longer. In September 1965, Southern Miss enrolled its first African-American students, Raylawni Branch and Gwendolyn Elaine Armstrong, and Raylawni Branch was in the audience a row over from me! The first black woman to go to my almost Alma Mater (I didn't graduate, though I attended), that was exciting! One of the men there, who knew Kennard and was interviewed in the film, relayed a person story and I really felt it. He graduated high school in the Hattiesburg area in 1960. He wasn't allowed to even set foot on the campus of USM. He was not allowed. The colour of his skin demoted him to not being allowed to even step one toe onto that campus. He and his wife left Hattiesburg because he was in the Army. Everywhere was better than a town that wouldn't let him even think of setting foot on their lawn. Then in 1986, the Army stationed him at USM as the ROTC instructor. He wasn't allowed and then he was commanded. He actually didn't say as much as I just did, not with words. He did repeat that he "wasn't allowed" a few times and did intone that his travels saw much less racism than his hometown and that he did get sent back here to USM because of the Army. "I wasn't allowed. And then I was sent here." I will not lie. I became verklempt. I could feel all of his emotions even though his sentences on some matters were short, but I've explained what I felt from him. I can't even begin to imagine the emotions elicited by that weird turn of events, the juxtaposition, the forcing one way and then the forcing the other way. How it must have felt for him to finally be able to step foot on a campus that barred him twenty six years before. Sometime that could have gotten him killed, was now part of his job. You could feel that he has his old Sunday School teacher, Mr. Clyde Kennard, to thank for the desegregation. Though I knew this was going to happen, I did not attend because it was so early in the morning. But, I knew that I would go and find this on the campus and see it, read it, and take photos of it. This is the accompanying text (with links) supplied with the video: We began February’s celebration of Black History Month with the unveiling of Clyde Kennard’s Freedom Trail Marker at The University of Southern Mississippi in front of Kennard-Washington Hall.Mr. Kennard was born in Hattiesburg on June 12, 1927 into a farming family. According to the historical account written about Mr. Kennard by professors Timothy J. Michigan and John A. Salmond, he was a “quiet and studious child” and when he was 12, he moved to Chicago to attend school. By the time he was 18, he enlisted in the U.S. Army and served for seven years. He closed out his service with an honorable discharge and made a down-payment on a 20-acre farm in Eatonville, MS with his mother and stepfather. He returned to his studies at the University of Chicago. With three years of a political science degree under his belt, he moved back home with his mom when his stepfather died. With every intention of completing his studies, he applied for admissions at Mississippi Southern - an all-white institution. From here, Mr. Kennard’s story highlights the drastic desire of officials to preserve segregation. He applied for admission more than three times, being denied each time for bogus clerical reasons (not enough alumni signatures, lack of transcript, etc.), and he was arrested on campus for bogus charges, and two weeks later he was found guilty of both. During his quest to enroll, he often wrote to the local newspaper where he positioned his creed, advocating that “all individuals should be judged by their ability rather than their skin color.” He also published, “If there is one quality of Americans which would set them apart from almost any other peoples, it is the history of their struggle for liberty and justice under the law. Truly, the history of American is inseparable from the ideals of John Locke, John Stuart Mill and Jean Rousseau.” After years of steady focus and effort to attend Mississippi Southern, Mr. Kennard was accused of burglarizing the Forrest County Cooperative of chicken feed valued at $25. He was convicted and sentenced, thus not being able to ever apply to any of Mississippi’s colleges. After a year in prison and grueling labor in cotton fields, Mr. Kennard began to experience stomach pain that progressed aggressively. A trip to University of Mississippi Hospital in Jackson revealed a lesion on his left colon. He was not treated and sent back to work in prison. A medical librarian cited that doctors gave Mr. Kennard five more years of life due to the cancer that riddled his body, but the plea was ignored. His story began to get louder and “after two months of publicity and protest, Governor Ross Barnett suspended his sentence and released him in February of 1963. Regardless of the hatred and inhuman treatment he received, historical accounts of his life notate that he never one ever criticized anyone throughout his life that thwarted his desires to learn. He was 36 when he died and he was buried in Forrest County. The powerful part of Mr. Kennard’s story is not exclusive to his perseverance to learn and be treated equally, but also in those he motivated to do the same. Two years after his death, Raylawni Branch and Elaine Armstrong became the first African Americans to attend Mississippi Southern, newly named The University of Southern Mississippi. And in the late 90s, his story resurfaced in the media with much attention resulting into reopening the initial case that sent him to prison. In 2006, the co-op employee who provided testimony framing Mr. Kennard revealed that it was all a set-up. In 2005 and 2006, several groupings of people throughout the country advocated for Mr. Kennard’s conviction to be overturned, including Hattiesburg and The University of Southern Mississippi’s own LaKeisha Bryant-Hall, who served as the president of the Afro-American Student Association. Bryant-Hall’s efforts garnered a petition with more than 1,500 signatures in favor of a pardon to clear Mr. Kennard’s name. After a few months of legal procedures and working the petition through the system, CIrcuit Judge Robert Helfrich “wasted no time in dealing with the matter.” Within 20 minutes on May 16, 2016, he overturned the conviction and cleared Mr. Kennard’s name. Fifty-eight years after being arrested on false pretenses and wrongly imprisoned, the unveiling of Mr. Kennard’s Freedom Trail marker is a distinctive way to remember his extraordinary life and work as a Civil Rights pioneer. But, it is also a reminder that we still have so much left to do and many more steps left to take. Mr. Kennard’s story is often referred to as the “little-known” story of the Civil Rights movement, but we invite you to dive deeper and learn about who he is and the legacy he left for so many. On Wednesday (Feb. 21) at 6 p.m., a documentary of his life will premier at Lake Terrace Convention Center (Measure of Progress: The Clyde Kennard Story). Resources: http://www.law.northwestern.edu/legalclinic/wrongfulconvictions/exonerations/ms/clyde-kennard.html http://www.mshistorynow.mdah.ms.gov/articles/349/clyde-kennard-a-little-known-civil-rights-pioneer The Freedom Trail marker is located in front of (to the left) of Kennard-Washington Hall. It was renamed to include Clyde Kennard in the mid 2000's after I was out of school. Incidentally this is where my friend works. However, she seemed non impressed that the building was renamed for him or that a marker was recently erected, which is a shame. The non-excitement I encounter really is lost on me. In 2006, our then Governor designated 30. March as Clyde Kennard day in an effort for his story to be known. I didn't learn about this until the documentary and I don't know why that particular date was chosen, but it's still pretty cool.
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AuthorA girl from South Mississippi who finds herself in exploration. Archives
November 2019
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