c. 1999 Religion News Service

(Rabbi Rudin is the National Interreligious Affairs Director of the American Jewish Committee.)

UNDATED _ In February 1964 I participated in a voting registration drive in Hattiesburg, Miss., that included rabbis, ministers and priests.

For decades, the black residents of Forest County had been systematically prevented from voting in elections. In 1964, for example, blacks had to pass a lengthy written test featuring specific questions about the minutia of the Mississippi constitution. Potential white voters, of course, did not have to take any examination to register.

The passage of 35 years has not dulled my vivid memories of the unforgettable week I spent in Mississippi. I was then a rabbi in Kansas City, Mo., and I still recall with gratitude the strong support I received from Congregation B’nai Jehudah as well as from the general community, including the mayor.

My parents, living in Virginia, were anxious about my personal safety even though they approved of my action in seeking to break open Mississippi’s discriminatory voting system.

The Rev. Robert Spike, a Presbyterian minister on the staff of the National Council of Churches, had organized the”Hattiesburg Clergy Project.”While in Hattiesburg, my dozen colleagues and I lived in a spartan makeshift dormitory in the rear area of Mr. Fairly’s (an apt name, indeed!) radio and TV repair shop.

Fairly, a leader in the Hattiesburg black community, had recently installed a communal shower in his storeroom and there were black security guards protecting us from possible violence at the hands of angry whites.

Each morning we dutifully marched together from”Fairly Arms”_ my name for our dorm _ to the nearby courthouse. We were constantly told not to”leave the pack”and wander off, but a few weeks later Rabbi Arthur Lelyveld of Cleveland did just that and was severely beaten by a white gang.

Between 9:00 a.m. and noon, we walked in a tight circle carrying our civil rights signs. I deliberately maintained constant eye contact with the Hattiesburg residents who either had business in the courthouse or who had come to harass us with harsh words and spitting. We were derisively labeled”outside agitators,”a familiar 1960s term.

The local police prevented any direct physical contact with our hecklers, but none of the clergy had much confidence in the police. We were never sure which side they were on nor how they would react in a crisis. We eagerly looked for federal law enforcement authorities, but there were none in Hattiesburg.

At lunch time we walked back to the secure confines of the black neighborhood where we were fed courtesy of a local church. In the afternoon we visited homes of potential black voters and tutored them in the intricacies of the lengthy voter exam. It was a tedious but eye-opening experience. Extreme poverty was mixed with high hopes for the future.

Lyndon Johnson had succeeded the slain John Kennedy as president three months earlier and Robert Kennedy was the pro-civil rights Attorney General.

I noted in my diary that I was deeply impressed, but also worried that the blacks were placing so much reliance on the Justice Department and J. Edgar Hoover’s FBI.

Each evening our group participated in citizenship classes at the Morning Star Baptist church, a black congregation featuring stirring preaching and fantastic singing. We had our pictures taken by hostile white photographers every time we entered the church. The photographers also copied the license numbers of the cars parked near Morning Star.

After a harrowing week in Hattiesburg, a new clergy group took up residence at”Fairly Arms,”and I returned to Kansas City filled with a sense of dread about what was being called”Freedom Summer 1964.” Six months later the world painfully learned the names of James Chaney, Michael Schwerner, and Andrew Goodman. I cried when I heard they were murdered that summer in Neshoba County, but I was not surprised.

I visited Hattiesburg again in 1989 and sadly discovered that Fairly’s store was closed with wooden boards covering its windows. Blacks freely voted thanks to the 1960s federal voting rights laws.

Hattiesburg’s police force was now fully integrated and blacks were elected public officials, including State Sen. Aaron Henry, one of the leaders of the 1964 voting rights drive.

But 10 years ago Hattiesburg was in the midst of an economic depression that disproportionally hurt the black community. Hopefully, the current boom in the United States has benefitted all of Hattiesburg’s citizens, black and white. I look forward to another visit soon.

DEA END RUDIN