The Final Vote

On June 19, 1963, President John Kennedy sent to Congress a civil rights bill, urged its speedy passage "not merely for reasons of economic efficiency, world diplomacy or domestic tranquillity, but above all because it is right." Last week, a year later to the very day, the U.S. Senate by a vote of 73-27 passed that bill--considerably changed and strengthened.

The bill's opponents died hard. They brought up amendment after amendment, not in any expectation that the changes would be adopted, but rather as a time-consuming effort to delay the moment of truth. In one day, the Senate had 34 roll calls, an alltime record. Such was the pace that at one point a pro-civil rights Senator rushed onto the floor, heard his name called, shouted "nay," then turned to a colleague and asked just what it was he had voted against. In all, 115 amendments were voted on between cloture and the final vote, and only one of any great substance was approved. That was the package written by Republican Leader Everett Dirksen and approved by Democratic Senate and Administration leaders.

All About Mammy. Under the terms of cloture, voted the week before, each Senator was limited to a total of one hour of speechmaking on all motions. Thus the day before the final vote, Georgia Democrat Richard Russell, leader of the filibustering forces, ran out of time, was ordered to sit down. He did so, with tears in his eyes: "We have fought the good fight until we were overwhelmed and gagged."

But even with Russell out of action, the bitter battle continued. Just a few hours before the vote, Louisiana Democrat Russell Long, in one of those some-of-my-best-friends-are-Negroes statements, recalled how he had been reared by a "Negro mammy." The phrase enraged Rhode Island Democrat John Pastore. "We don't just want to protect your mammy," he said. "We want to protect everybody's mammy. We want to fix it so that a Negro woman can go into a drugstore and get a glass of water when she is thirsty. That's what this bill is about."

At that point, Florida Democrat George Smathers got into the act, shouting at Pastore: "Not one word does the Senator from Rhode Island know what he is talking about! She could go into any drugstore and get a drink of water." Moreover, Smathers continued, there is discrimination in the North as well as the South, so Pastore had no right "to get so holy and mighty about this." Retorted Pastore: "Well, if you have no segregation and discrimination, then you don't need to worry about this bill."

In their final, last-gasp effort, the Southern segregationists made a motion that could have required the Senate clerk to read the record of the entire 68-day "legislative day" since formal debate on the bill began--some 6,000,000 words in all. The motion was defeated, 73 to 18, and at long last it was time for the historic vote.

Acid in the Pool. In the showdown, 46 Democrats voted for the bill, while 21 voted against it. Twenty-seven Republicans voted aye, while only six said no. In addition to Barry Goldwater (see following story), the dissident Republicans were New Hampshire's Norris Cotton, Iowa's Bourke Hickenlooper, New Mexico's Edwin Mechem, Wyoming's Milward Simpson and Texas' John Tower.

Although the civil rights bill must next go to the House, little difficulty or delay is anticipated in reconciling the Senate and House versions. That done, it is expected that President Johnson will ceremoniously sign the bill into law on or about the Fourth of July. The bill's voting guarantees must wait for an election before being fully tested. The ban on discrimination in employment and labor unions does not become effective for a year. But effective immediately, and likely to cause the fastest fireworks, is the wide-ranging public accommodations section.

Civil rights leaders were yearning to start testing that section. And even as the final Senate vote approached, there was an indication in St. Augustine, Fla., of what the summer might hold.

There, five Negroes and two white fellow demonstrators dived into the swimming pool at the segregated Monson Motor Lodge. The motel manager, furious, grabbed two jugs of muriatic acid, a cleansing agent, tried unsuccessfully to splash the stuff on the swimmers. Cops moved in, one of them stripped off his shoes and socks, leaped gracelessly into the water and pummeled the swimmers with his fists. When the fracas was over, 34 people, including the swimmers and other civil righters who kept dry, were hauled off to jail.

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