Media Coverage and Public Debates
The New Orleans school desegregation case attracted enormous attention in Louisiana, around the nation, and even internationally. The leading newspaper in New Orleans, the Times-Picayune, gave extensive coverage to the legal proceedings. Throughout, the Times-Picayune opposed school integration. Many local critics, particularly those sympathetic to school integration, accused both the Times-Picayune and the States-Item (the other New Orleans daily newspaper) of downplaying the intensity of white resistance to desegregation. Of the local media, only the NBC affiliate in New Orleans provided any editorial support for school integration.
Editorial—“New Desegregation Order”
The Times-Picayune published this editorial two days after Judge Skelly Wright issued his first order requiring the Orleans Parish School Board to desegregate its schools and a three-judge federal court declared various Louisiana state statutes and constitutional provisions unconstitutional.
[Document Source: New Orleans Times-Picayune, February 17, 1956, 12.]
All Louisiana law, including constitutional amendments, which was laboriously designed and voted in 1954 to preserve separate and “parallel” school systems was declared invalid here Wednesday by a special three-judge federal court.
This action, while disappointing to a large majority of Louisiana citizens, was not unexpected. Orders of the supreme court to the lower federal courts are clear enough, and the court here, it seems to us, stuck pretty close to the language of the orders.
If the court in saying that Orleans must establish an unsegregated school system meant that the school board must mix the white and Negro children, then in our judgment it was crediting the school board with super-human power. . . .
Indications are that federal court actions, like those here Wednesday, will hasten legislative counteractions over the South. More resolutions of interposition will be passed, pronouncing the desegregation decision invalid on the ground that the supreme court exceeded its authority. Such moves should be allowed to take their course, and to produce, if possible, an accommodation of views that will prevent a chaotic situation in the administration of the schools.
School departments and boards are already faced with serious burdens and decisions. By such overwhelming actions as the adoption of constitutional amendments by votes of three or four to one, these authorities have been told to maintain separate school systems. A federal court order cannot change the public feeling. These authorities will need the sympathy and encouragement of their localities and people to keep the systems operating smoothly and without interruptions during the period of contention.
“Letter from a New Orleans Mother”
One New Orleans mother, Betty Wisdom, public relations director for Save Our Schools and a member of a prominent New Orleans family that included her uncle, Judge John Minor Wisdom of the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals, wrote this letter to the Nation in November 1961 in response to an earlier article (September 30, 1961) in the Nation in which reporter Stan Optowsky had analyzed the role of the press in the New Orleans conflict. Wisdom was sharply critical of the local press in New Orleans and the role it played in the controversy. In particular, she blamed much of the local press for ignoring the ugly behavior of those resisting integration. In contrast, Wisdom lauded much of the national press for providing full coverage of the conflict. Wisdom also argued that the national press’s attention to white resistance in New Orleans helped dissuade other southern cities from engaging in similar resistance.
[Document Source: 193 The Nation (November 4, 1961): 353, 364.]
. . . It is true, as Mr. Optowsky pointed out, that the crisis might have been covered by our local publisher. If past performance is a useful yardstick, the coverage would have been poor, and the nation would not have really known what was going on in New Orleans. The paper is ultraconservative; during the school year of 1960–61 it offered virtually no leadership or pertinent information to the beleaguered community; what information it did offer came too late to change many minds. Its editorial position, when that emerged, was that school closing was worse than integration, but that both were evils.
This is in no way a reflection on the reporters who work for the paper. They are conscientious men and women, but they do not control what the paper prints. When a real racial clash nearly occurred on Nov. 16 , it was reported in Time and Newsweek, but not in our paper. When, on stage at a Citizens Council rally [on December 15, 1960], tiny white children, half of them made up in blackface, kissed each other while the chairman shouted, “Is this what you want for your children?”, it was reported in Southern School News but not in our paper. When facts and figures on a business slump, the result of racial disturbances, were printed, they appeared in The Wall Street Journal and The New York Times, but not in our paper. . . .
You must remember that we had, literally, no normal support from anyone but our close friends and from the reporters. The Mayor, the business community and the power structure in general ignored us. The local paper was indifferent to our efforts. The legislature was thirsting for our blood. Until we began reading the stories and editorials in the outside press (including the Atlanta Constitution), we felt cut off from the world. In a crisis like ours, there are few things worse than this feeling of isolation. It induces the racists to commit ever more terrible outrages, secure in the knowledge that no one but approving fellow citizens will ever see their actions. It induces in moderates and integrationists the feeling that theirs is a Sisyphean task which no one approves or understands. We had this feeling for months; we did not stop working, but our task was twice as hard until the outside world, represented by the reporters, suddenly materialized and approved of us.
What is more, the widespread coverage which gave New Orleans a black eye stirred the local power structure to action. This year we have a new Mayor [Victor Schiro], who stood up for law and order and planned, with the police chief, a program which prevented any repetition of last year’s disorders. We have a committee of 300 businessmen working to restore our tarnished name by means of political pressures and public statements. The newspaper has at last taken a firm stand in favor of law and order and public education. We now have six integrated schools and there has been little trouble.
I am told that the pictures and stories of the New Orleans mobs were instrumental in convincing the people of Dallas and Atlanta that such things must not happen to them. We, in turn, used the good examples set by Dallas and Atlanta to convince our people that integration can be accomplished with no trouble. (This year New Orleans, taking its cue from Atlanta, did what Morrison should have done last year: instead of trying to curb the press, the police barricaded the schools and asked potential demonstrators to move on.)
The widespread coverage of 1960, in my opinion, accomplished one thing perhaps more important than you realize. It put an end to effective resistance to integration in urban areas. (I don’t include cities in Alabama, Mississippi, and South Carolina; those states are rapidly becoming anomalies in today’s South.) The peaceful integration of Memphis indicates to me that the sheer horribleness of the New Orleans racists, witnessed by virtually every person who reads a paper or owns a TV set, repelled reasonable Southerners. The racists’ great mistake has always been that they have allowed the press to see the inner nastiness of their souls. This was evident at Little Rock, more evident in New Orleans. They see nothing wrong in harassing women and cursing children, but gradually it has been made clear to them that the outside world despises them for being cowardly bullies. Like most of us, they are sensitive to disapprobation, and so they have begun to change their tactics. For this we have the far-flung press to thank.
Betty Wisdom New Orleans, La.
National media coverage
The New Orleans school desegregation crisis provoked extensive national comment. Reporters from the national wire services (AP and UPI), as well the national television networks (ABC, CBS, and NBC), and national newsmagazines and newspapers (including Commonweal, Life, the Nation, the New Republic, Newsweek, the New York Times, and Time) covered the story. The desegregation of the schools in New Orleans also provoked international comment. Reporters from Great Britain, Australia, and Sweden traveled to New Orleans to cover the story. Other foreign newspapers also wrote about the integration fight in New Orleans. For example, the Ghanaian Times, in Accra, Ghana, ran a story critical of America’s treatment of black schoolchildren in New Orleans. The New York Times published the following editorial the day after school desegregation began in New Orleans.
Editorial—“The Battle of New Orleans”
[Document Source: New York Times, November 15, 1960.]
When a little girl in a white dress with white ribbons in her hair walked into the William Frantz Primary School in New Orleans yesterday, it seemed that the United States of America had won another battle. The little girl in the white dress with the white ribbons in her hair was one of five Negro girls who, under the Constitution as interpreted by the Supreme Court, were entitled to enter formerly segregated schools in their own city and state. Four of them actually did go yesterday to two schools which had previously been segregated. They did this in spite of the Governor of Louisiana, the legislative majority of Louisiana, and the Louisiana State Superintendent of Schools and a force of state police. They were able to do it because a courageous Federal judge, J. Skelly Wright, prohibited the State of Louisiana from interfering with the integration of the New Orleans schools.
The New Orleans Board of Education has said this: “The feeling of the board, as repeatedly expressed, is that it would be in the best interests of the state if the schools remained segregated; however, after eight years of court proceedings it has been decided that the schools must desegregate, according to the orders of the Federal court.”
The Board of Education, in short, has deferred, however reluctantly, to the laws and court decisions of the Union of these states. It kept the schools open in spite of orders from Baton Rouge to close them. It permitted Federal marshals to protect these little girls in their innocent passage into classrooms which Negro taxpayers as well as white taxpayers had helped to pay for. There was no serious disorder. If little girls in white dresses with white ribbons in their hair were a menace to the State of Louisiana or to American civilization as a whole, the fact was not apparent yesterday.
New Orleans is one of the most relaxed and thoroughly charming cities in this country. It has an easygoing, tolerant tradition. It is, therefore, altogether fitting that in New Orleans the law of school desegregation should win its first, however slight, victory in the deepest South.
Observations of John Steinbeck on the New Orleans desegregation crisis
Esteemed American novelist John Steinbeck traveled through New Orleans in late 1960 and witnessed firsthand the resistance to school desegregation. Steinbeck described his experiences in his 1962 book, Travels with Charley: In Search of America (New York: Viking Press, 1962), 189, 193–95.
While I was still in Texas, late in 1960, the incident most reported and pictured in the newspapers was the matriculation of a couple of tiny Negro children in a New Orleans school. Behind these small dark mites were the law’s majesty and the law’s power to enforce—both the scales and the sword were allied with the infants—while against them were three hundred years of fear and anger and terror of change in a changing world. I had seen photographs in the papers every day and motion pictures on the television screen. What made the newsmen love the story was a group of stout middle-aged women who, by some curious definition of the word “mother,” gathered every day to scream invectives at children. Further, a small group of them had become so expert that they were known as the Cheerleaders, and a crowd gathered every day to enjoy and to applaud their performance. . . .
As I walked toward the school I was in a stream of people all white and all going in my direction. They walked intently like people going to a fire after it has been burning for some time. They beat their hands against their hips or hugged them under coats, and many men had scarves under their hats and covering their ears.
Across the street from the school the police had set up wooden barriers to keep the crowd back, and they paraded back and forth, ignoring the jokes called to them. The front of the school was deserted but along the curb United States marshals were spaced, not in uniform but wearing armbands to identify them. Their guns bulged decently under their coats but their eyes darted about nervously, inspecting faces. It seemed to me that they inspected me to see if I was a regular, and then abandoned me as unimportant.
It was apparent where the Cheerleaders were, because people shoved forward to try to get near them. They had a favored place at the barricade directly across from the school entrance, and in that area a concentration of police stamped their feet and slapped their hands together in unaccustomed gloves.
Suddenly I was pushed violently and a cry went up: “Here she comes. Let her through. . . . Come on, move back. Let her through. Where you been? You’re late for school. Where you been, Nellie?”
The name was not Nellie. I forget what it was. But she shoved through the dense crowd quite near enough to me so that I could see her coat of imitation fleece and her gold earrings. She was not tall, but her body was ample and full-busted. I judge she was about fifty. She was heavily powdered, which made the line of her double chin look very dark.
She wore a ferocious smile and pushed her way through the milling people, holding a fistful of clippings high in her hand to keep them from being crushed. Since it was her left hand I looked particularly for a wedding ring, and saw that there was none. I slipped in behind her to get carried along by her wave, but the crush was dense and I was given a warning too. “Watch it, sailor. Everybody wants to hear.” Nellie was received with shouts of greeting. I don’t know how many Cheerleaders there were. There was no fixed line between the Cheerleaders and the crowd behind them. What I could see was that a group was passing newspaper clippings back and forth and reading them aloud with little squeals of delight.
Now the crowd grew restless, as an audience does when the clock goes past curtain time. Men all around me looked at their watches. I looked at mine. It was three minutes to nine.
The show opened on time. Sound of sirens. Motorcycle cops. Then two big black cars filled with big men in blond felt hats pulled up in front of the school. The crowd seemed to hold its breath. Four big marshals got out of each car and from somewhere in the automobiles they extracted the littlest Negro girl you ever saw, dressed in shining starchy white, with new white shoes on feet so little they were almost round. Her face and little legs were very black against the white.
The big marshals stood her on the curb and a jangle of jeering shrieks went up from behind the barricades. The little girl did not look at the howling crowd but from the side the whites of her eyes showed like those of a frightened fawn. The men turned her around like a doll, and then the strange procession moved up the broad walk toward the school, and the child was even more a mite because the men were so big. Then the girl made a curious hop, and I think I know what it was. I think in her whole life she had not gone ten steps without skipping, but now in the middle of her first skip the weight bore her down and her little round feet took measured, reluctant steps between the tall guards. Slowly they climbed the steps and entered the school.
The papers had printed that the jibes and jeers were cruel and sometimes obscene, and so they were, but this was not the big show. The crowd was waiting for the white man who dared to bring his white child to school. And here he came along the guarded walk, a tall man dressed in light gray, leading his frightened child by the hand. His body was tensed as a strong leaf spring drawn to the breaking strain; his face was grave and gray, and his eyes were on the ground immediately ahead of him. The muscles of his cheeks stood out from clenched jaws, a man afraid who by his will held his fears in check as a great rider directs a panicked horse.
A shrill, grating voice rang out. The yelling was not in chorus. Each took a turn and at the end of each the crowd broke into howls and roars and whistles of applause. This is what they had come to see and hear. No newspaper had printed the words these women shouted. It was indicated that they were indelicate, some even said obscene. On television the sound track was made to blur or had crowd noises cut in to cover. But now I heard the words, bestial and filthy and degenerate. In a long and unprotected life I have seen and heard the vomitings of demoniac humans before. Why then did these screams fill me with a shocked and sickened sorrow?
“The Mother Who Stood Alone,” by Isabella Taves
Despite a boycott of the two integrated schools, a few white parents chose to defy the boycott. One such parent was Daisy Gabrielle, whose experience was detailed in a 1961 article in Good Housekeeping magazine. When Gabrielle insisted on keeping her daughter in the integrated William Frantz School, vandals attacked her home with bricks and made threats on her life and the lives of her husband and children. Daisy’s husband, James, eventually quit his job with the city’s sewerage and water board and moved his family to Rhode Island.
[Document Source: Good Housekeeping, April 1961, 31.]
Note: Article contains offensive language.
In the beginning, Daisy Gabrielle had no idea of becoming either a heroine or a martyr. On that first Monday morning, she left her baby with a neighbor and as usual walked with her six-year-old daughter, Yolanda, the three short blocks to the William Frantz School.
The fact that integration was scheduled to begin that day at William Frantz bothered Daisy not at all. Yolanda had attended kindergarten there and had loved it. She and most of her friends had developed a crush on Miss Mooney, their first grade teacher, and Daisy Gabrielle was sure Miss Mooney could handle the assimilation of one little Negro child into the school without difficulty.
Within a few hours, Daisy was to hear the taunt of “nigger-lover.” Within a few days she was to learn what it was like to be followed three blocks from school—blocks that got longer every day—by a mob of snarling, cursing women and teen-aged girls. Within a week, she was to find out what it meant to be afraid to leave her apartment because a hooting crowd waited outside, armed with rocks and rotten eggs.
But that first morning things were quiet. Her first inkling of what was ahead did not come until after she’d finished her housework and had taken the baby outside to play in one of the grassy clothes-drying areas that separate the units of the publichousing development where Gabrielle lived. She was sitting quietly, enjoying the sunshine when two neighbors approached her.
“Daisy, you’ve got a child in Frantz, haven’t you? You must be crazy! Don’t you know there’s a nigger there? You’d better go get that kid home fast, or she’ll catch their diseases.”
“There’s only one little colored girl,” Daisy said.
They looked at each other. Then coldly: “Daisy, we didn’t know you were a nigger-lover.” She watched them turn and walk away; saw them join some other women and hurry off in the direction of the school. She could hear excited voices from the street. Obviously something was going on. . . .
At one o’clock on that first afternoon, Maria, the oldest of her six children, burst into the apartment. She had gotten herself excused from school because of a “toothache” and was as upset at Yolanda’s presence in school as Daisy’s neighbors. “Mother,” she announced in that tone peculiar to 14-year-old daughters, “you’ve got to go get Yolanda right now.”
The Gabrielles had no telephone—couldn’t afford one on the $250 a month Jim Gabrielle earned as an assistant meter-reader for the city. But they had a neighbor who used to give them messages. While Maria was still speaking her mind, the neighbor called Daisy to the phone. It was Jim. “I hear there’s going to be trouble at Frantz. I want you to get Yolanda before she gets hurt.” Daisy, frightened for the child now, agreed. She sent Maria to walk those three short blocks this time. Yolanda was back at home an hour before Frantz let out.
That night Daisy made up her mind. In spite of Jim’s misgivings and Maria’s opposition, she decided that Yolanda should continue at school. Therefore, next morning Yolanda was one of 40 white children (out of an enrollment of 575) who turned up the second day of integration. By Thursday of that first week, only four children were on hand. Yolanda Gabrielle was among them.
It was then that the segregationist leaders began to exert pressure on the holdouts to make the white boycott of William Frantz School complete. . . . That Thursday, the segregationists sent a message to Daisy Gabrielle by 10-year-old Jimmy Jr.
“Mom,” he reported, “some women said to tell you to stop taking Yolanda to school unless you want to get beat up. They said you’re going to be sorry if you don’t.”
The following day and for three weeks thereafter, the Gabrielles lived with fear. Daisy and the one woman in the housing project who had stuck by her (a Californian and the wife of a serviceman) walked their children to school together. For security reasons, they and the other two white children were taken to the second floor for classes while federal marshals escorted Ruby Bridges, the Negro child, to a different room to be taught by herself. (Yolanda never saw Ruby during her three weeks in an integrated school, except once when the door to Ruby’s room happened to be open while Yolanda was passing.)
That afternoon when Daisy and her friend went to get their children, about 30 or 40 women had gathered across the street from the school. “For the first time I was scared,” Daisy said later. “We hurried in and picked up the children. When we came out, the mob had moved to our side of the street. We had to pass them to get home. My friend went first, and they yelled a little at her, but not much. Then it was my turn, and I realized that it was me they were after. They kept calling Yolanda ‘poor little thing.’ But they cursed me and called me ‘nigger-lover’ and told me they were going to beat the ---- out of me.
“I took Yolanda’s arm and told her: ‘You can’t hate people just because they act like animals. You have to feel sorry for them. Keep your head up; don’t run; and don’t look back.’”
All the way home, the crowd followed them, getting more and more abusive as Daisy continued to disregard them. As they approached the housing project, Jim Gabrielle, who had stayed home from work in case of trouble, heard the noise and came outside. When he saw what was happening, he pushed his wife and her friend through the door with the children and, white with anger, faced the mob: “Get out of here, you white scum. Leave us alone!”
The crowd dispersed, but the segregationists had no intention of leaving the Gabrielles alone. On the contrary. During the next three weeks they conducted a campaign of terror which finally drove the Gabrielle family from the city they loved.
. . .
Supporters of keeping public schools open
When Judge Skelly Wright announced his desegregation plan in May 1960, public reaction was extensive. Many of those opposed to school desegregation urged closing the schools rather than permit any black children to learn with whites. Others feared the consequences of closed schools for the children of New Orleans and urged that the schools remain open, even if it required token desegregation. Many groups, including religious organizations, issued statements urging the school board to keep the schools open, but none of these offered public support for desegregation.
Save Our Schools (a New Orleans organization committed to keeping the schools open) (excerpt), May 1960
[Document Source: Southern School News (June 1960): 2.]
The closing of public schools inevitably means an increase in juvenile delinquency, as thousands of youngsters are left to their own devices. It means loss of federal funds and the shifting of additional tax burdens to all the citizens of Louisiana. It means the sacrifice of the health-protecting services not available to public school children, such as physical examination, immunization and the school lunch program. It means economic stagnation, because new industries refuse to move into an area in which the public schools have been closed.
New Orleans District of the Methodist Church, resolution (excerpt), July 1960
[Document Source: Southern School News (August 1960): 7.]
That an intelligent, informed citizenry of New Orleans would be willing to abolish public education is unthinkable to us. Our cherished democracy depends upon a free and educated citizenry for its preservation. . . . Furthermore, those who would substitute private schools for public schools are unknowingly and unwittingly advocating inferior education for our children. Contrary to what most people think, the public schools are doing a better job, on average, than the private schools.
Letter to the editor
Numerous letters to the editor urged that the public schools of New Orleans not be closed as a means of avoiding racial integration. For many white residents of New Orleans, it was better to have token integration than school closures.
[Document Source: New Orleans Times-Picayune, August 24, 1960, 10.]
To the Editor:
To close our public schools would mean disaster to the community. Not only would those who live here suffer (how many of us can afford or even care to send our children to the limited facilities of private New Orleans schools?) but there would be little reason to attract new business and industry to this city.
It’s too easy (and shortsighted) to say “We don’t care about Northern industry” or “Go back North if you don’t like it here.” This isn’t facing the fact that a wonderful city like New Orleans can grow only when it benefits from a great melting pot of ideas and talents which outsiders can add to our own way of life.
The managerial and engineering talent responsible for the construction and operation of such plants as Kaiser, Shell Oil, American Oil, Avondale, and U.S. Gypsum must be drawn more and more from the South.
Mr. and Mrs. B.E. Van Arsdale
Opponents of desegregation
By the same token, many in New Orleans and throughout Louisiana opposed school desegregation and expressed their views in the media. Here are some excerpts of opponents of desegregation.
Note: This material contains offensive language.
“Death Stalks Our Land With Black Plague,” Knights of White Christians, New Orleans, August 1960
Many segregationist groups emerged in response to the court-ordered school desegregation in New Orleans. One was a group that called itself “Knights of White Christians.” They prepared the following leaflet, titled “Death Stalks Our Land With Black Plague.”
[Document Source: J. Skelly Wright Papers, Manuscripts Division, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.]
We call upon the white Christian manhood and womanhood of our native southland to fight and prove your loyalty to your forefathers who created this country with their courage, work, sacrifice and blood. The purity of the white race must be protected and preserved—Our racial dignity, southern heritages, and traditions as well as our rights guaranteed by the Constitution of our country cannot and will not perish from this earth. No power on earth can bring death to our white race and the southern Legion of Honor cause which we love so well – more than life – enough to defy and fight communism, tyranny and persecution, spearheaded by the black plague of racial integration, without fear of personal sacrifice or death.
Almighty God created segregation and in his name we would prefer to die than submit to mulatto mongrelization and the indoctrination, regimentation and mental slavery of a government of tyranny.
You are born alone – must die alone – must face the King of Kings alone – so – make your own decision.
United we stand and lead on to victory – divided we fall victims to black plague and Communism. . . .
Our No. 1 plank in our battle for survival program is the weapon used by the N.A.A.C.P. – BOYCOTT NEGROES. Do not employ Negroes – Do not deal with or patronize stores, business places, restaurants, churches, T.V. advertised products, sporting events, etc., that sponsor or promote racial integration.
Letters to the editor
Scores of letters to the editor were sent to the New Orleans Times-Picayune expressing opposition to school desegregation in New Orleans. Here is one such letter.
New Orleans Times-Picayune, November 21, 1960
To the Editor: A day that will live in the archives of New Orleans as its “Black Monday” of the 20th century, engulfed this city of the historic South on the 14th of November.
In direct violation of the state and federal constitution, a federal judge has assumed dictatorial powers over the city as well as the state of Louisiana. Never in the annals of American history has a so-called governing body of the United States, in the representation of the federal courts, intervened themselves . . . as in New Orleans.
If this nation is to enjoy the liberty and freedom of a democracy, then first of all, its leaders should renew the ideology of a democracy. . . .
As Louisiana speaker J. Thomas Jewell, in deliverance of his classic piece of oratory before the House of Representatives, said on the 14th of November:
“The courts are traditionally the guardian of liberty. They have the right to pass upon the actions of the lawmakers of Louisiana and every other state. They can render opinions regarding the constitutionality of laws passed by Congress itself. But no power on earth – including the federal court – can assume unto itself the right to prejudge the actions of the Legislature.”
These words are symbolic of the very meaning of American democracy. This nation was built upon foundations of strength, faith and determination – not upon the whimsical theories of dreamers. The strength of a country lies first of all in the patriotic health and moral stamina of that nation, not in an idea of liberalistic philosophy.
Lloyd F. Fricke, Jr.
Telegram from Mayor Jack Howard of Monroe, Louisiana, to state legislature
Many Louisianans supported the defiant posture taken by the Louisiana state legislature and communicated their support. Jack Howard, mayor of Monroe, Louisiana, sent this telegram to the legislative delegation from Monroe on Sunday, November 13, 1960.
[Document Source: J. Skelly Wright Papers, Manuscripts Division, Library of Congress, Box 12.]
“Ouachita Men Strongly Back School Action”
Monroe Morning Herald, November 14, 1960
The white citizens of Monroe and Ouachita Parish are supporting you and the governor one thousand percent. Let’s battle the U.S. courts to the bitter end and learn once and for all whether the state of Louisiana, its legislature and its governor are going to run the affairs of our state or whether or not traitors like Skelly Wright and a Communist Supreme Court is going to take over, and run our state. We are supporting you all the way and ask that no stone be left unturned in this all important fight to preserve our traditional way of life. If we lose this fight then we have lost it all. Keep up the good work.