1964 was a pivotal year in the journey towards civil rights and racial equality in the United States—a long road that we still traverse today. The signing of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 on July 2 by President Lyndon Baines Johnson is often described as the most important piece of civil rights legislation to be enacted since Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation, a little over 100 years prior.
Many of you reading this today were not even born in 1964. Though it was 53 years ago, I remember the passage of the bill, and that year, as if it were yesterday. I had just graduated from high school a month before. Friends who were a little older had gone South to join the movement and all of us who were active in New York City, along with many other people across the nation were reeling from the news of the murder of Andrew Goodman and Michael "Mickey" Schwerner from New York City, and James Chaney from Meridian, Mississippi. Walter Cronkite had taken to the airwaves to announce it on June 24.
Young people in the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE) and NAACP youth groups were still protesting the World’s Fair, which had opened in April. Leftist activists had staged a draft card burning to protest the Vietnam War. The Beatles had invaded and were dominating the pop charts, while kids in my neighborhood were listening to The Impressions sing “Keep on Pushing.” Later on that summer we’d be “Dancing in the Streets” with Martha and the Vandellas, and cities would burn in response to white supremacy and inner-city frustrations. The Atlantic’s photo essay on 1964 civil rights battles is a must-see. Fannie Lou Hamer would come to the Democratic National Convention in Atlantic City with members of the Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party and demand to be seated on Aug, 22.
So much of what brought the Civil Rights Act to fruition and onto LBJ’s desk is connected to the struggles of activists, the work of lawyers and elected officials—all of this against the odds—that it is almost impossible to tell the whole tale in one post. We should, however, mark this day in history to gauge not only our progress, but also the obstacles we now face in the days ahead.
Here is how the signing was reported on the television news:
The signing of the bill with public pomp does little to indicate the history that led up to it, and the difficulties its advocates faced on multiple fronts, especially as it moved through Congress:
Kennedy was assassinated that November in Dallas, after which new President Lyndon B. Johnson immediately took up the cause. “Let this session of Congress be known as the session which did more for civil rights than the last hundred sessions combined,” Johnson said in his first State of the Union address. During debate on the floor of the U.S. House of Representatives, southerners argued, among other things, that the bill unconstitutionally usurped individual liberties and states’ rights. In a mischievous attempt to sabotage the bill, a Virginia segregationist introduced an amendment to ban employment discrimination against women. That one passed, whereas over 100 other hostile amendments were defeated. In the end, the House approved the bill with bipartisan support by a vote of 290-130.
The bill then moved to the Senate, where southern and border-state Democrats staged a 75-day filibuster—one of the longest in U.S. history. On one occasion, Senator Robert Byrd of West Virginia, a former Ku Klux Klan member, spoke for over 14 consecutive hours. But with the help of behind-the-scenes horse-trading, the bill’s supporters eventually obtained the two-thirds votes necessary to end debate. One of those votes came from California Senator Clair Engle, who, though too sick to speak, signaled “aye” by pointing to his own eye. Having broken the filibuster, the Senate voted 73-27 in favor of the bill, and Johnson signed it into law on July 2, 1964. “It is an important gain, but I think we just delivered the South to the Republican Party for a long time to come,” Johnson, a Democrat, purportedly told an aide later that day in a prediction that would largely come true.
The Library of Congress has a wealth of information, interviews and video on its exhibition pages “The Civil Rights Act of 1964: A Long Struggle for Freedom.”
Here is Hubert Humphrey (D-MN) debating Strom Thurmond (D-SC):
As southern senators opposed to the civil rights bill filibustered to prevent it from reaching the Senate floor for consideration, two senators on opposite sides of the issue participated in a live televised debate—Senator Hubert Humphrey (1911–1978), Democrat of Minnesota, the majority whip and floor manager of the fight to pass the bill; and Senator Strom Thurmond (1902–2003), then Democrat of South Carolina, who was fervently opposed to the bill. The debate was broadcast on March 18, 1964, on CBS Reports: Filibuster—Birth Struggle of a Law.
Much of the background and the role of the major and minor players is documented in Clay Risen’s The Bill of the Century: The Epic Battle for the Civil Rights Act
The Civil Rights Act of 1964 was the single most important piece of legislation passed by Congress in American history. It gave the government sweeping powers to strike down segregation, to enforce fair hiring practices, and to rectify bias in law enforcement and in the courts. The Act so dramatically altered American society that, looking back, it seems preordained—as Everett Dirksen, the GOP leader in the Senate and a key supporter of the bill, said, "no force is more powerful than an idea whose time has come.” But there was nothing predestined about the victory: a phalanx of powerful senators, pledging to "fight to the death” for segregation, launched the longest filibuster in American history to defeat it.
The journey of the Civil Rights Act was nothing less than a moral and political epic, a sweeping tale of undaunted activism, political courage, historic speeches, backroom deal-making and finally, hand-to-hand legislative combat. The larger-than-life cast of characters ranges from Senate lions like Hubert Humphrey and Strom Thurmond to NAACP lobbyist Charles Mitchell, called "the 101st senator” for his Capitol Hill clout, and industrialist J. Irwin Miller, who helped mobilize a powerful religious coalition for the bill. Looming over all was the figure of Lyndon Johnson, who deployed all his legendary skills to steer the controversial act through Congress.
This critical turning point in American history has never been thoroughly explored in a full-length narrative. Now, New York Times editor and acclaimed author Clay Risen delivers the full story, in all its complexity and drama.
For the 50th Anniversary in 2014, WaPo had this review of Risen’s book:
If the bill’s enactment appears inevitable 50 years after the fact, its fate appeared anything but predetermined to its contemporaries. “At the outset of 1963,” Risen reminds us, “few expected anything more than token federal action on civil rights.” President John F. Kennedy had done relatively little to disturb Southern congressmen who were implacably hostile to challenges to their region’s racial order and whose considerable seniority gave them the power to block his larger legislative program. That year’s events—particularly the campaign against segregation in Birmingham, the police repression directed against it, the March on Washington, and the seemingly countless smaller-scale protests across the nation—made federal inaction increasingly untenable and pushed a civil rights bill squarely onto the national political agenda.
But what kind of bill? The one Kennedy proposed had simultaneously provoked Southern whites’ ire and disappointed liberals and civil rights activists who found it too weak. Kennedy’s assassination in November changed everything, as a new president seized the moment to embrace the civil rights cause wholeheartedly. While the general contours of the bill’s origins and passage are known, how its supporters navigated it through rough congressional waters is not. In popular memory, and in more than a few books, the central players are President Johnson and Martin Luther King Jr. Risen maintains, however, that neither was the “prime mover”: King played no role in the crafting of the law, and Johnson’s part has been blown out of proportion. What the president offered was moral leadership, playing “cheerleader and exhorter in chief,” working the phones and attempting to twist congressional arms. Yet “there is little evidence that he did much to sway many votes.” Indeed, his fear of legislative failure, for which he would be blamed, led him to withdraw from his initial “close identification with the bill” and allow the Justice Department and congressional leaders to do the heavy lifting.
Ultimately, Risen insists, Johnson was “at most a supporting actor” in a drama whose “real heroes” were the Democrats and Republicans who collaborated, despite distrust of one another, to ensure the bill’s survival and triumph. It is their story—of daily strategy meetings, late-night drinking sessions, parliamentary maneuvers, and legislative give and take that overcame the longest filibuster in U.S. history and warded off debilitating amendments — that constitutes the book’s heart. Even though we know how the story ends, Risen offers a suspenseful tale, effectively conveying the apprehension that the bill’s supporters experienced until the moment it passed.
One of the other parts of the history not often referred to was the role played by First Lady Claudia Alta "Lady Bird" Johnson. My mom had her own theory about Lady Bird. Mom used to say that she felt Lady Bird pushed LBJ into “doing the right thing by colored folks,” causing him to reverse his prior opposition to civil rights legislation. I asked mom why she thought that. She replied, “A black woman gave her that nickname and helped raise her.” Mom had probably seen a photo of baby Claudia being held by her nursemaid Alice Tittle.
Lady Bird deserves a post of her own—so I’ll leave that as an open thought to explore for the future.
President Barack Obama spoke about LBJ and the Civil Rights Act at the Civil Rights Summit held in Austin in 2014:
Four days into his sudden presidency—and the night before he would address a joint session of the Congress in which he once served—Lyndon Johnson sat around a table with his closest advisors, preparing his remarks to a shattered and grieving nation.
He wanted to call on senators and representatives to pass a civil rights bill—the most sweeping since Reconstruction. And most of his staff counseled him against it. They said it was hopeless; that it would anger powerful Southern Democrats and committee chairmen; that it risked derailing the rest of his domestic agenda. And one particularly bold aide said he did not believe a President should spend his time and power on lost causes, however worthy they might be. To which, it is said, President Johnson replied, “Well, what the hell’s the presidency for?” (Laughter and applause.) What the hell’s the presidency for if not to fight for causes you believe in?
Today I can celebrate the passing of the act—and those who played a part in making it happen. I have clear memories of living under Jim Crow and was proud to see it go to hell. However, those Dixiecrats of old are still with us—they are now an entire Party—who call themselves Republicans. An open and unapologetic bigot sits in the Oval office. The Republican Party does not simply filibuster—it has stonewalled. Our civil rights, and voting rights are being unraveled—by gerrymandering and voter suppression. The Voting Rights Act was gutted. The Supreme Court balance may be shifted for generations to come. Systemic racism and sexism is alive and well, fostered by lies and obfuscations.
What we can and must learn from past victories is that they can be repeated. Do not allow yourselves to become discouraged and disheartened.
We are taking the struggle to the streets and to the legislatures and into the halls of Congress. We will organize and get people to the voting booths.
We will follow elected officials to their districts over the July 4th recess and thank those who have stood up for our rights and let those who are attempting to take them away hear our voices of outrage and approbation.
We are fighting back and pushing forward—together.
We will resist. We will persist.
Hope you all have a productive holiday weekend.