Kellams:This is Ozarks at Large. We're continuing a Monday streak here of listening to some Arkansas songs at this time of the show.
Dixon: Getting Arkansas history, of course. Of course. Little nuggets of knowledge.
Kellams: It's Randy Dixon with the David and Barbara Pryor Center for Arkansas Oral and Visual History.
Dixon: Well, we just heard the official state anthem. Yes. So we've heard the historic song, we've heard the official state song. And this was "Arkansas," written by Eva Ware Barnett in 1916 and was designated the anthem in 1987. So the song is like a patriotic tribute to the natural beauty, climate and hometown pride of the state. All right. I just did my little PR plug there.
Kellams: Fitting for what we're talking about.
Dxion: Yeah. And so as we continue our history of Arkansas, we're reviewing parts of a KATV four-part docu-series produced in 1976 to celebrate the bicentennial of America. So in this episode, we're going to look at Arkansas from 1946 to 1976, mainly through the history of our governors. Okay. With the return of the multitudes of World War II veterans back home, there came a change to the political climate, especially in Arkansas, but all over the country. So our host for this program, Bob Gregory, tells us about a post-war political rising star who became the nation's youngest governor here in Arkansas.
Bob Gregory: Sidney S. McMath was 36 when he organized the Government Improvement League, made up largely of war veterans who promptly shortened the organization's name to its initials. They called it the G.I. and themselves the GIs. With McMath leading, they took on the tarnished power structure in the 1946 elections, called in the FBI to ensure an honest vote count and won in a landslide. They carried every major city and county office, having won in Hot Springs. McMath ran for governor a year later and won, bringing into office the dreams of reform and wanting most of all to correct the state's unending series of crooked elections and to improve the condition of Arkansas schools, then among the worst in the nation. He made progress in either area, but McMath is remembered mainly for having created a four-year program to improve state roads. They too were horrible.
Sid McMath: Well, Arkansas at that particular time was a comparatively poor state. Our road system had deteriorated. Of course, no road work had been done during the war years. We had to have roads in order to realize our potential in this state. We were losing population. We had not only to build roads, but we had to get electricity in the rural areas. We had an $80 million road building program. We borrowed some $36 million. We borrowed that money at an interest rate of 2%, and we had an excellent road building program. There were 12 counties that didn't have a single hard surface road, and we went out of office. We had a hard surface road into every county seat in Arkansas, and we laid the foundation for the present road program that we have in Arkansas.
Kellams: Sid McMath — two terms. So back then that meant four years because they were two-year terms. Went in very popular, very populist. What happened to his third term?
Dixon: Well, he got into fights. He got sideways with the utilities and lumber companies and some of the big industry around the state. So he did not make a third term. So enter a man by the name of Francis Cherry.
Gregory: McMath was followed as governor in the early '50s by an obscure circuit judge from Craighead County, whose name was Francis Cherry. He was the first politician to extensively use the campaign gimmick called radio talk-a-thons. He would buy time from a local radio station and sit in a setting pretty much like this, sometimes in the empty window of a department store, and then answer questions over the air called in by listeners. Well, he won in 1952. Two years later, television had come along, and that was the campaign to first use television talk-a-thons.
Customarily, Democratic governors in Arkansas could count on two terms. It was almost automatic. But Cherry had accumulated formidable enemies, men whose devotion to politics was measured by their control of politicians. Cherry's indifference to that sort of thing forced him into a runoff in 1954, with an unknown and former highway commissioner named Orval Faubus. It was a rough campaign, but Cherry lost. The era was about to begin for the most colorful, most dramatic, most unconventional, most controversial southern politician since Huey Long — the shrewd, the powerful, and for 12 years, unbeatable: Orval Faubus.
Kellams: Francis Cherry was governor, but he only had one term. I mean, you know, traditionally you were guaranteed two terms since they were two-year terms. You were barely getting started. And that well, it happened again to Bill Clinton a few years later, but he of course came back. Yeah.
Kellams: And here's the thing: if back in those days, if you had a two-year term, that meant you only met with the legislature once. Right. Because it was biennial, there was no fiscal session. Yeah.
Dixon: You were still setting up your administration, really.
Kellams: And I — now you probably know this, John Davis, your executive director of the Pryor Center, would certainly know this — if you were, say, elected as governor for your first two-year term and the legislature's been elected, so you've been elected in November, you deal with the legislature that coming January, right?
Dixon: I believe that's correct.
Kellams: And then you don't have the legislature again.
Dixon: Right.
Kellams: That's a weird setup.
Dixon: Yeah it is. Well, that's why they changed it to four. But with Cherry's exit, thus begins the reign of Orval Faubus. He was in the governor's mansion a total of 12 years — six consecutive terms. And the man was as controversial as he was successful.
Gregory: Yeah, he came from the hills. A small place called Greasy Creek near Huntsville in northwest Arkansas. Before the Highway Commission, his career had been as versatile as his life had been plain. He was a migrant worker, a circuit court clerk, and had run the local newspaper for the folks in Greasy Creek.
Shortly after taking office, Faubus created the Arkansas Industrial Development Commission and requested that its chairman be the erstwhile Easterner cum country squire Winthrop Rockefeller. Rockefeller agreed, and within nine years, in 1964, more than 600 new industries had come to Arkansas. At Rockefeller's urging, it was a Faubus-inspired program that Rockefeller executed brilliantly, selling Arkansas and its environment to the rest of the country. Faubus had little trouble winning a second term in 1956, and up until then had talked and behaved like a moderate. There was no evidence that he would become the most powerful governor in Arkansas history, nor that for a while he would be a folk hero to the Deep South, a symbol of defiance of the federal government, a pioneer of so-called massive resistance to the integration of public schools.
Kellams: Let's hear about his involvement and just sort of what exactly happened at Central High.
Gregory: The Little Rock School Board planned to admit nine blacks that year, but the Capital Citizens Council started a propaganda drive in August against integration. A month later, there were rumors of possible violence if the school board went ahead with its plan. The board asked for help from the city, from the state, from the federal courts. Not one responded. Not one wanted to get involved. Faubus had said he would never force integration on anyone and he kept his word.
On Sept. 2, he ordered the National Guard to Central to prevent disorder and to prevent integration. The guard stayed there for 18 days until a federal court ordered its removal. The federal government itself still refused to intervene to help keep the peace. Sept. 23, the Black students returned to Central, this time protected by city police and by state police. Three hours later, the crowd outside had become a mob and so large that the Blacks were removed. That afternoon, the mayor of Little Rock requested federal troops. The next day, Sept. 24, 1957, President Eisenhower responded, first federalizing the Arkansas National Guard and then sending in the 101st Airborne Division. That night, for the first time since the Civil War, a southern city was occupied by United States troops. The troops cleared the Central area of mobs, and they stayed in Little Rock the rest of the school year. And Orval Faubus, describing the situation as a test of states' rights and ever after defending his actions as peacefully motivated, became a national figure.
Faubus: What happened here was probably minor in the perspective of 20 years. The burning of the cities in the '60s, the violence, the riots, demonstrations, and yes, the hypocrisy — so many northern and eastern cities which had been so critical not only of Little Rock, but all of Arkansas — later, would be unable to solve the same problem.
Kellams: Of course, this was on the nightly news when everyone watched the nightly news. So Orval Faubus and Arkansas are part of the national conversation.
Dixon: Oh, he became a national figure. And like I said before, it happened early in his career and it cemented his hold on Arkansas politics and voters. And he continued to win in Arkansas.
Gregory: He ran for governor four more times in a row and he won. His unique appeal established a pattern of power that very probably will never be repeated. What he wanted, he got — whether from the people or the General Assembly. The mystery about Faubus is not that he went so far, but why he didn't go farther. National office seemed within his grasp, and the prospect was good that he could have defeated either of the two Democratic senators in a primary. But he never chose to challenge. He stayed home, preferring not to become a presidential candidate. Just a big fish in a little pond. But maybe that's what he wanted. He was challenged only once, in 1964. Winthrop Rockefeller, having brought so much industry to Arkansas and having pumped so much of his own money into the state's anemic Republican Party, decided to test Faubus. He resigned from the Arkansas Industrial Development Commission and jumped into politics. But he was premature, seeking hand to hand combat with a masterly fighter in a battle on the incumbent's home field. Besides, Arkansas had not elected a Republican governor since Reconstruction. Everything was in favor of Faubus, who at the time appeared quite likely to govern forever. Rockefeller put up a good scrap, but he came in second. Orval Faubus won his sixth term, even though the campaign had some spark and color, neither of which had been seen since Faubus first came to power. At times condescending, always flavorful, Faubus invested the fight of '64 with humor, democratic self-confidence and supreme faith in the Arkansas voters. It showed whenever he and Rockefeller were together.
Faubus: Well, I would go back to what another politician said once upon a time — if you can't stand the heat, you better not get in the kitchen.
Rockefeller: I have seen no signs of my getting out of the campaign, and I don't believe that the people of Arkansas will see any signs of getting out of the campaign.
Gregory: In the end, Faubus called it quits. He decided not to run in 1966, except for the shortest way back to Huntsville, where he had started 12 remarkable years earlier.
Dixon: After he decided not to run, he moved to north Arkansas, built a mansion, where he wrote his memoirs. He was the general manager of Dogpatch USA for a while. Heck, he was even a bank teller at the — was it the Bank of Huntsville? But Faubus later ran again three more times for governor over the years and just never — right, never quite had the spark.
Kellams: Can you imagine going in to say the Bank of Searcy and you walk up and there's Mike Beebe as your teller?
Dixon: Yeah, that would be strange. But after he decided not to run, we heard earlier about his director of industrial development.
Kellams: Mm-hm.
Dixon: He was a blue blood from the northeast.
Gregory: He was on the cover of Time magazine in 1966, the first Republican governor of Arkansas since 1873, and few men made more important contributions to Arkansas in the 1950s and '60s than Winthrop Rockefeller.
He came to Arkansas in 1953 on the suggestion of a wartime buddy, and purchased much of the top of Petit Jean Mountain, which would become the famous Winrock Farm. He was eastern Republican and wealthy. Otherwise, he was not a traditional Rockefeller. A college dropout who had worked in the Texas oil fields — unhappy with the family businesses, he never really found himself until he got here. Eleven years later, he was governor.
Rockefeller: I'm convinced that this is a true victory for the people, and I am thrilled that you have said to the rest of the nation, yes, we in Arkansas want a two-party system.
Gregory: Rockefeller also thought that they wanted Hot Springs gambling closed down permanently. There had been earlier efforts by both Sid McMath and Orval Faubus to clean it up, but neither was completely successful. Rockefeller would be running on the slogan that he had cleaned up Hot Springs. Rockefeller sought a second term in 1968 and won it. He was bringing to Arkansas enormous, favorable publicity. The harsh image of Little Rock was fading, and there was talk of a new South, progressive and growing. Rockefeller went after a third term in 1970, but was beaten badly, getting fewer votes than in 1964 when he first ran against Faubus. His time was up. When Rockefeller died of cancer in 1973, the Arkansas Gazette received a lot of telephone calls from people who asked if Rockefeller would remain in the state. Would he be buried here? His ashes were scattered on Winrock Farm.
Kellams: You know, I hadn't thought about it until right now, Randy, but Winthrop Rockefeller and Sid McMath have a little in common. Both go in as a wave of reform. Right? Both do some reform, both make some enemies, and both are denied a third term.
Dixon: Right. I think Rockefeller maybe had a little bit more to fall back on other than practicing law like he did probably. But yeah, I think he did okay with his mountaintop that he had bought.
Kellams: But, you know, he came in with prison reform and all sorts of
Dixon: Oh, gosh. Gambling in Hot Springs, as we mentioned. But you know, he was the first Republican governor since Reconstruction. And that was not the beginning of a Republican wave, which we do have now. So after the '60s left, so did this GOP influence, and it was sort of back to business as usual with the Democrats in charge with this man.
Gregory: 1970 belonged to the Democrats, the debut of a new star, the resurrection of an old one. There were eight candidates for the Democratic nomination for governor. Two overwhelmed the field: Dale Bumpers from Charleston, and former Governor Orval Faubus from Huntsville. Coming out of retirement, Faubus was restless, eager to get his old job back, and most people thought he would. So from the very first, Dale Bumpers was underestimated.
Dale Bumpers: But he — one of so many of these people. And then after I went on television, we certainly gathered a lot of additional momentum with that, and many hundreds and hundreds of people went to work for us that I have never met, still have never met. And I don't want to sound trite or political, but I think it really was a people's victory.
Gregory: As governor, Bumpers, according to one comment, had the personality and the right party emblem to carry out the Rockefeller program, which a hostile legislature had looked on with reluctance, if not disdain. The comment turned out to be true. The General Assembly approved the Bumpers plan for reorganization of state government, and he was also successful in restructuring the state's tax system. People at the bottom were excused from income taxes. Those at the top had their taxes raised from 5 to 7%. Bumpers had four opponents in 1972, but easily won a second term. All the while, his popularity was growing, so much so that he was soon to look toward the Senate.
Kellams: You know, a lot of times the governors that get elected in Arkansas are younger, and sort of represent a shift, if at least in tone. And Dale Bumpers was that.
Dixon: Yes. And then went on to the Senate. Right. Sort of under the same circumstances. Right. Well, he decidedly defeated William Fulbright for his seat. And that left the governor's position to be filled by our namesake, David Pryor.
Gregory: David Pryor. The consensus was that the election would be close. No one expected a landslide. But that's what happened. And Dale Bumpers suddenly had acquired the aura of invincibility that had once been Fulbright's, and that had once seen its most obvious expression in Orval Faubus. And out of retirement, he came again in 1974 to make another run for governor. It had been 20 years since his first election, and he thought, probably, that he still had enough of that old magic. He had some, but not enough. And so the state chose David Pryor to lead it toward the bicentennial, and would later elect him to lead it beyond. What Pryor represented was youth and change, a new face and the New South. And he was ready.
David Pryor: I'm going to do everything I can to continue the progress of our state, to make a better life for every citizen of this state, to help to preserve our natural resources, to help to build up our conservation areas, to help in every respect those areas of interest which we hold so near and so dear.
Kellams: You know, obviously Bob Gregory had to stop this project in 1976 because that's when it was broadcast. Yeah, there's a lot more that's about to happen that you really don't know.
Dixon: That's true. Maybe we ought to do the one coming up on that, but I think I could probably get a little more material out of this docu-series if you think you want to hear it. Some stories of how towns were started. And just some other little tidbits about Arkansas. So I'll squeeze one more out and we can do it one more week. How's that?
Kellams: I like that, okay.
Dixon: Well, can we close with another listen to the full "Arkansas," which is designated the anthem of the state of Arkansas?
Kellams: We will listen to at least some. Yeah, I make no promises.
Dixon: Please. Please don't. Yeah. It's not my favorite tune. Yeah, but it is — don't you think we should? Noteworthy. So we have an official song, we have an official anthem, we have the unofficial official song, we have the historic song.
Kellams: We need to have an official ditty. Oh, a ditty. So let's get on that. Okay, let's have people submit their official Arkansas ditties. But right now we'll go out with the anthem.
He's Randy Dixon with the David and Barbara Pryor Center for Arkansas Oral and Visual History. Thank you, Randy.
Dixon: Thank you. I'll see you next week.
Ozarks at Large transcripts are created on a rush deadline and edited for length and clarity. Copy editors utilize AI tools to review work. KUAF does not publish content created by AI. Please reach out to kuafinfo@uark.edu to report an issue. The audio version is the authoritative record of KUAF programming.
