It was appropriate that Georgia's Senator Richard Brevard Russell pronounced virtually the last words in the week that smashed the civil rights bill. For courtly Dick Russell had also had the first important words in the civil rights debate. In the interval the words, thoughts and plans of this extraordinarily influential Senator had been echoed, magnified, repeated, debated in both houses of Congress, at the White House, in presidential press conferences, on radio, TV, and in newspaper editorials across the land. When the time came for his resolute Southern rearguard to do battle against the first civil rights bill since 1875 that seemed destined to pass, the legions of his enemies were reeling in confusion.
Dick Russell did not direct the tactics that broke the bill. That was the work of Majority Leader Lyndon Baines Johnson, who was more interested in holding together a Democratic Party than in preserving the extreme rights of the Deep South. But Rearguard Commander Russell chose the intellectual battlefield, laid down the lines of argument, and was never dislodged by the overwhelming manpower mustered by the Republican leadership, by the Democrats' own liberals, by the brigades of Administration lawyers, or even by the President of the U.S. It was one of the notable performances of Senate history.
"It's Up to You." It began July 3, when Russell called his Southern colleagues to a caucus in his office, Room 205 of the Senate Office Building. The meeting was informal—no votes, no minutes. Not even the most trusted secretary was allowed in the room. "Well, fellows," he said, "I think there are some things we ought to talk about."
Russell took his accustomed seat at the head of the table, opened the discussion and did most of the talking. Softly in his Southern cadence he outlined dangers to the South in the new situation. No one was better qualified to assess it: in his 24 years in the Senate he had fought ten extended battles over race legislation, from the 30-day filibuster of the anti-lynching bill in 1935 to the nine-day filibuster over Harry Truman's Fair Employment Practices Act in 1950. Always the legislation had actually been withdrawn and the South had won.
This time the tactics that had worked in the past might not work again, he said. The Solid South was weakening; Tennessee and Texas no longer regularly attended Southern caucuses, and the South's senatorial dependables were down from 22 to 18. It was clear that the dependables might not have the physical resources to win a filibuster. Secondly, they could no longer count on substantial aid, comfort, or at least neutrality from conservative Republicans who once helped Southern Democrats in the interests of defeating the civil rights legislation of a Democratic Administration.
This time President Eisenhower was proposing the legislation, Republican Senate Leader Knowland was in the forefront, and Vice President Nixon was turning on the heat behind the scenes. Therefore, argued Russell, the Southerners should not try to smother the civil rights bill of 1957 with words; instead, they should first try to amend the bill drastically, and be prepared for its eventual passage, even though they might reserve the right to try a filibuster at the bitter end.