In his six months as a history professor at Mississippi's 86-year-old Alcorn Agricultural and Mechanical College, Clennon King, 36, was a constant irritant to the state-run Negro campus. A Tuskegee graduate with an M.A. from Western Reserve, he was often rude to his students. He also aroused the wrath of President J. R. Otis for his habit of writing letters to the press on issues of the day. Last week the Jackson State Times began publishing a series of articles by Professor King that threatened to blow little (561 students) Alcorn right out of existence.
King charged that the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People was closing the doors of opportunity to Negroes by arousing the antagonisms of whites. Negroes that belong to it are the "real Uncle Toms"—those that foist themselves upon white society because they feel inferior. "It is impossible," said King, "for the ordinary Negro to feel close to the N.A.A.C.P. save only in a superficial sense."
When the first article appeared. King's students promptly began boycotting his classes. They were not so much outraged by what the professor had said as by the picture that the Times had run showing some of them in his class. This, they insisted, compromised the whole college. During the next two days the sense of outrage grew, until all the students on campus agreed that unless Professor King resigned or was fired they would leave the school.
At a mass meeting in the chapel. King appeared with handkerchief in hand and tearfully begged the students for understanding. "I'm a Negro just like you are," he said. "I sit in a Jim Crow car just like you do." But he refused to resign. Said Student Council President Ernest McEwen: "As far as the students are concerned, the institution is dead."
After the meeting students began packing up to leave. At week's end the state college board declared that those who did not report to their classes on Monday would be considered expelled, which would mean that they would never be eligible for any other Mississippi-run campus. For good measure, it also condemned the administration for having ''wholly failed," fired President Otis, and appointed a new man. The week ended in total confusion. King said he was fired. The board said he was not. The question still remained: would Alcorn have enough students to stay alive?