By Douglas B. Huron
Mr. Douglas B. Huron, who began his legal career in 1970 trying cases of employment discrimination with the Employment Litigation Section of the Civil Rights Division of the Department of Justice, recently spoke at a conference at American University Law School on the history and accomplishments of the Section, which for many years was headed by Fellow David Rose. Here are Mr. Huron's remarks:
The Early Days of Title VII Enforcement
More than anything else, today is a tribute to Dave Rose. That is appropriate for many reasons. Not only for his unparalleled leadership in advancing fair employment, but also for his work training young lawyers to emulate him – and to be diligent, thoughtful and unflappable. I’m indebted to Dave in a host of ways.
I’m speaking last on this panel, because this is a segue to the panel after lunch, which deals with police and fire cases and the testing guidelines, among other things. Of course, the trigger for the guidelines was the Supreme Court’s decision in Griggs versus Duke Power. And my first assignment from Dave, after I started in July 1970, was to write the legislative history of section 703(h) of Title VII for the Solicitor General’s brief in Griggs. And to do that, I had to read the legislative history of the Senate debate on what became the Civil Rights Act of 1964. Today, the debate is probably easily searchable. But this was the era before computers, so I had to read all the debate, to make sure I wasn’t missing something.
Congress stood tall back then. And no one stood taller than Hubert Humphrey of Minnesota, the floor leader for the civil rights bill for the Democratic majority in the Senate. Humphrey was everywhere, answering questions about the bill’s provisions, responding to quorum calls, cajoling the Republican leader, Everett Dirksen, and finally bringing him around. And in the end, Humphrey orchestrated the vote breaking the Southern filibuster. That was harder in those days, because back then it took two-thirds of the Senate – 67 votes – not 60. Humphrey wasn’t taking chances. And on the day of the vote, Senator Clair Engle of California, was wheeled into the Senate chamber on his deathbed, unable to speak, and voted “aye” by pointing to his eye.
Humphrey was masterful as the winter of ‘64 turned to spring, and finally to summer, when the Civil Rights Act of 1964 passed and was signed. He was at the peak of his powers. That came through the normally dry legislative history. But something else came through, too – the seeds of Humphrey’s downfall four years later, in 1968. Two lonely Senators repeatedly interrupted the debate -- Wayne Morse of Oregon and Ernest Gruening of Alaska. Addressing the chair, they would ask, “Mr. President, what about the war in Vietnam?”
On the Monday after New Year’s Day in 1972, January 3, the Alabama NAACP sued the Alabama state troopers in Montgomery, the seat of the Middle District of Alabama, which had only one judge, Frank Johnson. The troopers had never had a black officer and were the instrument used by governors such as George Wallace to enforce segregation. Judge Johnson, in contrast, had been desegregating Alabama institutions even since he was first appointed by President Eisenhower. In 1956, he and Fifth Circuit Judge Richard Rives formed the majority on a three-judge district court that struck down the Montgomery ordinance requiring segregation on buses, against which Rosa Parks and a young pastor, Martin Luther King, Jr., led a boycott.
In early 1972, Title VII did not yet cover state and local agencies, so the trooper suit was brought under section 1983 and the Fourteenth Amendment. And there was no law allowing the Attorney General to enforce the amendment’s equal protection guarantee. But I’m convinced that Judge Johnson knew what he wanted to do with the state troopers. And to do it, he needed a solid record, so he appointed the United States as amicus curiae, with all the rights of a party.
It turned out that the United States, meant me. I had done some enforcement work on the Frazer case against the Alabama merit system, which Dave talked about and which he tried before Judge Johnson. And Dave sent me to Montgomery, along with a research analyst, Helen Lom. Like the other research analysts in the Section, Helen was extraordinary.
The private plaintiffs, the Alabama NAACP and a rejected applicant, were represented by Morris Dees, a self-made millionaire in the direct mail business and the founder of the Southern Poverty Law Center in Montgomery. Four years later, in 1976, Morris was the chief fundraiser for an obscure ex-governor of Georgia who was running for President. And he prevailed on me to leave the Division and join the Carter campaign. But that’s another story.
The troopers were about to hire a class in January 1972, and Morris moved for a preliminary injunction. Judge Johnson set it down for early February, which meant that Helen and I had about three weeks to prepare, including finding an expert in police testing.
The hearing itself went fairly smoothly, the only glitch coming when I momentarily could not find an exhibit Judge Johnson wanted to see. He bellowed, “I want that exhibit, and I want it now!” Needless to say, he got it.
At the end of the hearing, Judge Johnson said he would issue a ruling soon. At that point, Walter Allen, the head of the trooper force, spoke up. He said that the state desperately needed to hire more troopers, so he pleaded with the judge to rule quickly. “Well,” replied Judge Johnson, “I can tell you what I’m going to do.” And he hit the state between the eyes.
Alabama had unconstitutionally excluded blacks from the position of state trooper, he said. And from now on, the state would be required to hire one black trooper for every white hired, until the trooper force was 25 percent black. That was exactly the relief requested by the United States. But as I said, Judge Johnson was way ahead of us.
In the Employment Section, when I was there, there was one word that we were forbidden to use. That word was quota. We never asked for quotas. Maybe goals, or if we were feeling especially daring, affirmative hiring ratios. But not quotas.
You know the old saw -- if it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it’s probably a duck. Well, what Frank Johnson did to the Alabama state troopers sure as hell quacked like a quota.
We used to say that quotas were rigid and inflexible, unlike goals, which were always subject to the availability of qualified applicants. But can you imagine what Judge Johnson would have done if somebody told him there weren’t enough qualified African Americans to meet his order? “Qualified blacks are out there,” he told Walter Allen when he ruled from the bench. “I want you to find them.”
The old Fifth Circuit certainly understood that Judge Johnson had imposed a quota on state trooper hiring. The court sustained, and I’m quoting, “the conclusion of the district judge that quota relief was essential to make meaningful progress towards eliminating the unconstitutional practices and to overcome the patrol's thirty-seven year reputation as an all-white organization.”
I argued the appeal in New Orleans, and Dave went down with me, probably to make sure that the word quota never passed my lips. And it never did. But today, I’m proud that I had a small role in supporting Judge Johnson’s imposition of a quota. Within a decade, the Alabama troopers had more African American officers than any highway patrol in the country.
I’ve talked about two monumental figures in civil rights history – Senator Hubert Humphrey and Judge Frank Johnson. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention another person, one who is known mainly to the people gathered here – my dear friend Jack Davis, dead these many years.
I got to know Jack working on the Newark building trades case in the early ‘70’s. I saw him bluff the business manager of an Ironworkers local in a deposition, making the guy believe Jack had incriminating documents. Then he utterly destroyed him.
I had many friends in the Division, but Jack was the closest. Vicki alluded to this – that people in the Division, and especially the Section, liked to have a good time. None more so than Jack. One night, he and Yvonne Betts, who was also in Newark for a while, helped me integrate a club in the heart of the city. As I recall, one of the performers at the club was some guy who called himself Prince Voodoo. He had a rubber snake around his neck, and he was mumbling some curses. At one point, Prince Voodoo threw the rubber snake to the floor. And that sucker started slithering. Yvonne screamed – and jumped into Jack’s lap. I think I might have spilled some of my beer, too.
Let me say thank you to Senator Humphrey. And to Judge Johnson. And a special thanks to Jack Davis, who was the best of what we had in the Division.
Thank you for your attention.
- Doug Huron