Little Rock Fever

The South

Children hawked Confederate pins in the lobby of Houston's Music Hall, banners and paper hatbands urged the selection of the evening's speaker as President of the U.S., and cops sprouted like potted palms. Arkansas Governor Orval Faubus had come to town, infecting Houston (pop. 897,600) with a slight case of the disease, symptomized by a rash of extremism, known as Little Rock fever.

On the eve of Faubus' arrival for a speech sponsored by the Sons of the American Revolution, Texas' Democratic Senator Lyndon Johnson had gone out of his way to speak against "the hotheads on both sides," admitted that "we're a little late in our section in recognizing that all men are created equal." If Faubus thought Johnson's remarks were aimed at him, he took the fact blandly; indeed, before he left he observed that Lyndon would make a fine President. He was also unruffled when a telephoned bomb threat set cops to swarming around the auditorium: "I was 300 days in combat with the infantry, so I'm not easily disturbed by such things."

Faubus' speech was mostly about the Bill of Rights and how the citizens of Arkansas have been deprived of benefits of same ("It seems that sometimes, in the name of freedom, we are about to destroy certain of our freedoms"). Not until nearly the end was there much excitement: then, when Faubus proclaimed that "one of my grandfathers, about five times removed" had fought under Washington in the American Revolution, a sardonic voice cried out: "Hooray for your grandfather."

A dozen angry men arose from the audience to seek out the heckler, one Daniel L. Rosenstein, M.D. The growing commotion almost drowned out the last words of Faubus' speech (". . . freedom for all Americans"), as police escorted Rosenstein and his wife from the hall, hid them behind a lobby sign advertising Capitol Records until most of the crowd had left. But about 200 people stayed behind to shout, as Dr. and Mrs. Rosenstein were taken to their car: "Go back to Russia," and "Where's your party card?" At that, nobody got hurt; it was only a mild case of Little Rock fever.

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