by Larry Berman
The navy devised many ways to circumvent Truman’s executive order by emphasizing qualitative recruitment and merit promotion. Bud always recalled his days detailing surface warfare lieutenants in the Bureau of Naval Personnel. At the start of the job, he was given a briefing on how to use the system to deny black sailors the opportunity to become officers, that is, how to get black sailors to wash out of the navy: As soon as a black was commissioned, assign him to the Recruiting Service. It was undeniable that the navy needed black officers in the field recruiting in black areas. After completing this normal tour, extend him for another year, thus giving the sailor a lengthy shore tour as opposed to the normal sea tour as first duty; thus black officers would already be falling behind. Then, assign the black officer to an amphibious or auxiliary ship, which in those days was considered less professionally challenging than assignments to combat ships. The result would be that by the end of this tour, the black officers, having had less rewarding assignments and less professionally acceptable assignments than their contemporaries, would be passed over by selection boards. “It was suggested that those few who escaped this screen by promotion could then be similarly hazarded as lieutenant commanders.”50
The navy practiced tokenism right up until Bud took over. Bud believed that racism was “endemic” in the entire structure of the navy—from the smallest boats to highest headquarters. “In my judgment there’s absolutely no doubt that Admiral Anderson, Admiral McDonald, and Admiral Moorer all sought to maintain a lily white Navy. Ike Kidd used to tell me that when he was aide to Admiral McDonald, when I was aide to Paul Nitze, that it just shivered him to listen to some of the things that were said in his office. I hasten to add that Admiral McDonald is a man whom I consider to have a basically decent Christian attitude toward people. But as late as when Mouza and I went down to visit Admiral McDonald when I was CNO and he was retired down at Ponte Vedra, he was telling me about a black fellow that was interested in going to the Naval Academy and said, “I think I’m going to help that fellow. He’s a pretty good nigger.”51
Less than 1 percent of the officer corps were African American, yet 12 percent of the population was black. In 1971 blacks made up 5.3 percent of the navy but only 0.7 percent of the officer ranks.52 All of the other services had much better representation. Looking at those numbers, Bud realized that with an all-volunteer force, black recruitment would be a benefit for them as well as for the navy. Bud created two retention study groups, one for black officers and their wives and the other for black enlisted men and their wives. The unfiltered feedback left little doubt about what needed to be done. “I found myself absolutely astonished at the extent of my own ignorance as to the subtle ways in which the navy was discriminating. The lack of black beauty aids and soul foods in the commissaries and exchanges, the subtle forms of discrimination with regard to housing, the contention that housing would be available when telephone calls were made only to discover that housing was not available when blacks showed up in person. All were heartbreaking evidence to me that the navy, both internally and with regard to its external relationships with civilian communities, was far from a fully integrated organization.”
The retention meetings were especially emotional because the stories came from the heart and personal experience. “Prior to these meetings, I was convinced that, compared with the civilian community, we had relatively few racial problems in the Navy,” said Bud. At the sessions, people spoke about the total recruiting process, from the time someone came into the navy, and how because you were in the navy you were unable to do certain things, like going to a barber shop, because barbers did not know how to cut the hair of blacks. From things as small as that to the inability to get a good navy job because the good assignments were closed to blacks. There were no detailers or aides in the fast-track sections of BuPers to help blacks with assignment options.
Zumwalt’s successor as CNO, and his former vice chief, Admiral James Holloway, thought that Bud “was so overwhelmed by the reports of discrimination, harassment, and downright brutality coming out of these sessions that as he told me later, it left an indelible scar on his consciousness.”53 One poignant moment during a retention feedback session remained seared in Bud’s memory. One of his finest white flag officers, after hearing from a group of blacks, stood up to say that he had always been concerned for his stewards, that he had always done the right thing: “My boys have always been very happy,” said the admiral. This led the wife of one of the black officers, Esther Fisher, to stand up and ask, “Admiral, let me ask you—how old is that ‘boy’?” The admiral said, “Oh, I guess he’s 25 or 26, why?” Mrs. Fisher said, “Do you see what I mean?” The white flag officer didn’t, but Bud Zumwalt did.54 “I had never seen him quite that way but he was visibly shaken,” recalled Bill Norman. “And he said he had been in the Navy all these years and until this particular moment . . . when he heard people who were part of the Naval community, people who had served extremely well who all they wanted to do was be respected for their individual merit and worth as persons and no more, and they weren’t even receiving that. And he said, ‘I think I’ve seen it but I haven’t seen it.’ ”55
But Bud Zumwalt needed help. Thirty-two-year-old Lieutenant Commander William Norman had tendered his resignation after a decade in the navy, feeling that “the unceasing strain of the conflict between being black and being Navy” was no longer worth bearing. One of the navy’s most outstanding officers, he rarely received voluntary salutes, had been called a “goddam nigger” by a petty officer, and when teaching at the Naval Academy could not find anyone to rent him a room. He had tolerated it for as long as possible but decided that being navy and being black were incompatible. Norman had a friend at the minority recruiting desk who, upon learning that Norman had tendered his resignation, went to Bud to recommend that he meet with Bill Norman, even though Norman was not enamored with the idea of meeting another white CNO. “As far as I was concerned he was just another one of those people making all those promises and didn’t intend to do anything,” said Norman.56
Realizing he had nothing to lose, however, Norman agreed to the meeting, although he became irritated upon learning that the CNO had budgeted just fourteen minutes for their meeting. Norman prepared a list of twenty action items and presented them to the CNO.57 He had decided to test the new CNO’s commitment by asking him to end the navy’s practice of sequestering Filipinos in the steward rating, dating back to 1919. Navy admirals loved their Filipino stewards, could not envision a navy without them, and had rigged a racially segregated rating system. If Zumwalt was serious about reform, Norman told him to start there. Within a short time, Bud came out in support for hundreds of Filipino stewards, earning praise from Taylor Branch, who wrote in support of “your plans for dealing with the problem of frozen steward ratings.”58
Bud recalled the meeting with Norman thus: “He told me, in effect, ‘J’accuse!’ ”59 Knowing that he had only about ten minutes of Bud’s time, Norman had prepared “[the] hardest, tightest set of notes I have ever seen and he proceeded to tick off in staccato terms a whole set of ways in which the Navy was not doing well by its black personnel.” Bud hired Norman on the spot, telling him that he would accept the challenge but he needed Norman at his side.60 It was through Norman’s eyes that Bud began to see what it was like to be a minority member in the navy. The study groups revealed that blacks believed the navy was a segregationist service that cared little about the well-being of black or other minorities. “They were poignant meetings and I used it as an educational tool as well as everything else,” recalled Norman. “The thing that made it so good was that he understood it.” Blacks could not avoid perceiving the unequal promotion opportunities and the indifference to issues like housing at new assignments. Bill Thompson was present at the briefings and noticed the “body language of several senior officers and flag officers evincing embarrassment or discomfort; but there were a few who were defiant and essentially shrugged, ‘So what?’ ”61
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Norman and Zumwalt developed a close personal friendship and mutual respect. Said Norman, “As I grew to know him better, I began to see many of his human qualities, his sense of humor, and his extraordinary sensitivity and candor. He also has a relentless tenacity once he’s committed to a cause, and that was evident as he followed up his directives to make certain they were implemented. He insisted on fast facts and real numbers from people.”62 They had breakfast alone every Tuesday morning at Bud’s home and then drove to the office together.63 Mike Spiro, the marine aide on Zumwalt’s staff, was given clear instructions to make sure “that his Minority Affairs Officer, Bill Norman, had easy access to the CNO, traveled with us whenever and wherever feasible and ensured there was always time on his [Bud’s] schedule to meet with minority groups and to be briefed on minority affairs. The same policy extended to Mrs. Zumwalt who always met with minority groups while traveling with her husband.”64
Norman took the lead in writing Z-66, “Equal Opportunity in the Navy.” He first assembled a group of people he could trust. “I made certain that no one was going to stop it,” recalled Norman.65 Before releasing the Z-gram, Norman was obligated to run it by Bill Thompson, Jack Davey, and Robbie Robertson, all of whom felt it had to be toned down. Norman became as intransigent as he had ever been in his life. After much wrangling, they agreed to rephrase a couple of things and came up with the final line of the Z-gram: “There is no black navy, no white navy—just one navy—the United States Navy.”
On December 17, 1970, the CNO issued Z-66, directing every base, station, and aircraft squadron commander and ship commanding officer to appoint a special assistant for minority affairs with direct access to the chain of command. The new special assistant was to have direct access to the commanding officer and was to be consulted on all matters involving minority personnel. Zumwalt asked Norman to visit every major naval base in order to consult with commanding officers and minority personnel and families. “By learning in depth what our problems are, I believe we will be in a better position to work toward guaranteeing equal opportunity and treatment for all of our navy.”
Thus with one stroke of the pen, Bud Zumwalt put the navy on notice that he would not tolerate existing discrimination in housing, promotions, and opportunities. Zumwalt ended Z-66 with a personal pledge: “It is evident that we need to maximize our efforts to improve the lot of our minority Navymen. I am convinced that there is no place in the navy for insensitivity. We are determined to do better. Meanwhile, we are counting on your support to help seek out and eliminate those demeaning areas of discrimination that plague our minority shipmates. Ours must be a navy family that recognizes no artificial barriers of race, color or religion.”
Z-66 served as the foundation for a revolution. Almost 2,800 new positions were created in the chain of command for the purpose of advising commanders on the issue of equal opportunity. Some critics argued that establishment of the minority affairs officers bypassed the chain of command and thereby created a lack of discipline and order. The minority-affairs assistants established by Z-66 had direct access to their commanding officers. The assistant was to be the consultant for minority affairs, but 99 percent of the commanding officers were white and had little experience handling such issues. The system worked when the CO used the minority-affairs officer as a consultant and then implemented a solution through the chain of command. It did not work in cases where the CO used the minority-affairs officer to “solve all problems relating to minorities.” That type of unenlightened leadership did not supply the person with the necessary power and support to accomplish the task.
Black navymen memorized Z-66 because it served as a symbol of hope and empowerment from the first boss who ever really cared about their welfare. This is perhaps best illustrated in one handwritten letter from a self-identified “Black Petty Officer of the world’s No. 1 Navy,” writing only to say, “I Sir am extremely proud and near Tears as I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your wisdom, your clairvoyance and your great courage to stand tall and tell it like it’s gotta Be.”66
In 1971 Samuel Gravely, Jr., became the first African American to achieve the rank of rear admiral and in 1976 was the first to be advanced to the rank of vice admiral. In looking back on Zumwalt’s role, Gravely explained, “The normal way things happen in the Pentagon is that the CNO comes up with an idea, checks it out with his deputies and they sit around and chew the fat [until] the CNO says, ‘Well, I don’t give a damn how you feel about it, but this is the way I am going to go.’ And he does it and the guys try to back him to the fullest. [I believe] some of the things the CNO felt strongly about had never been tried on some of these deputies before they heard, ‘here comes a program.’ The automatic thing was to resent that.”67
In January 1971, Bud established the ad hoc CNO Advisory Committee on Race Relations and Minority Affairs. He appointed Bill Norman as executive director. The committee’s report, Navy Race Relations and Minority Affairs Programs, stated that the goal of the navy was to “create and maintain a Navy image of equal opportunity and treatment regardless of race, creed, religion, or national origin” and to “increase and intensify the Navy’s efforts to attain and retain the highest quality officer and enlisted volunteers from the minority community, thus seeking to achieve increased representation of minority personnel in various categories and grades of service.” As John Sherwood noted, “The document made not only equal opportunity but also affirmative action a Navy goal.”68
Perhaps the defining moment in Zumwalt’s transition to being a revolutionary in the racial area occurred in June 1971, when he was scheduled to speak before the National Newspaper Publishers Association in Atlanta. Bud intended to give a major speech on race in the navy. Norman flew down early and met with retired sailors and minority officers who would be in the room, many of whom had served in World War II as stewards. They still saw little evidence that the navy had changed, “because all they could see was the black faces replaced by the brown faces of the Filipino, and blacks still were in demeaning jobs, and they hardly had any officers compared to the other services.”69 They doubted that Zumwalt was really any different, but Norman pleaded with them to give this white guy from Tulare a chance.
When Bud arrived in Atlanta, he was more nervous than Norman ever recalled seeing him. Norman noticed this from the kinds of questions Bud was asking during the car ride from the airport. He was feeling a bit insecure and asked Norman to sit on the platform with him. Norman urged Bud not to read his speech, because he was so much better speaking from his heart. The man who issued Z-66 gave the speech of a lifetime, turning an audience of doubters into believers. He closed with a story about Hannibal preparing to cross the mountains. The passage was going to be treacherous with many obstacles, and Hannibal went to his men and said, “It is on this wind that we succeed or die.” Zumwalt tied the quotation to the contemporary problems of inequality and discriminatory practices. But he was talking about a navy that was going to be one navy, and he was going to succeed. “He meant it and they knew he meant it,” recalled Norman. “For the first time in my life I felt proud to be in the Navy. We had black officers with tears because it was the first time that they thought they could remember that they felt proud. That they didn’t feel they had to apologize for what was happening to other blacks in the navy.”70
In the eyes of the audience, “He became ‘superman,’ ” said Norman. The ripple effects were obvious to Norman. Minority officers started willingly giving up their navy careers in order to recruit for Zumwalt’s new navy, to work as minority-affairs assistants in race relations, to work together for the greater good. This spawned extraordinary community outreach programs aimed at bringing the face of the navy into minority communities.71 This new navy came from Watts, the South Side of Chicago, from Fourteenth and U in Washington, D.C., and from Harlem. “What we started bringing to the navy was a piece of real American life with all its problems and everything else. These kinds of men and women were not goi
ng to tolerate the injustices and the prejudices as people had before,” said Norman. That was because Bud Zumwalt had said there’s not going to be any discrimination.
“We made some institutional changes that will never be reversed without the navy being torn asunder,” said Norman.72 Bud considered Bill Norman’s contributions to the navy as being “beyond measure,” but even more important was the fact that Norman’s efforts had “unquestionably, spared the Naval service from racially generated difficulties of unprecedented magnitude and, in fact, have helped transform the forces of division into mortar with which to build. He has, almost singlehandedly, laid the foundation upon which a new Navy family that recognizes no artificial barriers of race, color, sex, or religion today is being built.”73
This tide of change was most evident in the way Z-66 was being implemented on ships under the command of enlightened leaders. Lew Glenn, executive officer on the USS Vreeland, wrote about how the Vreeland was working on implementing the policies behind the Z-grams. The VRAS (Vreeland Racial Anthropology Session) met three times weekly with about thirty crew members and had been extremely “successful in making the crew aware of their true feelings.”74 Bud responded by noting that the Vreeland’s “progress in [the] human relations area is most heartening.” He was especially excited about the establishment of the striker (enlistees who had qualified for a rating but had not yet advanced to petty officer third class) selection board, calling it enlightening because “I believe this is a most viable way to solve one of the more serious aspects of discrimination, that of denial of equal opportunity in assignments. Job satisfaction is such a basic human need that I feel if we could bring complete fairness to our assignment practices that we would have licked a major fraction of our racial equality challenges.”75