Huckabee

by Scott Lamb

  Huckabee recognizes that in the midst of the chaos, there were a few bright spots in Arkansas. For example, the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. that year led to a public demonstration of solidarity between the governor of Arkansas and the civil rights movement. He recalled,

  I remember vividly the tragic and senseless murder of a man who both taught and lived the model of non-violent resistance. . . .

  The day after Dr. King was killed[,] Governor Rockefeller stood with black leaders on the steps of the Arkansas State Capitol. He linked arms with them and he sang “We Shall Overcome” as a tribute to Dr. King.

  It was a remarkable act of courage on the part of Governor Rockefeller . . .

  Because of the vision and leadership of Dr. King . . . things are much different today.

  No longer are there separate water fountains, theater entrances, and restrooms for people of color. No longer do people who are black sit in separate waiting rooms in a doctor’s office or a train station. No longer does a person of color receive a different wage than a white person for doing the same job.

  And no longer is a black child forced to go to a separate and inferior school than the white child.23

  The task of making sense out of difficult pages of history becomes easier when you’ve had three decades to analyze the events. In 1968, however, Hope’s high school was not yet even integrated—fourteen years after the Brown v. Board of Education decision. But integration was set to come in the fall of 1969—Huckabee’s freshman year of high school.

  CHAPTER 7

  BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER

  Fall 1969–Spring 1971

  If there was tension or a fight that broke out, my friend Donald Ogden and I would run to the middle of it. I would go talk to the white guys. He’d go talk to the black guys. We’d tell them to stop the nonsense. Pretty soon, classmates and parents stepped up and said, “We’ve got to make this work.” And we did.

  —MIKE HUCKABEE

  DORSEY AND MAE BECAME CONCERNED WHEN THEY HEARD about plans for a railroad bridge to be built a few blocks from their home. They had no complaint with God when it came to being poor, but if the Highway Commission thought their inane construction plans would pass without a murmur, they underestimated the Huckabees—and a hundred of their neighbors. The plan called for a bridge to be built over the railroad line that sat just north of the Huckabees’ house. But the lead-up to the bridge would effectively “create a Berlin wall right here in Hope.” So stated a full-page protest-advertisement in the Hope Star, paid for by the rankled citizens whose property values would take a hit because of the bridge. In large font, the ad asked, “East Second Street Blockade?”—and carefully laid out their reasons for opposing the plan.1 With the ad’s language of “blockade” and “Berlin Wall,” the coalition of citizens understood the power of metaphor (with a touch of hyperbole). Winston Churchill and his “iron curtain” would have been proud. In the end, the Highway Commission changed the plans, shifted the routes, and killed the bridge idea.

  At the same time, a pair of songwriters from Queens entered a recording studio and created what became their signature song—“Bridge over Troubled Water.” Simon and Garfunkel, arguably the most popular folk rock group from the sixties, released the song in January 1970. It hit the top of the charts and remained there for six weeks. There is an irony in the song’s mood of serenity and peace, given that the duo would split and go separate ways after the release of the album.2

  Cultural revolutions continued to create troubled waters, even as technological achievements brought a sense of awe and pride to the nation. The Huckabees joined in with 500 million others worldwide to watch Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin step onto the surface of the moon: “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.” On the baseball diamond, pitchers Nolan Ryan and Tom Seaver led the “Miracle Mets” to win the World Series, only one year after coming in ninth among ten National League teams.

  But other big events that summer, like Woodstock, also flashed across the screen. Images of young people rolling in mud and smoking marijuana were printed on the covers of national newsmagazines; people in the proverbial heartland didn’t understand, let alone approve. That feeling was mutual for many in the “Don’t trust anyone over thirty” generation. As the Vietnam War continued to send American soldiers home injured or in coffins, the tension over the war continued to increase. The younger generation was turning its back on the conflict, but even older Americans wrestled with the competing desires of patriotism and wisdom.

  On April 28, 1970, President Nixon announced the expansion of the war into neighboring Cambodia. Student protests escalated overnight. One week later, members of the Ohio National Guard fired on students who were protesting at Kent State University, killing four and wounding nine. Canadian rocker Neil Young gave an immediate response to Kent with his song “Ohio.” However, a high school teacher in Fort Smith, Arkansas, responded by writing Senator Fulbright, urging Congress to award Medal of Honor status to the Guardsmen who were “protecting their lives and tax property,” adding, “If the students had been in the classroom where they should have been they wouldn’t have been shot.”3 Obviously, the nation was divided on the war, and on the legitimacy of the student protests.

  Nixon did not set foot on a university campus for another month after the tragedy. And when he did so, he chose one of the most conservative public universities in America, and also the largest in the South at the time—the University of Tennessee in Knoxville. On May 28, Billy Graham introduced Nixon to the podium at his Knoxville-area evangelistic crusade. Seventy-five thousand people crammed into Neyland Stadium, and another twenty-five thousand listened outside. Hundreds of protesters also attended, inside and outside the stadium, making sure the world knew that not everyone approved of Nixon’s policies.

  Before belting out “His Eye is on the Sparrow,” world-famous gospel singer Ethel Waters responded directly from the stage to hecklers in the crowd: “Now you children over there listen to me. If I was over there close enough, I would smack you. But I love you, and I’d give you a big hug and kiss.”4

  Graham told reporters, “I love all those young people at the university—even the protesters. A few are being misled, using the wrong methods. Their methods lead to violence they pretend to disapprove. I am praying that some of them will find Christ.”5

  Nixon addressed the crowd: “Billy Graham, when he invited me to come here, said that this was to be Youth Night. He told me that there would be youth from the university, from other parts of the State, representing different points of view. I am just glad that there seems to be a rather solid majority on one side rather than the other side tonight.”6

  The Hope Star printed a front-page headline: “Nixon Booed at Graham Crusade Talk.”7 Arkansans were consummate Democrats, so Nixon being booed wasn’t really a cause for concern. The fact that it happened at Graham’s crusade, however, gave them a reason to pause. Of course, in an adjacent article, the U.S. senator from Arkansas reported that 95 percent of constituent letters he was receiving supported Nixon’s Cambodian vision.8

  Just over two years later, Nixon resigned the office of the president in Watergate disgrace. Nixon’s true character became known to the public through the release of White House transcriptions of Nixon in foul-mouthed conversation with others. Graham said he found the White House transcripts “profoundly disturbing and disappointing.”9 Nixon had betrayed the confidence of the entire nation, and of his close friend.

  Years later, Jerry Falwell, pastor of Thomas Road Baptist Church and president of Liberty University in Lynchburg, Virginia—and a founder of the Moral Majority—offered his analysis of Nixon’s attendance at the Graham crusade. “I saw him on television at the Knoxville, Tennessee, campaign. This was prior to the Moral Majority and political
involvement, which is no big deal today. But it was a big deal then, and when I saw him there . . . it was obvious to me—he’s not attending Billy’s crusade to hear Billy preach. He’s there because Billy invited him there. And anybody with any amount of moxie was aware that this was a tacit endorsement. I think if Billy was sitting here, he’d be the first to tell you, that was a major mistake in his ministry and life.”10 To this day, evangelicals continue to wrestle over the relationship between public church officials and politicians. Huckabee is one of the few who have served in both capacities on a national stage.

  Huckabee, who had been a supporter of Nixon, found himself disappointed and perplexed at the president’s actions. “The Nixon administration was vilified because back then we had an idealistic image of a president,” Huckabee wrote. He continued:

  We wanted him to be the most honorable, most statesmanlike of all of us. He represented more than himself. He represented all that was good about our country. We wanted our political leaders to be statesmen, and we thought of them in those terms.

  But in the post-Watergate era, cynicism mushroomed. People started not only accepting the worst, but expecting the worst from their elected officials.11

  The context of that quote, taken from his book Character Makes a Difference, is Huckabee’s explanation for why American voters elected Bill Clinton into office in 1992, despite all the allegations swirling around him at the time. Huckabee said that voters couldn’t relate to the patrician George H. W. Bush. They wanted to elect someone who looked like themselves, and “they were more like that young, flawed, sincere man, Bill Clinton”12—Huckabee’s point being that Watergate set the nation up for Bill Clinton’s presidency.

  Back in Hope, Arkansas, even the nonpolitical concerns of life seemed to be undergoing change and transition. The annual watermelon festival, long a staple of Hope culture and economy, wasn’t working anymore. Hope was in danger of losing her place of distinction as a major destination point for watermelon tourism. So Hope businessman C. E. “Pod” Rogers began to travel the country and reclaim the brand. He went on Let’s Make a Deal with Monty Hall and told the world about Hope’s melons. Then, he talked up watermelons on The Glen Campbell Goodtime Hour alongside Tommy Smothers.13

  That was the year CBS canceled The Smothers Brothers Show, citing complaints about the comedy routines involving criticism of the president, the Vietnam War, and prevailing racism in the country. The brothers used satire to make their point, but protestors and riots in the streets employed more physical means to get their message across. “There was a real definite choice . . . would we be a country of law and order or law of mayhem?” Huckabee said forty years later. “I believed in law and order, not mayhem. I believed that some things were right and some things were wrong, and when we went with the right, we had strength. And when we saw that there was no moral center and there was nothing that really ever could be defined a moral absolute, then we were lost and confused.”14

  How did young Huckabee decide on “law and order”—even as he refused to simply toe a political party line? How was he able to win teacher-nominated awards for being an outstanding student, while also getting sent to the principal’s office for involvement in a mild student antiwar protest at Hope High School? How did he wind up being a conservative and a Republican from a county where, he jokes, there were “only seven Republicans”?15 He needed a sage, a guide to help him through these “troubled waters.” Huckabee found his mentor at the end of his forefinger—his broken forefinger, that is.

  That story actually begins back in 1967 during a Little League game. Coached by future Arkansas Supreme Court justice Jim Gunter, Huckabee played catcher, though reports vary as to the depth of his abilities. Huckabee says he enjoyed the competition but wasn’t endowed with talent. To hear his older sister’s report, however, he was on the verge of moving from junior high directly into the major leagues (that’s what older sisters are for). The world may never know the real story, however, because about halfway through the season, Huckabee left his ungloved hand exposed to a foul tip. The ball broke his right index finger, ending his season and his baseball career, given the trajectory of his life which was to follow.

  What does a Little Leaguer with a broken finger do next? Enter Haskell Jones, operator of the local radio station, KXAR. Either within a few seconds or a few months of breaking his finger (depending on who is telling the story), Jones invited Huckabee up to the broadcast booth to help out with the radio coverage of the Little League games. That’s right: the radio station provided some live play-by-play of Little League games.

  Then just twelve, Huckabee entertained listeners with his confident and lively banter, and Jones took notice. Soon, he offered Huckabee the opportunity to host a youth show during the Saturday afternoon time slot—once he was old enough to obtain his FCC license. He did just that when he turned fourteen, and thus launched a broadcast career now approaching fifty years in duration. “I look back and I think, what an incredible thing,” Huckabee said. “Here’s a guy that looked at a 14-year-old kid and saw something in him and said, ‘I want you to work for me.’ ”16

  KXAR played a little bit of everything, and Huckabee’s duties similarly ran the gamut. In addition to his youth show, he did the news; at fourteen, he was named the sports director, with the responsibility for calling the high school football, basketball, and baseball games.17

  Huckabee was still too young for a driver’s license, and Harris recalls her parents driving him to the radio station every Saturday and Sunday morning. On Sundays, he’d arrive and open the station, and then get picked up for church before returning again during the afternoon. “He started getting a paycheck at twelve or thirteen years old, before he even had a car,” Harris said.18

  Haskell Jones arrived in Hope later in life—a transplant—and according to Huckabee, that fact explains everything about Mr. Jones:

  It was sort of just inbred in us that we were all Democrats. Now, it wasn’t because folks there were so much liberal, but there was just this sort of gravitation toward it. In fact, there were only seven Republicans that I knew of in my entire home county. Every one of them had moved in from either Kentucky, Indiana or Illinois. None of them were native to Hempstead County. There used to be a saying that “There are no Republicans here except the ones that either moved in or had been messed with.” Jones was one of those seven Republicans who had moved in from somewhere, and I was one of those guys that got messed with.19

  Jones is clearly the chief cause for Huckabee’s entrance into conservatism and the Republican Party—a decade ahead of even the Reagan Revolution that brought in Southern Democrats. Huckabee contrasted Jones with his own parents’ traditional leanings toward the Democratic Party. “[Jones] loved this country. He was a great patriot. He understood the blessings of America,” Huckabee said. “And even though I had not grown up in a Republican household, I understood something about the blessings of America. I was raised to love this country. I was not allowed to be unkind toward it.”20

  Jones said that when he first moved to town, some people predicted that his Republican leanings would hurt his business. But Jones said, “If it has hurt my business, I certainly can’t tell it. When people realized I was a Republican and that I was going to stand by what I said, they accepted me.”21 And accepted him the town did, honoring him with “Haskell Jones Day” in 1975, just before he moved on to another town and radio station.

  Jones’s mentorship of Huckabee also included steering him intellectually by giving him a copy of Phyllis Schlafly’s 1964 bestseller, A Choice Not an Echo. “That book had a tremendous impact on me as a teenager,” Huckabee said. “It reminded me that in all of our lives, we should not simply be echoing the sentiments of others, but making deep personal choices about what we believe and, most importantly, why we believe it.”22 Huckabee’s own record of governa
nce shows that he refused to walk anyone’s party line, a direct influence of Jones and Schlafly.

  Huckabee completely lights up when he speaks about his first boss. “Jones began to help me crystallize what I understood was part of a greater movement.” He describes Jones as a “remarkable human being” and a “communitarian.” “He instilled into me that when you live in a community and you’re blessed, that you owe something back, so you must be involved in civic endeavors,” Huckabee said.23 Indeed, Jones was known for saying, “I regard politics as part of my civic duty.”24

  A quick perusal of newspaper archives from those years reveals the accuracy of Huckabee’s statement about Jones’s community involvement. Republican governor Winthrop Rockefeller appointed Jones to the Arkansas Publicity and Parks Commission in January 1969.25 That same month, the Citizens for Good Government group formed to “promote Governor Rockefeller’s tax package” and named Jones the chairman for Hempstead County.26 He also served as the “Blood Program Chairman” for the Hempstead County Red Cross bloodmobile drive.27 Huckabee took note of all this and patterned his own civic involvement in like manner. The job training wasn’t just learning how to work the radio equipment; it was learning to give back and serve others. It was an education that laid the foundation for his future.

  By the fall of 1969, KXAR included Huckabee’s name on their quarter-page newspaper ads for broadcasts of Hope High School football: “Follow the Bobcats by Attending the Games. If You Can’t Go, Ralph Routon and Mike Huckabee Will Describe Them For You.”28 Routon, now the editor of an award-winning newspaper in Colorado, was a senior that year and remembers well that football season, first because he was “helped by a skinny ninth-grader named Mike Huckabee.” But even more memorable was how this was the first year that Hope fielded an integrated football team. “Yerger High School, after nearly a century of educating generations of blacks in the community, turned into a junior high for everyone,” Routon recalls. “And nearly 400 teenagers came from one end of Walker Street to the other in the late summer of 1969, creating an enrollment of about 800 at Hope High.”29