The Purpose and Powers of the Senate, Part LXVII: “A Proper Interest in His State”

Having adjourned until noon the following day – March 15^th, 1962 – the United States Senate thereafter resumed consideration of the Alexander Hamilton national monument bill which Senator Spessard Holland was preparing to use as a vehicle for his anti-poll tax amendment. New York Republican Jacob Javits then proceeded to introduce said bill, his fellow New Yorker, Kenneth Keating, then spoke to the need for such legislation – Hamilton’s house, it seemed, was then going to “rack and ruin” – and the Majority Leader, Mike Mansfield, then moved that debate should thereafter proceed. Whereupon, rather predictably, a brace of Southerners made themselves known. And while Richard Russell was not among them, the sentiments which he had expressed during the previous day’s debate were nevertheless very much in evidence. The first to speak, as it happened, was Alabama’s J. Lister Hill (1894-1984), a New Deal, populist Democrat who was known to occasionally break with his more conservative colleagues in support of legislation that gave greater power to the federal government. In this instance, however, Hill appeared to be in a conservative mood.

First, Hill echoed Senator Russell’s remarks of the previous day. The notion of substituting a constitutional amendment for a piece of normal legislation, he said, was “a most unusual and extraordinary and, I think, unprecedented and preposterous course [.]” The Southern reputation for strict propriety was well-earned, it would seem. Then – echoing Russell once again – he began lamenting the loss of state power that the proposed amendment seemed to portend. “This is an attempt to amend the Constitution,” he said,

To take away from the States the rights which they have enjoyed from the very day the Constitution was written and became effective. It is an attempt to take away their rights to fix the qualifications of their electors. We oppose it because we are deeply moved by our concern and desire and our willingness to fight for the preservation of the cherished rights of our States to prescribe the qualifications of their electors. I may say that these are rights which the Founding Fathers specifically preserved and secured to our States in the original Constitution.

Such invocations of the Founders have been a cornerstone of congressional debate since almost the moment of the Founding itself, of course. No matter the position being taken by the lawmaker in question, a precedent in its favor always seems to present itself from among the writings and orations of that selfsame illustrious cohort. To that end, Senator Hill noted accordingly that when the Constitution was first drafted in 1787, a guarantee of state autonomy in terms of setting the parameters of the franchise had been absolutely essential to securing the final agreement of all involved. Bearing this in mind, he concluded, “there would have been no Constitution if that right had not been clearly, specifically, and absolutely preserved to the several States.”

The Senator from Alabama was not wrong, of course, when he affirmed that state control over the franchise had been very important to the Framers. It would be hard to name a group of American political thinkers who, in their time, were more conscious of the need to balance state and national power or who were more sensitive of the specific responsibilities best allocated to each sphere. But there was a great difference between the circumstances under which the Constitution was drafted and those which, in the early 1960s, confronted the United States Senate. So many of the Framer’s expectations and assumptions had been proven faulty or misguided in the nearly two centuries that had elapsed since they collectively hashed out the text of the American republic’s governing charter. Indeed, the relationship between the federal government, the various states, and the American people had changed to such a tremendous extent over the course of the 19^th and 20^th centuries from what the Founding Generation had envisioned that one might be given to wonder whether the Framers would even recognize the nation whose fundamental charter they had penned. To say, then, that a particular practice was worthwhile simply because the Framers had endorsed it did not – and does not – make for much of an argument in its favor. The Constitution had, at the time of Hill’s remarks, been amended fully twenty-three times. Clearly, there were many things about that original document which successive generations of Americans determined were insufficient to their changing needs.

            Hill’s argument against an anti-poll tax amendment did not begin and end with a simple invocation of tradition for tradition’s sake, of course. Like Russell the day before, the senator from Alabama was prepared to pull out all the stops. To that end, he also made a point of noting that the actual costs of the poll tax in his state were, in his words, “extremely moderate. They range from $1 to $1.50. The influence of the tax on the size of the electorate is [therefore] too insignificant for anyone even to attempt to measure.” As if this were not evidence enough, Hill then went on to further affirm that some prerequisites must inevitably accompany voting no matter how liberal the electoral system. “To register,” he began,

A person must go to a particular place where the registration is held. Persons do not register in their own homes; they must go to the courthouse or to some other place designated for that purpose. Furthermore, in order to vote, a citizen must go to the polling place. He must transport himself to that place. When he gets there, sometimes he must stand in line before he may vote. It may take some time out of a very busy day for him to stand and wait his turn to exercise his right to the ballot and to vote. So […] there are certain prerequisites to voting, and this little tax is one of them.

Hill’s assertion that “a little tax” was just one of many potential obligations every American was bound to fulfil in attempting to cast their ballot vastly oversimplified the issue at hand, of course. There were indeed a great many things which a person might be required to do in order to exercise their right to vote, from registering, to applying for an absentee ballot, to standing in line, to putting off personal obligations. But inasmuch as it is the theoretical aim of every democratic society to encourage voter turnout – so that the officials accordingly elected represent the will of their constituents as accurately as possible – most democratic governments tend to put in place such procedures and policies as to render the process of voting as easy and as painless as is possible.

The United States, in this regard, is– and was – no different. Absentee ballots cost nothing to apply for and come with prepaid return envelopes. Polling stations are generally allocated so as to keep wait times to a minimum. Registration is often a one-time necessity and requires relatively little paperwork. These measures are certainly not foolproof or infallible – people have still waited in long lines, still encountered problems with their absentee ballots – but they have done a great deal, collectively, to eliminate the most common barriers to voting. But whereas the inconveniences Hill noted represent either the unavoidable failure of otherwise sound policy or else the inevitable consequence of attempting to solve complicated logistical problems, the poll tax that he was defending served no purpose other than to act as a barrier to voting. Granted, the revenue generated was often put to use funding public schools. Indeed, Hill made a point of noting exactly that. But a tax on whiskey, say, or cigarettes could have served the same purpose without compromising the ability of the economically disadvantaged to cast a ballot. Far from being a necessary prerequisite to voting, therefore – that is, something unpleasant but functionally unavoidable – the poll tax represented a deliberate attempt to make voting more difficult for those most in need.

None of this, of course, made any never mind to the likes of Senator Hill. Like Senator Russell had been before him, he was less interested in the facts on the ground in states where poll taxes remained on the books than in defending the right of any given state to levy such taxes as it pleased. Nor, for that matter, did it at all rankle the sensitivities of Senator James O. Eastland (1904-1986), the Mississippi Democrat who next asked to take the floor. Quite the opposite, in fact. Far from seeking to counter Hill’s assertions, Eastland sought instead to continue his colleague’s exploration of the supposed harmlessness of the poll tax. “Does the Senator know whether the poll tax in Alabama disqualifies anybody from voting?” he asked. “I do not think the poll tax in Alabama disqualifies anybody from voting [,]” Hill responded. “I do not know of anyone in Alabama who does not have a dollar and a half that he cannot contribute to the education of the youth in Alabama in order to vote.” Eastland pressed on. “Does not the Senator think that that is true in all the States which have the poll tax?” he said. “I think that is true in all those States [,]” answered Hill. “I think the Senator would say the same thing about his own State of Mississippi.” The Alabaman then went on to add – as if his point had not sufficiently been made – that “The poll tax does not prevent anyone from voting. Can it be that a citizen of a State does not have enough interest in the welfare and progress of his State to make the little contribution of a dollar or a dollar and a half to the education of the youth of his State, so that the citizen may vote?”

It was, on balance, a substantially pointless exchange. Both men represented states where poll taxes were still being collected. And so neither man had any reason to call into question the validity of the same. On the contrary, they had every reason to make those who did not pay the poll tax appear miserly, foolish, or otherwise “un-American.” “Can it be that a citizen of a State does not have enough interest in the welfare and progress of his State to make the little contribution of a dollar or a dollar and a half to the education of the youth of his State [?]” Hill asked. Another senator, thus engaged with Hill in this same line of questioning, might have responded by telling him that some Americans who wanted to vote simply couldn’t spare a dollar to do so. They might even have asked him, as a corollary, whether requiring people to pay a sum of money in order to vote regardless of their economic circumstances effectively amounted to voter suppression. But Eastland didn’t request the floor so that he could actually engage in a debate with his colleague from Alabama. On the contrary, as someone who had a vested interest in keeping the government of his own state from looking needlessly cruel, he was simply seeking to offer his support to someone who shared this same position.

After next going on to compare the poll tax to the dues required to be paid by the member-nations of the UN – non-payment of which the Kennedy Administration had lately stated should disqualify member nations from voting, leading Eastland to conclude that the US Government “endorsed the principle of the poll tax” – the pair were thankfully interrupted by the previously-silent Senator Holland. The chief architect of the anti-poll tax amendment had evidently had enough, and at this moment chose to initiate his own line of questioning. First, Holland asked Hill if it was required, in Alabama, for a citizen of voting age to pay the poll tax in order to cast a ballot. Hill said that it was, though he emphasized that the minimum cost was one dollar and fifty cents and that the accumulated cost – for consecutive years of non-payment – could amount to no more than three dollars. When Holland then seized upon this figure of three dollars – “is it not true that a citizen between the ages of 22 and 45 must pay $3 or 2 years' poll tax in order to be qualified to vote?” – Hill again attempted to minimize the significance of any such payment. “If a person lets a year or more go by,” he said, “or, as I said, if he lets as many as 15 years go by, or if he lets as many as 20 years go by, he never has to pay more than $3.” Undeterred, Holland sought to clarify: “But he does have to pay $3?” Hill’s answer was characteristically dismissive. “If he has not kept up his poll tax,” he said, “the little tax of $1.50—every cent of which, as I have said, is devoted to the public schools of Alabama—if he has not kept that tax current and paid each year, the most he would have to pay would be $3.”

Senator Eastland then stepped in again by way of a diversion. “Does not the Senator think that the $3 that a person must pay is quite puny and does not discommode anyone?” he said. Hill’s response might as well have been rehearsed. “I thoroughly agree with the Senator from Mississippi [,]” he said. “Certainly it does not discommode anybody. After all, what citizen is there, who has a proper interest in his State […] who is not perfectly willing to pay this small amount of $1.50?” The phrasing that Hill employed here is particularly worth noting. He did not ask whether they were any citizens who were not perfectly able to pay the poll tax. Rather, he asked whether they were any citizens not perfectly willing. Evidently, the senator from Alabama was particularly keen on insinuating that non-payment of the poll tax was a choice, that no one was in a position where they literally could not afford to pay it, and that those who chose not to do so lacked “a proper interest” in the general welfare of their state. When one also takes into account the racial component of the discussion at hand, the impression that Senator Hill was trying to cultivate becomes clearer still. What was the Alabaman saying about those who failed to pay the poll tax? That they were uninterested either in voting or in contributing to the general welfare. And who, by design, were generally unable to pay the tax? The economically disadvantaged members of the nation’s Black community. So what, then, was Hill trying to say without simply coming out with the words? That the nation’s Black community didn’t care about voting, that they didn’t care about supporting schools, and that it could accordingly be said that they lacked “a proper interest” in public affairs. This was, of course, a very old canard – that Black people are lazy, or unmotivated, or generally quiescent – but one which many a Southerner would still have cleaved to in the early 1960s. And it was for this reason, no doubt, that Senator Hill sought to deploy it. Lacking in proof or not, it conformed to what many of his colleagues already believed in their hearts.       

Holland, for his part, remained unmoved by this relatively subtle bit of race-baiting. And so, as was his wont, he attempted to steer things back on track. “A man and his wife would have to pay $6 in order for both of them to be qualified to vote in a primary election or in a general election in Alabama […] would they not?” he asked Hill. The Alabama Democrat seemed to bristle. “No [,]” he said. “The only time when they would have to pay $6 would be when they were in default. If they were current in the payment of that tax, they would have to pay only $1.50 a piece.” Eastland – as though he and Senator Hill were members of a Vaudeville-era comedy team – then jumped in yet again. “The answer to the question of the Senator from Florida is that in the vast majority of cases he is wrong, is he not?” he said. “Yes [,]” said Hill. “In 99 percent of the cases he is wrong, is he not?” said Eastland. “Yes [,]” repeated Hill. “He is undertaking to cite the most extreme case. He must be thinking about the people of his own State, not the people of Alabama.” Neither man, to be sure, offered any evidence to back their claim. In ninety-nine percent of cases, they said, people paid the poll tax and were thus free to cast a ballot when the time came. From where did they source this figure? Was the underlying data up to date? Neither of them seemed inclined to say, if indeed it was possible for them to do so. Practically speaking, then, the claim that they were making was entirely lacking any basis in fact.

            Senator Holland, as ever, remained unphased. “So far as the people of Florida are concerned,” he replied to Hill’s parting jibe, “they have not had to pay a poll tax since 1937—which I think is a sound thing.”  Again, the fact that the elimination of the poll tax was tied to his own history as a public servant was never all that far from the conversation at hand. He then continued: “Does not the Senator from Alabama know that the amendment which I and 66 other Senators propose does not prohibit the imposition of a poll tax as a prerequisite to voting in State and local elections, but relates only to the election of President, Vice President, and Members of Congress?” Hill’s response, unsurprisingly, was to shift his angle of attack yet again. He had implied that eliminating the poll tax went against the intentions of the Framers. He had argued that the poll tax was but one of many requirements Americans were required to fulfil in order to vote. And he had declared, unequivocally, that the individual cost of the poll tax was so low as to be inconsiderable to any individual who actually desired to vote. Now, faced with Holland’s avowal that an anti-poll tax amendment would only apply to federal elections, Senator Hill of Alabama decried the chaos which was bound to result. “Can the Senator from Florida think of anything which would be more confusing [,]” he said

Or would require more bookkeeping, redtape, and all that sort of thing, than to require the payment of a poll tax […] if one wishes to vote in elections for State and local officers, but then say, “But so far as national elections are concerned, the payment of a poll tax will not be required.” I cannot think of anything that would be more divisive or confusing or would come nearer to undermining the system of obtaining, by means of the payment of this small amount of money, funds to be used for the education of our youth.

Before Holland had a chance to respond, Eastland again jumped in. “Why should not a man pay a poll tax in order to be able to vote in an election for Members of Congress?” he said. “I know of no reason why he should not [,]” said Hill. “What is the difference between paying a poll tax in order to be able to vote in an election for Members of Congress and paying a poll tax in order to be able to vote in an election for the Governor of the State?” asked Eastland. “There is no difference [,]” said Hill, “and certainly there is no reason why a poll tax should not be paid in order to qualify to vote in all elections.” It was a strange argument the two were making, if it could indeed be called an argument. “There is no reason why a poll tax should not be paid in order to qualify to vote in all elections [,]” said Hill, as if that was the beginning and the end of the matter. Neither man argued why this should be the case – why any citizen of the United States should have been made to pay a fee in order to exercise one of the fundamental rights to which they were entitled. Rather, they simply acted as though the underlying reasoning was self-evident. “Why should not a man pay a poll tax in order to be able to vote in an election for Members of Congress?” said Eastland. “I know of no reason why he should not [,]” said Hill. The brazen disregard for basic democratic norms which these two United States Senators thus gleefully displayed would almost be impressive were it not so deeply disquieting.   

Holland – doubtless growing tired of this senseless back-and-forth – responded to this fairly nauseating display by offering what he doubtless hoped would be a substantial blow to Hill’s earlier argument. Was it not true, he said, irrespective of what the senator from Alabama had just declared,

That on the present registration rolls in the State of Alabama, places have to be left for exemptions for those who are veterans and for exemptions for those who are over a certain age, and for exemptions for other reasons; and is it not true that it has not proven to be difficult at all to have little stamped showings of exemptions appear on the same registration roll?

It was, by and large, a perfectly cogent point on Holland’s part. Hill’s complaint had been that creating a system in which people were required to pay the poll tax in some circumstances but not in others would simply be too confusing to even contemplate. But it was already true that certain people in Alabama weren’t required to pay the poll tax because they qualified for an exception. People over the age of forty-five weren’t required to pay; nor were veterans; nor were certain others. As every year went by and more people turned forty-five, and more people were discharged from the military, and more people were able to qualify for whatever other exceptions were on offer, didn’t this create a great deal of complexity on its own? And hadn’t the government of the State of Alabama managed to sort things out just fine? So what, then, was so complicated about creating another species of exception? What was so hard about creating “little stamped showings of exemptions [to] appear on the same registration roll?”

Naturally – given that they were most assuredly less interested in engaging in an exchange of ideas than simply saying the things they felt obligated to say – neither Hill nor Eastland were given pause by this inquiry, or else felt at all compelled to provide Holland with an answer. On the contrary, their response was to further hammer on their core talking point. “Does not the Senator from Alabama think the distinguished Senator from Florida has just now destroyed his own argument?” Eastland began. “In Alabama, one who is 45 years of age is exempt, is he not?” Hill answered with a simple, “That is correct.” “And veterans are also exempt, are they not?” Eastland continued. “That is correct [,]” Hill repeated. “When the Senator from Florida refers to a requirement to pay $3,” said Eastland, “he is picking out a few, little, puny cases here and there, is he not? “Yes [,]” Hill responded. “The requirement to pay $3 itself does not disenfranchise anyone, does it?” Eastland asked. “That is correct [,]” Hill concluded, “there are only a few, little, puny cases.” Again, one is struck by the apparent similarity between this pair of Southern senators and an early 20^th century comedy duo. They had not at all demonstrated how it was that Senator Holland has supposedly “destroyed his own argument,” but their patter was nothing if not snappy and to-the-point.  

Hill and Eastland’s primary strategy, such as it was, was decidedly one of minimization. They did not seek to dispute the fact that the existence of the poll tax prevented some people from being able to cast a ballot. On the contrary, they were of the opinion that this was only right and proper. When the cause being funded was the education of the next generation of American citizens, what kind of person could possibly object to being parted from a dollar or two? Well, whoever they were – miserly, selfish, quite lacking in civic spirit – they were very few in number. “A few, little, puny cases [,]” the pair agreed. Insignificant. Not worth considering. In light of the fact that these two men represented Southern states in which the segregationist Jim Crow regime remained largely intact, their characterization of the number of people in Alabama disenfranchised by the poll tax as “few,” “little,” and “puny” would seem once more to warrant a certain amount of scrutiny. Being both of them products of a society – that is, the white, middle-class South of the early 20^th century – wherein “separate but equal” was the unquestioned rule, Black people were functionally regarded as something less than full citizens, and lynchings occurred with startling regularity, it would not be at all difficult to imagine Hill and Eastland alike considering the disenfranchisement of several million Black Americans as being inconsiderable in the grand scheme.

The disenfranchisement of the region’s Black community, after all, had been one of the central goals of Southern lawmakers, executive officials, and judges since the ratification of the 15^th Amendment in the winter of 1870. And the entire purpose of the poll tax was to help achieve this exact objective. So why, then, should Hill and Eastland have been anything other than dismissive? Indeed, it would be fair to say that there was no reason to expect otherwise. From their perspective – along with that of many of their fellow Southerners in Congress – the disenfranchisement of the South’s Black inhabitants really was a trifling thing. The entire purpose of the law, to them, was the continual entrenchment of white control. And no matter how often or how convincingly anyone might argue to the contrary – or even suggest that certain customary practices ultimately did more harm than good – they were not prepared to change their minds. The Jim Crow regime had been plodding along for the better part of a century, and in that time had ground down generations of Black Americans to a state of legal helplessness and spiritual indignity under the sheer weight of its manifold mechanisms of oppression. The white, Democratic South, in that time, had managed not only to prevent the fundamental upending of the established racial power structure which the Reconstruction had seemed to presage, but they had further succeeded in solidifying their grip on local political power to the point that Sothern society became governed, in effect, by a kind of ethno-political oligarchy. In consequence, from the perspective of men like J. Lister Hill and James Eastland – beneficiaries of this culture, to be sure – there really was no reason to admit that anything was amiss. Institutionalized racial oppression had worked out just fine for the South, and any evidence to the contrary could be safely and entirely dismissed.