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Local woman’s fight for civil rights tells story of ‘ordinary heroes’

WASHINGTON — When filmmaker Loki Mulholland decided to make a documentaryÌýabout his mother’s role in the civil rights movement, he tricked her into theÌýproject.

Originally, he planned to tell the stories of four civil rights activists in theÌý‘60s — including Joan Trumpauer Mulholland. He soon realized, however,Ìýthat his mother’s experiences were far too rich to be limited to part of aÌýdocumentary. So he got right to work on his new idea.

“At that point, I never told her there [wasn’t anyone] else in the film … I didn’tÌýwantÌýher to back out of it. I [thought I’d] just ask for forgiveness later,” MulhollandÌýsays.

It wasn’t until the cameras started rolling that Mulholland heard the full storyÌýof his mother’s participation in the movement, including dangerous run-ins withÌýthe Ku Klux Klan, multiple arrests and a famous photograph that’s used to teachÌýschoolÌýchildren about one of the most controversial times in our nation’s history.

“My mother never told me the stories. All I ever knew were the pictures,”ÌýMulholland says.

A White Southern Woman Takes on Civil Rights

Loki Mulholland’s documentary, “,”Ìýchronicles his mother’s active involvement in the civil rights movement.

Joan Trumpauer Mulholland was born in 1941 and was raised in Arlington, Va.,ÌýduringÌýthe years of segregation. She says she was always aware of segregation, but didn’tÌýrealize the extent of its disparities until she was about 10 years old.

Trumpauer Mulholland was visiting relatives in rural Georgia when she dared herÌýfriend Mary to walk through the town’s black community — a highly audacious actÌýfor a young, white Southern girl.

“So we left our bikes and went for a stroll and it was just so blatant, theÌýdifference. I mean, the white section was poor enough — we’re talking dirt roadsÌýand water from the [well] — but it was just so much worse in the black community,Ìýand the school is what really hit me,” says Trumpauer Mulholland, who still livesÌýin Arlington.

“The black school was just an unpainted shack, for lack of a better word. AÌýone-room schoolhouse up on stone piles … outdoor plumbing and what looked like aÌýpotbelly stove for heat … It just really hit me, right then, just how unequalÌýthings were.”

Back in Northern Virginia, the conditions appeared to be better than ruralÌýGeorgia, but segregation was still obvious. A wall by an Arlington hospitalÌýseparated the neighborhoods and drivers often “locked the car doors” whenÌýtraveling through certain neighborhoods off Lee Highway, Trumpauer MulhollandÌýsays.

When it was time for college, Trumpauer Mulholland went to Duke University.ÌýContrary to her parents’Ìýwishes, she invested her time in more than just schoolwork; she beganÌýparticipating in the segregated school’s sit-ins.

“I think my thinking was propelled in this direction by being sort of aÌýliteralist. We memorized Bible verses about how to treat each other and we had toÌýmemorize the Declaration of Independence back then, and we didn’t practice what weÌýpreached,” she says.

At Duke, Trumpauer Mulholland was one of two white women involved in theÌýnonviolent protests — the other being her roommate. Other white women supportedÌýthe effort, but because they were from the South, they felt they couldn’t fullyÌýparticipate.

“They couldn’t endanger their family that way, but they could slip us some moneyÌýon the side,” Trumpauer Mulholland says.

In her first year of college, Trumpauer Mulholland was arrested twice. SheÌýremembers the first time clearly.

“[My roommate] and I got back after dark from jail and … there was a note that weÌýwere to report to the Dean of Women,” she says. “She opened the door for us to herÌýoffice and then she took out her keys and locked the door and sort of jiggled theÌýkeys and put them back in her pocket. I just remember that so vividly. And sheÌýtried to get us to agree that we wouldn’t do this anymore … Oh, and [she asked],Ìý‘Have you called your parents?'”

Trumpauer Mulholland’s mother, being from the Deep South, did not react well toÌýthe situation. Her father, a government bureaucrat, thought change should startÌýat the top, not with sit-ins.

But change did start to take place on the ground. One year after her protests, sheÌýsays, the all-whiteÌýmale DukeÌýfootball team joined the picket line.

Getting Involved in the Movement

After her first year at Duke, Trumpauer Mulholland retuned to the D.C. area andÌýbecame active in NAG (Non-Violent Action Group) and Howard University’s sympathyÌýpicket group.

“The fact that I had experience in sit-ins, was arrested twice and was fromÌýArlington, where they were planning to go the next day, that made me particularlyÌýwelcome,” she says.

Trumpauer Mulholland participated in sit-ins throughout the area, including one atÌýthe People’s Drug Store whites-only counter on Lee Highway and at the Woolworth’sÌýinÌýShirlington. Within a couple of weeks, the drug stores desegregated and protestersÌýtookÌýto their next cause. One was at Glen Echo Park, where Trumpauer Mulholland wouldÌýshow upÌýafter work to picket.

Being white, she bought a handful ofÌýtickets for the park’s carousel ride and handed them out to black protesters whoÌýwere not allowed to purchase tickets.

As Loki Mulholland states in his documentary, there is a back of a line, and aÌýback of a bus, but there
isÌýnot a back of a carousel.

“Folks, ticket in hand, got arrested on the merry-go-round,” Trumpauer MulhollandÌýsays.

Also present at those protests were American Nazi groups. At the time, TrumpauerÌýMulholland didn’t digest the lurking danger, although it most likely wouldn’t haveÌýstalled her actions.

“I just wasn’t worried about that one way or the other. I suspect at some level, IÌýknew it could be dangerous because most of my relatives were in the Deep South andÌýI’d heard them talk plenty. But no, I wasn’t worried about dying,” she says. “FearÌýparalyzes you and keeps you from doing what you need to do, from thinking what youÌýneed to think, to be as safe as you can do to deal with the situation.”

Because her involvement with the movement was not approved byÌýher parents, she moved out of their home and lived in an apartment on V Street NW,ÌýnearÌýHoward University. That summer, she also decided she didn’t want to go back toÌýDuke, which in 1961 began to integrate a few black students into its graduate andÌýprofessionalÌýschools.

“This is not integration: Students, just a few at a time going through this. RealÌýintegration has to be a two-way street,” she says.

So she applied to the historically black college Tougaloo, a “movement college,”ÌýinÌýJackson, Miss. The school’s charter was older than the segregation laws, soÌýTrumpauer Mulholland was allowed to attend. She was the first white student toÌýenroll at the college.

Getting down to Tougaloo, however, was a little more challenging than she couldÌýhave predicted.

Arrests and More Protests

Trumpauer Mulholland decided to catch a free ride down to Jackson. She flew fromÌýD.C. to New Orleans with CORE (Congress of Racial Equality) to help keep the going. But before she could offer much on-ground support, sheÌýwas arrested Ìýafter getting off Ìýa train in Jackson.

Or, as she says, “The state of Mississippi put me up for theÌýsummer.”

Even though she is able to talk about the experience with a chuckle now, herÌýsummer was anything butÌýlighthearted. After some time at the Hinds County Jail, Trumpauer Mulholland wasÌýtransported to theÌýMississippi State Penitentiary Parchman.

“We wanted to believe we were coming out of this alive and in one piece, but itÌýwas one of the legendsÌýof brutality,” she says about Parchman in “An Ordinary Hero.”

She essentially slept on death row with other civil rights activists, where sheÌýshared a tiny, bare cell with a few other women.

“I think once or twice a week we got showers,” she says.

Instead of posting bail, Trumpauer Mulholland worked her time off at Parchman.

“The idea was to make it as expensive and as inconvenient for the federalÌýgovernment,” she says.

Her days were organized into a routine of quiet time, singing, exercise, a lessonÌýof some sortÌýand meeting to pray once a week with a rabbi. After roughly two months, she wasÌýreleasedÌýshortly before the start of school.

A Day That Goes Down in History

As expected, Trumpauer Mulholland remained active in the community and in civilÌýrights during her first few years at Tougaloo. And a sit-in in 1963 turned herÌýintoÌýa more prominent figure in the movement.

Michael J. O’Brien, author of ÌýÌýexplains thatÌýJackson’s CapitolÌýStreet was an area home to segregated businesses and shops; it was also home toÌýboycotts.

“It was demeaning for blacks to go to Capitol Street, but they wanted to haveÌýaccess to the wonderful things that were there,” says O’Brien, whose book detailsÌýthe historical Woolworth’s sit-in in Jackson.

On May 28, Trumpauer Mulholland was “spotting” some protestors on the picket lineÌýon Capitol Street. However, the protestors were quickly arrested, and the protestÌýfizzled out. So she went down to the Woolworth’s where a sit-inÌýwas taking place.

The sit-in started around 11 a.m. and was relatively quiet in the first hour,ÌýO’Brien says. But around noon, things started to pick up when the lunch crowd cameÌýin and when the local high school was released early after exams.

Two black women and one black man sat at the counter; all three were violentlyÌýpulled offÌýtheir stools. When Trumpauer Mulholland spotted a knife in theÌýcrowd, she yelled to her friend, “Annie, he’s got a knife!”

“That sort of really identified me, so it was safer [for me] to sit at theÌýcounter, which was sort of the idea anyway, because you don’t want to get stuck inÌýthe crowd and pulled out of the store to who knows where,” Trumpauer MulhollandÌýsays.

She eventually took a seat at the counter and was soon dragged out. The man whoÌýgrabbed her was arrested and Trumpauer Mulholland made her way back into the storeÌýand sat back down at the counter.

“When Joan sat down, she was the first white person to join the demonstration andÌýfor whites who had always been taught that was totally off limits, when they sawÌýthat, it sparked something in them that they just couldn’t live with,” O’BrienÌýsays.

Civil rights activist John Salter, who was not black, came into Woolworth’s andÌýtook a seat at theÌýcounter as well. He was hit with brass knuckles; condiments were poured on hisÌýhead and cigarette butts were put out on his neck.

All the time, the manager of the Woolworth’s refused to close the store, andÌýpolice remained on the outside the store for the three-hour event, due to aÌýSupreme Court decisionÌýa few weeks before which ruled police had to be invited to stop a protest by theÌýstore manager.

The media were also present at the sit-in to capture the rowdy crowd. One of theÌýphotos taken on that day by Fred Blackwell is one of the most recognized photosÌýfromÌýthe civil rights movement era.

“When I first met Joan and her kids, the kids would always say, ‘My mom’s in aÌýfamous picture,'” says O’Brien, who met Trumpauer Mulholland several years ago inÌýArlington.

“This photograph has now become an iconic photograph … It shows how angry andÌýdifficult and complicated a mob can become when this is allowed to happen.”

Trumpauer Mulholland says the photo shows a lot of emotion without a whole lot ofÌýviolence, making it easier for school children to absorb and digest — oneÌýexplanation for why it’s inÌýschool history books.

For son Loki Mulholland, the photo was just how he identified his mother growingÌýup.

“By the time I graduated from high school, I knew my mother had been involved inÌýthe movement, and we were familiar enough with that, but not necessarily theÌýdetails with the story. That’s just what mom did … The sit-in photo became herÌýprom photo for us … It’s just mom,” he says.

Shortly after the Jackson Woolworth’s sit-in and the riots in Birmingham, Ala.,ÌýPresident Kennedy called for the 1964 Civil Rights Act, which was eventuallyÌýsigned into law byÌýPresident Lyndon Johnson on July 2, 1964.

The Never-Ending Fight for Human Rights

For Trumpauer Mulholland, the battle for civil rights hasn’t stopped.

“It’s not over … We’re still working on it,” she says.

And while she’s not manning the barricades and standing on the picket line,Ìýshe still remains active in igniting change through education.

“Now, speaking to groups and trying to pass it forward … I think that’s my roleÌýnow,” she says. “Our ideas of issues has broadened and what we have done had beenÌýadopted by people all over this country and all over the world … Now it’s becomeÌýdownright fashionable to call out an issue.”

O’Brien says, “I think it needs to be said that clearly, thanks to what Joan andÌýothers did backÌýin the ‘60s, things have changed dramatically for our society. Obviously, they’reÌýnot perfect. But when you go back to Mississippi today, there are blacks in everyÌýlevel of government and business, in ways that just couldn’t be imagined backÌýthen.”

And while a 10-year-old’s daring walk through a black community opened her eyes toÌýracial inequality, Trumpauer Mulholland says her motivation to igniteÌýchange stemmed from the fact that she’s a Southerner.

“I was a Southerner; no two ways about it. I think that’s what brought me toÌýit — that the South should be the best that it could be and maybe people wouldÌýquitÌýlooking down on us,” she says.

Her son highlights her philosophy with a quote in the film.

“You have to pick your battles. Mine was the Southern way of life.”

Watch the trailer for “An Ordinary Hero” below:

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