From: mars1933@hotmail.com   
      
       The idea was to ignore race and educate the country about states'   
   rights. The commission kept its distance from the White Citizens'   
   Councils, and would not even let the publishers of Carleton   
   Putnam's Race and Reason-which was wildly popular in the South-use   
   its mailing list. Kilpatrick wanted the commission "to stay absolutely   
   free of the race issue."   
      
       He found some support for his own writing outside the South, how-   
   ever, especially at William Buckley's National Review, which supported   
   segregation, and at U.S. News and World Report, founded in 1948 by Da-   
   vid Lawrence to oppose the New Deal. By 1957, he was becoming a na-   
   tional spokesman for both conservatism and segregation.   
      
      
       Kilpatrick continued to believe that if the South could only hang   
   on, the North would come around, both on states' rights and on race.   
   He urged Virginia's governor, Lindsay Almond, to defy federal orders   
   and let himself be arrested rather than integrate schools, but Almond   
   was not made of such stern stuff. All across the South, politicians   
   and school bureaucrats were submitting to the federal government, and   
   Virginia followed suit.   
      
      By this time, Kilpatrick could see the Civil Rights Act of 1964   
   coming, and helped found a lobby to try to stop it. Once again,   
   however, the Coordinating Committee for Fundamental American Freedoms   
   soft-peddled race and tried to couch the argument in libertarian   
   terms. As he wrote for National Review, if the "citizen's right to   
   discriminate" is destroyed, "the whole basis of individual liberty is   
   destroyed." He made the case with his usual verve in the very   
   effective pamphlet, Civil Rights and Legal Wrongs.   
      
      Kilpatrick also predicted "affirmative action" before just about   
   anyone else, warning that any ban on legal discrimination would mean   
   preferences for Blacks. The only way an employer could prove he did   
   not discriminate was to hire unqualified Blacks, who would have to be   
   "petted and pampered, cuddled and coddled." It was probably Kilpat-   
   rick who first applied the term "reverse racism" to this process.   
      
    The Long Island newspaper Newsday offered him a column with a promise   
   of syndication. As he saw it, his role was "to present to a national   
   audience the reasoned and calm point of view of a conservative White   
   Southerner," but that meant toning down anything about race. Instead,   
   he blasted welfare and the Great Society.   
      
       As a national figure, Kilpatrick felt he had to trim his sails,   
   though he still occasionally loosed his cannons on Blacks. In 1967, he   
   wrote: "[T]he law-abiding majority of this country, imperfect as it   
   is, ought to put a hard question to large elements of the Negro   
   community: When in the name of God are you people going to shape up?"   
      
       It was television, however, that made Kilpatrick famous. He was a   
   regular guest on Meet the Press, Inside Washington, and Agronsky & Com   
   pany. He pioneered the idea of delivering not just opinions but   
   personality. He understood that viewers wanted "a much more   
   personalized journalism than tradition has permitted," and carried   
   around a makeup kit to make sure he looked good for the cameras. By   
   1980, his column was in 538 dailies and he had an annual income of   
   more than $150,000. He was close to the Nixon White House, and the   
   president sought his advice.   
      
       All this came at a price. By 1974 he was writing that the Brown   
   decision had created "a far better America," and in 1977 claimed he   
   had overcome his "old-fashioned Southern racial prejudices." Now, he   
   said, he was just as incensed as anyone at "the virulent evils of a   
   pervasive racism" that the federal government had wisely put down.   
      
       One thing he never backed down on was opposition to race prefer-   
   ences and to school busing. He liked to claim that he was now race   
   blind whereas his opponents were still race-conscious troglodytes.   
      
      In his private life, Kilpatrick escaped from the consequences of   
   the changes he now claimed to accept. He built a house in rural   
   Rappahannock County, Virginia, 85 miles away from Washington, where   
   Blacks were still deferential. He wrote in an elegant office with a   
   zebra-skin rug, but fancied himself the successor to the Southern   
   agrarian tradition.   
      
      In one of his last political opinions, no doubt fittingly,   
   Kilpatrick completely reversed his earlier view of the role of the   
   federal government in local decision-making. When the Supreme Court   
   decided in 2007 that the cities of Seattle and Louisville could not   
   use race as a criterion for balancing school populations, Kilpatrick   
   rejoiced. What he once called the "judicial junta" was an honorable   
   institution so long as it ruled his way.   
      
      What are those of us who prefer the early James Kilpatrick to make   
   of his career? First, it is startling to think that even in 1964, a   
   New York State paper would offer a column to a man who had   
   distinguished himself as a segregationist. This is a tribute to   
   Kilpatrick's ability-he really could write-and a sign of how different   
   the times were.   
      
      The United States were not quite yet in today's terrified lockstep   
   on race.    Second, even before he sought respectability as a national   
   TV personality, it is curious that he pushed states' rights as if they   
   had nothing to do with race. Ordinary Americans were never going to   
   care about federal encroachment on state sovereignty unless they were   
   worried about specific policies the feds were trying to undo.   
      
      Finally, Kilpatrick, himself, certainly profited from his long   
   retreat. As a domesticated "conservative," he won fame, wealth, and   
   influence that would have been beyond the reach of a principled   
   "racist." As Prof. Hustwit notes, Kilpatrick was unquestionably the   
   nimblest of all the segregationists in changing his spots to keep up   
   with the times.   
      
      And maybe his views really did change; who is Prof. Hustwit to   
   insist that they did not? But if he did simply bury his convictions,   
   would he have done more good as a provincial race realist than as a   
   national conservative? All people who hedge their opinions in the hope   
   of a larger audience convince themselves that discretion is the price   
   of influence as they bank their honoraria and swan through the   
   corridors of power.   
      
       And, like Kilpatrick, they build oases far from the racial chaos   
   they no longer combat with all their strength.   
      
      Truth, however, especially the truth about race, needs more than ob   
   scure champions. It needs men like Arthur Jensen and Sam Francis. It   
   needs men who are respected and prominent and who, unlike James   
   Watson or James Kilpatrick, refuse to back down.   
      
      Kilpatrick unquestionably trimmed to reach prominence. Once he   
   reached the top, would it have simply been impossible for him to speak   
   the truth to the larger audience he obviously craved?   
      
      
      
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