That October day in 1984 was one of contrasts for then U.S. Sen. Jesse Helms.
In fact, that’s what I wrote and what a copy editor stole for a headline: “A Day of Contrasts for Helms.”
The headline appeared under a wide, four-column photograph ó made even more poignant I think now ó because it was black and white.
It showed Helms extending his right arm for a handshake to a silent line of Livingstone College students whose arms were interlocked, their faces defiant. They didn’t shake the senator’s hand.
After an uncomfortable moment when nothing was said, Helms turned to his waiting car and shouted back to the students who had boycotted his appearance, “Just the same, I love you. Hang in there.”
Tonight at 9, UNC-TV will have a 90-minute special on Helms that surely will show, as it promises, an American politician who was beloved, hated and controversial.
If nothing else, Helms’ visit to the historically black Livingstone College in mid- October just weeks before the most important election in his career was courageous. It didn’t make political sense, and even Helms himself told the students he wouldn’t be winning anyone over.
“I knew when I came in how you were going to vote,” he said.
But that was Helms. He had an invitation to speak at the college, and he was going to fulfill his obligation.
During his talk and while answering questions inside, Helms (a.k.a. “Senator No”) defended his vote against a Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. holiday and extension of the Voting Rights Act.
The King holiday cost too much, and he wouldn’t be advocating for another federal holiday for anyone, he said.
As for the Voting Rights Act extension, Helms said it wasn’t an extension at all but a political ploy to relocate precincts in certain states. He said he would never violate the Constitution to gain political popularity among minority groups.
In the auditorium, Helms told his mostly black listeners that they were “shooting themselves in the foot” by sticking with a Democratic Party that took them for granted and had been “jerking you around 35 years.”
He urged them to “wake up and smell the coffee.”
But for as much as he railed against politics and politicians, Helms may have been the shrewdest politician the state has ever seen, and he truly had the last big political machine in North Carolina ó the Congressional Club ó which grew to be the country’s largest PAC.
Helms suggested several times during his Livingstone visit that the protest/boycott outside was probably orchestrated by his opponent, Gov. Jim Hunt. “I know how clever they are,” he said.
In Salisbury that day, Helms made sure his African-American aide, Claude Allen, was with him every step. He also brought with him a notable black supporter, Roosevelt Grier, an actor, former All-Pro football player and bodyguard of U.S. Sen. Robert F. Kennedy up to his assassination in 1968.
After Helms had left, Grier stayed behind and was surrounded by Livingstone College students who asked him how he could support Helms, who often embodied for African-Americans the Jim Crow South.
Grier explained he had become a born-again Christian six years earlier and supported Helms strictly on religious issues such as abortion and school prayer.
It was a day of contrasts for Helms, too, because he showed up at Republican headquarters in Salisbury, where a large crowd greeted him warmly and sang “Happy Birthday.” He was turning 63 the next day.
He kissed women, held babies and autographed pictures and a Bible. No silent treatment.
After Livingstone College, he went to a Salisburian’s private home for a reception, where he told the crowd he had gotten “the full treatment” at Livingstone. He told his supporters that 1984 was a make-or-break year that would decide the country’s direction, and he reminded them that President Reagan was a “friend of mine and a friend of yours.”
That still sounds familiar among Republican candidates today.
Helms won the 1984 election. It was the most expensive in state history and cemented Helms’ place in North Carolina’s history, if not America’s.
I’m guessing tonight’s public television special on Helms, now 86 years old and long removed from his harangues on integration, abortion, civil rights, arts funding and gays, will describe a man of contrasts, if not contradictions.
I hope it gives him the full treatment.
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“Senator No: Jesse Helms” premiers on UNC-TV at 9 tonight. Independent filmmaker John Wilson had access to considerable archives for the project, and the film includes interviews with Helms, his opponents and allies and other observers.