Surviving a Weekend with America's Premiere Pro-White Activist Group

In late June, two days after temporarily relocating to Alabama, I'm seated in the conference room of a hotel in the town of Sheffield, in the northwest section of the state. I've come to the region to do research for a book about Latino immigrants in the U.S. South -- where their population is growing fastest -- and how they are (or aren't) being welcomed. After arriving in my motel and dealing with the initial pangs of homesickness, I stumble across an online posting for the annual meeting of the Council of Conservative Citizens, to be held 20 miles from where I am staying. I know that the right-wing group is the reincarnation of the White Citizens' Council -- formed to fight integration after the Brown vs. Board of Education decision -- and that it takes a hard line against immigration. Without any other plans, I decide to show up.

One of the first people I hear speak is an elderly man named Drue Lackey. I read from the program that he will discuss "Civil Rights in Alabama." Standing behind the podium in front of a group of 75 people, with a head of soft white hair that resembles two cumulus clouds, he begins with a caveat. "There are some things I can't talk about because the statute of limitations hasn't run out yet," he says.

As Lackey introduces himself, I realize that I've actually seen his face before -- and you probably have, too. He's the white police officer who fingerprinted Rosa Parks in Montgomery after her arrest, an iconic image of the Civil Rights Movement. He spent 22 years in law enforcement, retiring as the chief of police for Montgomery in 1970, and recently self-published a book about the period. He tells us a story about the violence that rocked the city.

In reaction to the boycott, Lackey explains, whites had firebombed four churches and the homes of Martin Luther King Jr. and Ralph Abernathy. While Lackey was investigating one of the incidents, he noticed a car slowly driving by. "This is something that for some reason criminals like to do, to revisit the scene of the crime," he says. His police instincts were correct: He pulled the car over and won a confession from the men, who led him to a stash of explosives that they were planning to use in the future.

"Now, we had an all-white jury on that case," he continues. "They deliberated for 45 minutes, and they returned a 'not guilty' verdict on all counts." The people sitting at my table, whose name tags identify them as being from Missouri, start to clap. Others join in, some standing, until the room fills with applause.

Lackey looks heartened by the response. He explains that one of the reasons he wrote his book was to tell the "other side" of the Montgomery Bus Boycott. In his rendering, "The communist Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat to an elderly, feeble man," and "Martin 'Lootin' King was a traitor to his country." Presumably the only journalist in the room, I take my notes nervously, expecting someone to chase me out of this movement-building meeting.

I have no need to worry. Over the two-day conference, I hear a number of wildly racist claims, and no one seems to mind that I'm writing them all down. "We're witnessing the demise of the greatest race in the history of the world," thunders Paul Fromm, who I'll later learn is Canada's leading white supremacist. A speaker named Joel LeFever argues that the recent "pro-sodomite marriage" ruling in California can be traced back to the disastrous legalization of mixed-race marriages. Roan Garcia-Quintana, a Cuban American who is quick to point out that his ancestors are originally from Spain, laments the "invasion of aliens" from Mexico who "bring diseases and don't know how to use the toilet." I've spent some time with the far-right crowd, but this is the first time I've heard someone posit that Mexicans haven't figured out how to use the john.