Strom's Secret
BY KEN CUMMINS
Stories linking Sen. Strom Thurmond with Essie Washington have been woven into the fabric of Southern political folklore.
Clearly, the two share a special relationship, but is she really his daughter?
This photo from a 1948 South Carolina State College yearbook features the members of Delta Sigma Theta, to which Essie Mae Washington belonged. Classmate Frank E. Cain said Washington "is very likely the person standing third from the left rear in the photo. But I simply cannot make a positive identification because I never remember [Essie] not wearing her glasses."
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When South Carolina Gov. Strom Thurmond was running for president in
1948 on the Democratic party break-away Dixiecrat ticket, he vowed to keep
blacks out of the institutions of white southern life.
"All the bayonets in the Army cannot force the Negro into our homes,
our schools, our churches and our places of recreation," Thurmond said
then in one of his speeches.
Many who still recall his fiery, segregationist rhetoric of that
turbulent period say Thurmond often referred to blacks as "niggers" and
swore they would never be allowed to darken the doorways of public
buildings.
At the same time he was preaching segregation now and forever,
Thurmond discreetly was financing the education of a black coed business
administration major at all-black South Carolina State College in
Orangeburg.
That fact, had it become known at the time, could have ended
Thurmond's remarkable political career before it even got started, said
Southern historian Robert Sherrill.
Thurmond's relationship with and support of this black woman has
continued to this day, according to the woman's in-laws and members of
Thurmond's Senate staff.
But those who knew of the unusual relationship back then see no
contradiction in Thurmond's championing segregation while helping a young
black woman get ahead in life, because the woman purportedly is his
daughter.
Thurmond, born at the turn of the century when the Civil War defeat
still hung heavy over South Carolina, has lived a life that has spanned
the 20th Century, which has seen considerable change in southern ways.
And Thurmond, in supporting a black woman he supposedly sired,
remained loyal to one of the codes of his youth, said Bennettsville lawyer
Frank E. Cain, a classmate of the woman purported to be the senator's
daughter at South Carolina State in the late 1940s.
That code required white boys, who often learned about sex "on the
colored side of town," to take care of any children they fathered.
"It's just a carry-over from slavery where the white landlord had his
black family," Cain said recently. "That's the old South."
Thurmond, he said, sprang from those plantation roots. "Thurmond hated
black folks," Cain contends. "I think his reasons for helping Essie were
strictly personal."
The woman widely believed to be Thurmond's black daughter is Essie Mae
Washington, born in Thurmond's native Edgefield in 1925.
At the time of Washington's birth, her mother worked for Edgefield's
segregated school system, and Thurmond taught and coached white students.
While Thurmond advanced from those humble beginnings to national
prominence, Washington has lived a life in the shadows. Six months after
she was born, her mother moved to Pennsylvania, where Essie grew up and
graduated from high school. She returned to South Carolina to attend
college, where she met her husband.
Essie Mae Washington, now 71, lives in this house in the Los Angeles suburbs. She refuses to confirm or deny allegations that she is Sen. Strom Thurmond's daughter.
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The 71-year-old South Carolina native has lived in south
central Los Angeles for more than 20 years, and is the mother
of four children. A widow, she continues to work as a
counselor for adult education in a suburban Los Angeles school
system, and refuses to confirm or deny her blood ties to
Thurmond.
During a brief interview in June, 1994, Washington said the
senator "has been of assistance" to her, but "I don't have
anything to say on that. I don't want to say anything that
could hurt somebody who has done so much good," she said. "Why
don't you write about the good things he has done for people?"
When this reporter replied that he considered Thurmond's
longtime and continuing support of her to be one of the more
remarkable things he has done, Washington fell silent, and
refused to answer any more questions.
The story of Essie Washington is well-known in South Carolina among
people, black and white, who lived in the state and were active in
politics in the late 1940s and 1950s when this tale circulated widely.
During those years, Thurmond, a highly decorated war hero, was at the
forefront of South Carolina and national politics. He served as governor
from 1947-51, ran for president in 1948 on the anti-integration Dixiecrat
ticket, and won election to the U.S. Senate on a write-in vote
an unheard of feat
in 1954.
The story of Thurmond's black daughter, or references to it, has
appeared in print before. On Oct. 11, 1972, The Edgefield
Advertiser, the newspaper in the small town where Thurmond was born,
covered its entire front page with the following provocative headline:
"SEN. THURMOND IS UNPRINCIPLED
WITH COLORED OFFSPRING
WHILE PARADING AS A DEVOUT SEGREGATIONIST."
But the story inside the Advertiser, South Carolina's oldest
newspaper, provided no details about "colored offspring." W.W. Mims, the
newspaper's crusty, 85-year-old editor, has been a foe of Thurmond's for
more than 20 years.
A reporter for The State subsequently asked Thurmond about
the allegation, but the senator brushed aside the question with a
non-denial.
Former South Carolina journalist Marilyn W. Thompson, who had worked
on the story over a 10-year period, penned a lengthy account of her
research in the Aug. 4, 1992, edition of The Washington Post,
where she now works as an editor.
One of Washington's classmates claims that a reference to Thurmond
having sired a black daughter appeared in The Pittsburgh (Pa.)
Courier, a black-owned newspaper that continues to publish today.
Albert A. "Blue" Kennedy, vividly recalled that the Courier
ran a lengthy article in 1949 or 1950 focusing on Washington and her
family ties to Thurmond. A search of back issues of the Courier
on file at the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C., failed to confirm
Kennedy's recollection. The newspaper's current owners do not have copies
of the Courier from that period.
Kennedy said that Thurmond, governor of South Carolina at the time,
never denied the Courier's story. "What got me was, there was
never a protest or never an argument from his side," Kennedy said in a
phone interview. "One thinks he protests too little."
Mims said his front-page headline also did not draw a denial from
Thurmond, who was then serving in the U.S. Senate.
Kennedy was the first graduate of South Carolina State School of Law
in 1950. Julius Williams, Kennedy's friend who married undergraduate
Washington, a business major, while in law school, was the second. Both
men graduated in 1950, Thurmond's last full year as governor.
The law school was opened during Thurmond's term so the state could
continue to bar blacks from the University of South Carolina School of
Law. The courts had sanctioned the separate school for blacks.
Kennedy remembers that Thurmond came to the black university's campus
often during his years as governor to visit his daughter. Those visits
which Kennedy refers to as "special audiences"
took place in school president Miller Whitaker's office, out of
sight of the students.
But Leo Kerford, a professor at the law school at the time, recalls
seeing Thurmond and Washington together on campus. "He would come and
visit and sit out on the center court with her," Kerford said. "He wasn't
trying to hide it."
"It was so well-known," he said, "I believe it was a fact. The talk
was that he would visit her and hand her money. Her girlfriends in the
dormitory would wait for her to come back with money from Daddy."
Kerford said such conduct was not considered unusual at the time, even
though Thurmond was the nation's leading political voice for segregation.
"That's how he got his start, by yelling nigger' louder than anyone
else."
An official currently with the college confirmed that Thurmond had
paid Washington's tuition on at least one occasion.
Cain, a 1951 graduate of the law school, also remembers those visits.
"Gov. Thurmond used to come over to the college quite frequently," he
recalled. Cain said Thurmond would arrive in his "big, black Cadillac
limousine" with the state flag flying from the fender and a South Carolina
patrolman at the wheel.
He said he saw the governor's car on campus once or twice a semester,
but never actually saw Thurmond. Each time, word would quickly spread
among the students that the governor had come to visit his daughter.
Cain said Washington would be summoned to the president's office, and
would sometimes enter the administration building, known as Miller Hall,
through the back entrance. "[Thurmond] would come to the administration
building and meet the girl in the president's office," Cain said.
Modjeska Simkins, a longtime civil rights activist who died in 1992 at
the age of 92, was leader of the state NAACP when Thurmond was governor.
Simkins told a story about visiting President Whitaker and being
interrupted by his secretary, who announced that the governor was there to
see his daughter.
She said that the president explained to her that the governor's
daughter had violated curfew, and that Thurmond was down to have a talk
with her.
Simkins said that it was long-believed in the black community that
Thurmond had fathered a black daughter, but because "he did right by her"
no one would talk about it while he was still alive.
After the Oct. 11, 1972, edition of his newspaper appeared, Mims said
Thurmond was asked about the allegation by Jack Bass, a reporter for
The Charlotte Observer. Mims said Bass later told him Thurmond
responded by saying Mims had better watch himself, but did not deny the
allegation itself.
John Wrighten, who refers to himself as "professor/attorney," filed
the lawsuit that led to the creation of South Carolina State Law School.
Wrighten, now living in New London, Conn., said he, Julius Williams and
Washington were close friends during law school and afterwards. Williams
tutored him through some of his classes, and Washington typed his law
school papers during her senior year.
"I don't think she was Thurmond's daughter," Wrighten said, "I believe
it was a fact."
Wrighten remembers many occasions
in the school cafeteria, at parties and on campus
when women at the college would tease Washington about being
Thurmond's daughter.
"She was quite dignified," he said. "She would never even look at
them."
Wrighten said he heard "never a word from her mouth, never a word from
her husband's mouth" about Washington's relationship to Thurmond. "There
were so many half-white children at South Carolina State College when I
went there five or six girls you couldn't distinguish from white girls."
He said Washington was in that group.
Washington's sister-in-law, Charlotte Johnson of Savannah, said that
when her brother married, "He told us she was Thurmond's daughter. Essie
said the same thing."
Johnson said she initially was skeptical of Washington's claimed
birthright. But she became convinced it was true because "whenever she was
in need of money (after college), she'd say she was contacting him, and
then she would come back with the money." Robert, a cousin of Washington's
late husband, confirmed Johnson's account.
Chris Cimko, Thurmond's press secretary, said that there have been no
inquires regarding Washington during her tenure, but that she "had read
all the reports." Cimko had nothing to add to Thurmond's 1992 statement
that he did assist Washington with her tuition and that she "occasionally
drops by (Thurmond's office) when she is in the area."
As Thurmond prepares for his eighth run for the U.S. Senate, one of
South Carolina's most persistent rumors about its most durable politician
remains unresolved.
Ken Cummins is an investigative reporter and contributing editor
of City Paper in Washington D.C.
Thurmond Factoids Unearthed!
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