By Stephen Young
By Stephen Young
By Stephen Young
By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
"Just wait for Chapter Two," Mark Mueller, a member of the Sons of Confederate Veterans, said after the June 24 school board meeting.
During debate on renaming the school for the late U.S. Rep. Barbara Jordan, of Watergate fame, the eerie sense that old Confederates might be stirring in their graves was heightened by the uncanny resemblance some of the speakers bore to old Confederates. Jim McNabb, who spoke for the Sons of Confederate Veterans, looked as if he might have come to the meeting directly from a skirmish with the blue-bellies, gray hair and beard cut in an antique style designed to lend authenticity, no doubt, to his role in Civil War re-enactments.
On the other side of the aisle from the rebels was at least one person who thought the Civil War haircuts weren't remotely cute. "The public face is historical sentimentality" researcher Ed Sebesta said afterward. "But the private reality is increasingly radical."
The school board meeting seemed at first as if it might become a pretty good Civil War re-enactment in itself. When McNabb and other representatives of the Sons of Confederate Veterans rose to speak against the renaming, cat-calls and other denunciations rang out from the chamber, especially from black people in the audience.
Jefferson Davis Elementary, named for the president of the Confederacy, serves a student population that is 98 percent black and Hispanic. Parents have been lobbying for years to get the name changed, arguing that a slave-holding champion of the rebellion is not an uplifting icon for African-American and Hispanic kids to see every day on their way to class.
But in these complex times, not even the cat-callers at the recent school board meeting could get their story straight: Some of the most persistent booing by black members of the audience came when a parent rose to thank school board member Se-Gwen Tyler, who is black, for helping them. At one point boos for Tyler threatened to disrupt the proceedings. Some people in the black community are mad at Tyler for helping elect a white board president recently. But Ed Sebesta thought he saw even deeper scores emerging in the evening's acrimony.
Sebesta, who is white, has made a personal crusade of expunging the Confederate aftertaste from Dallas schools and monuments. Seven years ago, Sebesta wrote to the late Yvonne Ewell, then a member of the school board, to plead that she lead the way to getting Jefferson Davis renamed. "I never heard a word from her," he says. In his voluminous files, Sebesta keeps Ewell's front-page Dallas Morning News obituary of last year. The story was accompanied by a photograph of Ewell, who was black, standing in her apartment in front of a large mural depicting the antebellum South, with bales of cotton piled by a river in the background. Of her smiling expression in the photograph, Sebesta says, "What that means is, 'I've got mine, now you get yours.'"
Sebesta was not surprised when it was Tyler who finally stepped forward to help the parents at Jeff Davis, precisely because Tyler is not tied to the old Dallas black establishment. By taking on the school name fight, Tyler tackled an issue the black establishment in Dallas has long been strangely content to ignore -- the legacy of slavery and the Confederacy in the public life of the city.
"Se-Gwen wanted this," he says, "which certainly de-fangs her opposition. She's 100 times more militant than the whole lot of them put together."
Sebesta, who led an unsuccessful fight in the early '90s to have the statue of Robert E. Lee removed from Lee Park, is perhaps better known away from home than here. He is mentioned in the acknowledgments for Peter Applebome's book, Dixie Rising, as well as in Tony Horwitz's Confederates in the Attic. The Washington Post named him last year as the principal source for its story revealing that Senate Majority Leader Trent Lott, contrary to his denials, had consorted with the Council of Conservative Citizens, a group with strong ties to the old white Citizens Councils.
An engineer with a major high-tech company, Sebesta carries out his researches into the "neo-Confederate movement" after work from an office in his home in Dallas. He has provided information to the Anti-Defamation League and the Southern Poverty Law Center in Montgomery, Alabama. Mark Briskman of the Dallas office of the ADL and Mark Potok at the SPLC both say Sebesta's research has proved solid.
The main case Sebesta tries to make with his research is that the Civil War re-enactors, local history buffs, and sword-collectors who show up on the surface of issues like the Jefferson Davis school-renaming often are tied, whether they know it or not, to much darker themes and even to organizations that promote racism.