Nancy A. Collins recalls:
In the early 1960s my father was both the deputy sheriff and the fire chief of a tiny rural town in Arkansas.
The first day he was in his equally tiny office above the general store, the Kleagle from the local Klan came in and told him "You get any Black boys or Freedom Riders in here, you call us first."
My father's response was "I don't take orders from Whyte Trash."
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