Texas ExesAlcalde

UT’s first black undergraduates
tell their stories.

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Charles Miles & Leon Holland

I did not come as a pioneer. I did not come as an activist. I came as a 17-year-old kid who wanted to get an education.

—Leon Holland
1961 Graduate

Leon Holland

On a Thursday night in September, about 50 black alumni, UT staff, and community members file into the Alumni Center’s Connally Ballroom for a panel discussion titled “Then and Now.” The atmosphere is casual, with friends hugging and chatting about the football team’s big win over Notre Dame the previous weekend; a young mom bounces a smiling baby on her shoulder. The room falls silent, though, when four people rise and begin walking toward the front of the room.

Charles Miles, Mamie Ewing, Leon Holland, and Willie Jordan are impeccably dressed. Now in their 80s, they walk slowly and deliberately to take their seats onstage. Lori Lewis-Conerly, MSW ’06, Life Member, past chair of the Texas Exes Black Alumni Network, introduces them, saying simply, “I am here because of you.”

Leon Holland housing letter
Campus protests of segregation
From left: The letter that Leon Holland received as an incoming freshman, informing him about UT's segregated dorms. Courtesy Leon Holland. UT students protesting the segregation policies at Austin restaurants. Richard Dunn, UT Texas Student Publications Photographs, e.uttsp_00041, The Dolph Briscoe Center for American History, The University of Texas at Austin.

Over the next hour, the four share their memories of what it was like to be among the Precursors—the first black undergraduate students to enroll at UT-Austin in 1956. As wide-eyed teenagers and 20-somethings, they arrived just one year after Emmett Till was lynched in Mississippi. The civil rights movement was in its infancy, and Martin Luther King Jr. wouldn’t give his “I Have a Dream” speech for another seven years. Although the Supreme Court’s ruling in Brown v. Board of Education had mandated that public schools desegregate two years earlier, the pace of change was glacial. Classrooms were virtually the only place on the UT campus where black students could go, with dormitories, student organizations, sports teams, and nearby businesses all still separated by race.

“I can't imagine what it was like for those 75 or so men and women that came here in 1956, just two years following Brown v. Board of Education.”

Listen to Cloteal Haynes

Listen to Cloteal Haynes

Miles, Ewing, Holland, and Jordan talk about peers who hurled racial epithets, professors who refused to call on them in class, and the difficulty of finding a place to eat dinner when all the restaurants surrounding the campus were whites-only. They also talk about forming lifelong friendships, discovering new interests and careers, and finding allies in unexpected places. And they nod in recognition when Calep Smith, a 20-year-old junior studying corporate communication, describes what it’s like to be black on the Forty Acres today. “You feel like you have to mask yourself,” Smith says. “You don’t want to be seen as ‘too black,’ but you also don’t want to cover it up too much. It can get lonely.”

At the end of the evening, someone asks if there are any black UT freshmen in the audience. Two young women stand and smile shyly. The applause is thunderous, and as the generations regard each other from across the room, 60 years of history are suddenly made visible.

“The environment even today is still charged,” says Cloteal Haynes, BM ’72, MPAff ’77. “Not only here, but around the country, we are dealing with racially motivated behavior. So I can’t imagine what it was like for those 75 or so men and women who came in 1956.”

Haynes is president of the Precursors, Inc., a group composed of the first generation of African Americans to attend UT-Austin. While the organization was founded by the first undergraduate class that entered in 1956—graduate students were admitted earlier, starting with Heman Sweatt in 1950—membership is now open to all black alumni who graduated 40 or more years ago. In addition to gathering socially, the Precursors are now collaborating with UT administrators to improve recruitment and retention of black students and faculty. (Today, the state of Texas is 12.5 percent black, but only 3.6 percent of UT-Austin faculty and 4.5 percent of students are.) With support from the Division of Diversity and Community Engagement, the Black Alumni Network, and many other parts of the university, Haynes led the effort to recognize the 60th anniversary of the first class this fall. “The Precursors means ‘those who came before,’” she says, “and we want to say thank you for everything they made possible for those who followed.” —Rose Cahalan

Charles Miles & Leon Holland
Charles Miles, left, and Leon Holland at a coffee shop on the Drag. Wyatt McSpadden.
Charles Miles & Leon Holland
Charles Miles, left, and Leon Holland at a coffee shop on the Drag. Wyatt McSpadden.
Charles Miles & Leon Holland
Charles Miles, left, and Leon Holland at a coffee shop on the Drag. Wyatt McSpadden.

In Their Own Words

Charles Miles

Graduated in 1960

“Coming to the University of Texas wasn’t a hard decision, because I was young and I wasn’t afraid of anything. The day that I made the trip for the first time, my brother was shipping off to Korea with the military on the very same day. My parents were more concerned about me going off to Austin than him going to Korea!

Everything was still segregated. We couldn’t eat in restaurants or play varsity sports or go to the movie theater, things like that. But I was used to it. I grew up in Hearne, Texas, in a very segregated setting, so none of this was new to me. You have to remember that the last lynching in Texas took place in Waco in 1952, just four years before I came to the university. And we didn’t have the Civil Rights Act yet.

On Sundays, the university cafeterias were closed and everyone else went to eat on the Drag. That was when it hurt the most, because we couldn’t go. There was a man we called Pop, I think he was Greek-American, who opened his restaurant to us. It wasn’t just blacks—a lot of white students joined us there too. That was a great place, Pop’s.

When you were in a classroom, someone might come and see a vacant seat next to you, and they definitely wouldn’t sit in it. Many times I was the only black person in a class. Even today, only a small percentage of UT students are black, so it may well still be the case. I had some great experiences and some great teachers, and I made some great friends at the university. As a state institution, it belongs to us just like to the rest of Texas. It’s my alma mater and I’m proud of it.”

“When you consider the state of the country today, it's important that people know you never can give up.”

Listen to Charles Miles

Listen to Charles Miles


After UT: As the first director of the City of Austin Human Relations Commission, Miles worked to help integrate Austin public schools and to improve race relations. He also worked on prison reform for the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights. Today, Miles is an associate professor of government at Austin Community College.

Leon Holland

Graduated in 1961, Life Member

“I did not come as a pioneer, I did not come as an activist. I came as a 17-year-old kid who wanted to get an education.

My first real experience with racism did not occur until I went to my first football game. UT was playing USC, who had an outstanding black running back named C.R. Roberts. We were losing pretty bad—the score ended up at 44-20. All around us, people were shouting, ‘Stop that nigger! Kill that nigger!’ And this was our first experience of college life.

The draft was the law of the land, and I thought if I had to serve, it should be as a commissioned officer. The ROTC was very open and supportive. We were brothers—race didn’t matter as much there. Even though the band was not integrated yet, the armed forces band was. I got to play my clarinet and march on the field. One summer, our unit went to Fort Lee, Virginia, for summer camp. I was the only black cadet. The officer who was in charge took us out for ice cream one evening, and we walked in and found out, nope, I can’t go. Rather than me having to wait outside, we all agreed, OK, we won’t stop here, let’s just keep on trucking.

Some professors had a policy of not calling on blacks, even when participation was part of your grade. In those classes, if you were black, the best you could make was a C. It was also difficult if you were required to see a movie for class, because the movie theaters did not allow blacks. There were many places we could not go. You didn’t dare venture into the area now called West Campus, and you definitely didn’t swim in Barton Creek.

When I graduated, I swore I would never set foot on this campus again, but over the years my attitude has evolved. It’s been very encouraging to see the university change. Now there are so many support systems for students, which was unheard of in my time. I walk around the campus and I see black faces and white faces, Asian and Latino and multicultural faces. Many of the younger students may have no idea of the struggles that we had—just like I didn’t know the struggles of my grandparents. Everybody comes on the shoulders of someone.”

“Just about any classes you would go to, you would be shunned away or ignored.”

Listen to Leon Holland

Listen to Leon Holland


After UT: Holland made history as the first African-American ROTC officer to be commissioned at the University of Texas. He went on to serve more than 30 years in the U.S. Army Medical Service Corps, including time in Vietnam, Germany, Korea, and France, before retiring as a colonel.

Integration newspaper clippings
Clippings from left to right: Alcalde Magazine, April 1961; Daily Texan, October 1961; Unknown publication, courtesy Lonnie Fogle.
Willie Jordan
Willie C. Jordan Jr. on the steps of the Texas Memorial Museum, near the site where he witnessed a cross-burning in the 1950s. Wyatt McSpadden.
Willie Jordan
Willie C. Jordan Jr. on the steps of the Texas Memorial Museum, near the site where he witnessed a cross-burning in the 1950s. Wyatt McSpadden.

Willie C. Jordan Jr.

Graduated in 1963, Life Member

“I didn’t think I would be able to go to college immediately. I was one of 12 children, and my parents couldn’t afford it, so I was scheduled to go into the Air Force. Eventually, I got a scholarship, but I was late, and the only two schools that would take me for architecture were UT and the University of Washington. Out-of-state tuition was a no-go, so UT it was.

This was only a year after Emmett Till was savagely killed. Yes, that flashed across my mind. But my parents told me not to come back until I had a degree, so I didn’t have much choice.

Starting out in the architecture school, many of us got F’s. We questioned if we could do it. But after the third semester, the light bulb came on. And our instructors were great. Because we worked so hard, oftentimes staying up without any sleep, there wasn’t time for the other architecture students to exhibit any racial hatred.

We had a stand-in at Kinsolving to protest the segregation of the dormitories. We sat in the lobby, and when the police told us to leave, we peacefully left. About five days later, our dean sent a letter to every African-American student—whether they had protested or not—telling us we were on probation. There was a list of about 20 things you couldn’t do on probation—parties, sports, things like that. I laughed, because we couldn’t do those things anyway!

There was a cross-burning once on San Jacinto, on the grassy knoll in front of the natural history museum. My friends and I just walked on over and put it out, if you know what I mean.

We couldn’t play varsity sports, so we did intramurals. Our track team was really good. I was only about 105 lbs. soaking wet, so I acted as the coach. Clyde Littlefield, the varsity track coach, told us more than once that he wished he could put our runners on his team.

We had some good, some bad, and some ugly, but I met great people and I earned a fantastic education. I was not an MLK, turn-the-other-cheek kind of guy. I was going to fight for every inch, and I did.”

“Most of our experiences have never been put in the books, just like most African American histories have not been written.”

Listen to Willie Jordan

Listen to Willie Jordan


After UT: One of the first black architects to be licensed in Texas, Jordan co-founded his own firm. He is now senior architect at ESPA/KCI Technologies in Houston. Some of his notable projects include the George R. Brown Convention Center and a rebuild of the Fifth Ward's Phillis Wheatley High School—his other alma mater.

Willie Jordan
Willie C. Jordan Jr. on the steps of the Texas Memorial Museum, near the site where he witnessed a cross-burning in the 1950s. Wyatt McSpadden.

Civil Rights at the University of Texas: a timeline

Charles Miles & Leon Holland
Norma at Sam's BBQ in East Austin. Wyatt McSpadden.
Norma Lawrence
Norma at Sam's BBQ in East Austin. Wyatt McSpadden.
Norma Lawrence
Norma at Sam's BBQ in East Austin. Wyatt McSpadden.

Norma Lawrence

Attended 1956-59

“I grew up in Austin and went to Anderson High School. Austin was a pretty progressive town for the time. You know, discrimination and racism—it happened, but it wasn’t a part of my world. I was in love with the world, and I didn’t always recognize it for what it was. Growing up, we learned to use the restroom before we left home, because public restrooms weren’t always open to us. If it was an emergency, my dad would take us to his office and we could go there. We would race to get to the back of the bus. I didn’t know any better.

I went to the university because it was affordable. Tuition was $50 a semester, can you believe that? We girls had to take a class called Posture and Basic Movement. You learned to sit up straight, keep your clothes and your nails in good shape, that kind of thing. We also had to pass a swimming class, which was difficult because I didn’t know how to swim. But I learned.

One semester I had an English professor, an older lady. I would turn my papers in and do really well, but then I’d get a special note saying I wasn’t doing well. Finally after it happened a few times—not just once or twice—I went to the head of the department and told him what was going on. I showed him my work. He said he was sorry I had to go through this, and he immediately moved me to a different class. He said that the professor was from the old school. I thought that meant she was from Europe. I’m almost ashamed how much I did not know.

We had such a strong black community on the East Side; I loved it. There was a little place just up 12th and Chicon where they had poetry readings and jazz music, and we’d have a real good time. I also went to plays and dances at Huston-Tillotson. It was important to have that community, because at UT you could walk around for a month and not see another black face.

I ended up graduating from Huston-Tillotson instead, but I had a really good experience at UT and was thankful for my time there. I learned a lot of life lessons, which I suppose everyone does in college. I just turned 79, and it still feels like it was yesterday.”

“It was important to have that community [on the East Side], because at UT you could walk around for a month and not see another black face.”


After UT: Lawrence was a social worker for the state of Texas and the owner of a day care center before becoming a stay-at-home parent.

June McCoy
NAACP gathering
Gwen Jordan at UT
UT campus
Leon Holland
Mamie Ewing
Clockwise from top left: June Singletary McCoy. Courtesy McCoy. Gwen Jordan, the first African American elected to Student Assembly, stands in front of the UT tower. Courtesy Lonnie Fogle. Leon Holland at his ROTC pinning ceremony with his then-girlfried, now-wife Peggy Drake, left, and his mother, Pauline Inman Holland. Courtesy Leon Holland. Mamie Ewing, BA ’61. Courtesy June McCoy. University of Texas campus, May 1958. By U News and Information Services, Prints an Photographs Collection, di_00805, The Dolph Briscoe Center for American History, The University of Texas at Austin NAACP gathering, with Thurgood Marshall, Heman Sweatt, and others. Juanita Jewel Shanks Craft Collection, di_02534, The Dolph Briscoe Center for American History, The University of Texas at Austin.
June Singletary McCoy
June Singletary McCoy at Duren Residence Hall. Wyatt McSpadden.
June Singletary McCoy
June Singletary McCoy at Duren Residence Hall. Wyatt McSpadden.

June Singletary McCoy

Graduated in 1960

“I started out at Texas Southern University [a historically black university] and transferred after my freshman year, when we found out that UT was integrating. My mother, who was a teacher, really encouraged me to go. I’m glad I had that first year at Texas Southern, because I got the typical freshman experience of taking part in all the activities.

There wasn’t much time for socializing, because the classes were very demanding. I had a hard time with organic chemistry and biology. I had never even seen a test tube before! In my economics class, I once tried to go to the professor’s office hours for help because I was so lost in his class. Well, he just sat there and kept grading papers. He didn’t even acknowledge my presence. Eventually I got up and left. They weren’t all like that, though. I had many professors who were kind, especially the home economics teachers.

We lived in Eliza Dee Dormitory over on the East Side for two years. There was a white lady, a professor at Huston-Tillotson, who would drive some of the girls to UT early each morning in her station wagon before she went to work. I didn’t have early morning classes, so I walked. This was before Highway I-35 was built. Once, a white girl came to my dorm to copy my notes from class. The next day, though, I passed her on the sidewalk and she looked the other way.

Eventually we did get a black sorority, Alpha Kappa Alpha Delta Xi Chapter. That was nice, because the service organizations like Orange Jackets and Silver Spurs were closed to us. Later we learned that the white sororities and fraternities kept copies of tests from past years, which they used to study from. We were in the dark about these things.

In 2007, I came back to the campus for the dedication of Duren Residence Hall, named in honor of Almetris Duren, the woman who devoted her life to us. Mama Duren [a dormitory housemother and Dean of Students employee who was a mentor to black students] was a sweetheart. You could talk to her about any problem you had, and she prepared wonderful meals. We weren’t supposed to cook, but if you wanted to make some biscuits, she never fussed about it.

We toured the new dorm—five stories, integrated, and coed—and I was thinking, here we are! Here we are with a dorm named after Mama Duren, and we even have a black football coach. Now, I know we aren’t all there yet. I remember hearing about when the Martin Luther King Jr. statue was defaced, and hearing about the bleach-filled balloons dropped on black students. But we are going to get there someday.”

“Now we even have a black football coach. I know we aren't all there yet, but we are going to get there someday.”


After UT: McCoy taught junior high and high school home economics for more than 30 years.

June Singletary McCoy
McCoy at Duren Residence Hall. Wyatt McSpadden.