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30 SIN AND SALT WATER in the late 1940s, race relations were ignored by the Daily Herald, which for that matter was true of most other newspapers in the South. About the only time a black person’s name appeared in the paper was when one was charged with a crime. As for me, I lacked any sensitivity on the subject and rarely gave the matter much thought, although I suppose I accepted separation of the races as a matter of course. Still, an experience I had a year or so after joining the paper jolted me. I was talking to a young desk clerk in the Biloxi police station when an elderly black man walked in. The clerk, not much older than I was, looked up and snapped, “Get that hat off your head, nigger!” The black man quickly removed his hat, but the desk clerk’s harsh tone shocked me. It was one of the first times I felt a tinge of shame about the system—not just segregation, but the notion of white supremacy. I found the clerk’s comment repugnant—in part because, having been brought up to respect age, I was shocked that a young man could be so rude to an elderly person. And it was the first time I had heard “nigger” used in such a hostile way, although the word was routinely used by most white southerners when referring to blacks. I said nothing to the clerk, however. Given the times and circumstances , I figured it was a no-win situation. On top of that, honesty compels me to admit, I knew that protesting the clerk’s conduct could have cost me a source, a not inconsequential consideration at the time. At the Herald my annual salary was 2,536.65, and I made a little extra money by freelancing for the American Weekly and New York’s Universal Trade Press Syndicate. I loved reporting but finally decided I would be better off financially doing something else. That’s when I applied for a clerical job with the FBI, hoping to eventually become an agent. Chapter 5 sin and salt ater 31 Like many young men in that era, I thought J. Edgar Hoover was one of the greatest living Americans. I saw FBI agents as heroes, their manly deeds portrayed in The FBI in Peace and War, a weekly radio program sponsored by Lava soap that I never missed. I had been encouraged to apply by Warren Toole, Biloxi’s resident FBI agent, who said if I got the appointment I could go to college while working in Washington and could qualify as an agent after I graduated. The FBI’s file on me, which I received many years later under the Freedom of Information Act, was eye-opening. Although I was only applying for a clerical position, the bureau investigated me as thoroughly as if I had applied to be an undercover agent. Agents not only went back to Notre Dame High School to conduct interviews; they also investigated all the other schools I had attended in Alabama, Georgia, and Mississippi and talked with people in every town where I had lived. My name was run through the files of all U.S. intelligence agencies and the files of the House Un-American Activities Committee. An agent interviewed me in person for almost an hour, and I guess I managed to impress him because he gave me a pretty positive review. “Nelson is an aggressive, energetic young man,” he wrote. “He has a good personality and appears neatly dressed at all times. He is apparently an intelligent fellow who desires to further enhance his position in life. He is well above the average of usual clerical applicant prospects. Personal contact with him gives the impression that he is straightforward in his dealings, honest in his endeavors.” While waiting for word on my application, I got my first taste of investigative reporting. I began writing about the illegal gambling and liquor sales that flourished openly in Biloxi and along the Mississippi coast. Winking at state laws prohibiting gambling and liquor sales was seen as a Biloxi tradition. And with so many thousands of soldiers arriving at Keesler in the 1940s, Biloxi became a wide-open, anything-goes town. Gambling was so pervasive you could find slot machines and horse-race contraptions whirring in grocery and drug stores day and night. Nightclubs offered roulette wheels and blackjack tables. B-girls were...

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