of our sentencing.
Then he laughs and says,
“But I wasn’t even in law school yet,
five years ago.
Let me think about how to get this in the courts—
find a hook—
and I’ll call you. I think we can win this.
It’s an important case,
Mr. and Mrs. Loving.”
Important.
I nod again.
RICHARD
Why is it SO DIFFICULT?
We just want to go home.
MILDRED
TWO MONTHS LATER
NOVEMBER 1963
Waiting
isn’t easy.
We just want a telephone call to come and say,
“Okay, you can go back home.”
What we do get is a call
from Mr. Cohen
saying he found the hook.
He found another old case,
which a lawyer reopened
because it was
“still in the breast of the court.”
That’s what they do—
find old cases that some other lawyer won,
and use that as an argument
for what they want
to do.
What we want to do is
get the case back in the courts.
Mr. Cohen says our “suspended sentence”
means our case is not finished.
It’s suspended, floating out there—
“still in the breast of the court.”
Mr. Cohen says he filed a motion to ask Judge Bazile
“to vacate judgment”—
that is, change his mind.
Mr. Cohen says our sentence is
“cruel and unusual punishment”—
that our
“banishment”
violates the right to be married
under the 14th Amendment.
I think back to high school civics class,
try to remember the
14th Amendment of the U.S. Constitution.
At the time
I didn’t think it had anything to do
with me.
Mr. Cohen says
he’ll get back to us soon—
just as soon as he hears from Judge Leon Bazile.
Please please PLEASE,
Mr. Judge Bazile,
call Mr. Cohen and
say we can come home.
PLEASE.
It’s so simple.
Just a phone call.
THE RIGHTS OF A FREE PEOPLE
NOVEMBER 1963
Bernie Cohen was a young lawyer on fire. He knew the Lovings’ case was important—he even loved their name, Loving, which described both the couple and the heart of the case.
The Lovings had pleaded guilty at their first trial. To avoid a prison sentence, they opted for Judge Bazile’s offer of a suspended sentence. But that suspension—that pause—made the matter still under Judge Bazile’s jurisdiction—or still “in the breast of the court.”
Bernie Cohen filed a motion in Judge Bazile’s Circuit Court of Caroline County to vacate the conviction—to annul or render void Judge Bazile’s previous conviction of the Lovings and their suspended sentence of 1959.
In his motion, Cohen wrote that banishment for twenty-five years is “cruel and unusual punishment” and that the equal protection clause of the 14th Amendment of the U.S. Constitution protected the right to marry, which is a fundamental right of a free people.
In the course of his brief, Cohen contended that to keep the races from “mixing” requires segregation—and segregation was illegal.
14TH AMENDMENT
“Section 1. All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the state wherein they reside. No state shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any state deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.”
The 14th Amendment was ratified July 9, 1868, following the 13th Amendment, which abolished slavery and was ratified in 1865.
RICHARD
SEVEN MONTHS LATER
JUNE 1964
I don’t reckon we’re ever
going to hear from those men.
I don’t hold much hope.
They talk and talk and
then they forget about you
’cause they just talk talk TALKIN’
to someone else.
Just talk.
I told Millie to forget them.
1964
“It shall be . . . unlawful . . . to discriminate against any individual . . . because of such individual’s race, color, religion, sex, or national origin.” —CIVIL RIGHTS ACT OF 1964
July 1964 President Lyndon Johnson signs the Civil Rights Act into law
MILDRED
Waiting.
Mr. Cohen said he’ll call me
when he hears from Judge Bazile.
I stopped calling him and asking.
The answer is always no.
I decided a letter might be better.
Dear Mr. Cohen,
Hope that you remember us.
You took our case.
We haven’t heard anything
in so long, we’ve given up hope.
Sincerely,
Mr. and Mrs. Loving
RICHARD
FIVE MONTHS LATER
NOVEMBER 1964
We had an appointment with the lawyers
in their Washington, D.C., office.
I said to Mr. Cohen,
Can’t you just go see Judge Bazile?
We’re Americans.
He has no right to say No.
MILDRED
Mr. Cohen says,
“Mr. and Mrs. Loving,
we’re working on the case.
We have to wait on Judge Bazile.
I know this is frustrating.
He’s clearly stalling—
perhaps he’s hoping to retire
before he has to rule on your case.
But I don’t think that will happen.
It’s not over.
Please be patient.”
He introduces us to Mr. Hirschkop,
who is also working on our case.
Mr. Hirschkop says,
“I’ve requested
a temporary restraining order
against enforcement
of your original sentence.”
He calls it an
“off-the-record truce.”
Richard and I sit
in their itty-bitty office
in Washington, D.C.,
wondering what this means
exactly.
1964
November 1964 Mildred and Richard Loving meet with ACLU lawyers Bernard Cohen and Philip Hirschkop
Richard is slouched low in his chair.
He has nothing to say.
They can see he’s disgusted.
When they leave the room
Richard takes hold of my hand.
When they return,
he’s still holding my hand.
The lawyers say they’ll call us
when they get word.
We’ve heard this before
but I know these men
are working hard for us.
I remind myself that it’s complicated.
We just don’t know why
it takes so long.
It’s so simple.
We want to go home.
I want to call
President Johnson
and for him to say
Mr. and Mrs. Loving,
You may go home.
MILDRED
LATER IN NOVEMBER 1964
Mr. Hirschkop calls.
“Mrs. Loving, I have good news.
You and Mr. Loving may return—
not to Caroline County—
but to one of the nearby counties—
Essex or King and Queen County,
as long as
political tension doesn’t mount.”
That is the “off-the-record truce.”
He says we won’t be bothered.
He says, “If it gets too hot
you’ll have a week
to leave Virginia.”
He says, “If there’s some problem
and you get arrested
we’ll get you out of jail
within an hour.”
He advises us to keep our apartment
in Washington
just in case we need
to leave Virginia
quickly.
While I’m waiting for Richard to come home
and tell him the news
I start packing the children’s clothes.
Laura stands in the doorway
and smiles at me.
RICHARD
I found us a nice farmhouse to let
on the edge of King and Queen County
close to home—
just a few miles from Passing Road, Central Point,
Caroline County.
It’s isolated.
You can see the road for a piece—
see if anyone’s driving up.
And I found work in Washington,
good pay—
$5 an hour.
The lawyers say this is important—
my working in Washington.
It’s part of hiding.
My paycheck comes from Washington, D.C.,
where we’re supposed
to be living.
It’s kind of crazy,
still drive back and forth
eating up $35 a week in gas.
But it’s nice to be near home.
It makes Millie
a far sight
happier.
And every now and then
she laughs—
that beautiful laugh that I love so much.
MILDRED
A MONTH LATER
DECEMBER 1964
The children play outside.
Richard has made them a tire swing.
When it’s warm enough
they can run barefoot and not
worry about broken glass in the streets.
But today they put on shoes.
No more city sounds.
No more sirens and honking.
Instead
owls hoot at night,
crows caw in daytime,
cardinals flash through the yard.
The farmhouse comes with cats
and Daddy loaned us Jack.
Sidney chases the black cat,
and Jack, barking to high heaven,
chases Sidney.
Don chases Jack.
Everyone is laughing.
Maybe even all that barking
is Jack
laughing.
Peggy helps me gather sticks
for the stove.
Richard is at work.
I feel a huge weight
lift off my shoulders—
like I’ve been carrying
a big ole boulder around
for six years—
and I just now
let it roll off.
I do keep my eye on the road
and get ready to gather the children
if the sheriff drives up.
I remind myself,
if we get arrested,
they’ll get us out in one hour.
Five hours at the most,
they say.
Living here
is worth that risk.
I enroll Sidney in school,
across the line in Essex County
because it’s the closest to
our farmhouse.
When I go to pick him up
after school
the Essex County sheriff rolls up, says,
“They might look the other way in King and Queen,
but here in Essex,
we ever see you
together with your husband,
we’ll arrest you.”
I’ll find a school in King and Queen.
We’ll have to drive farther to get him there.
Maybe we’ll get bus service—
but there aren’t always buses
for colored kids.
“ALMIGHTY GOD CREATED THE RACES WHITE, BLACK, YELLOW, MALAY, AND RED”
JANUARY 1965
A federal three-judge panel convened to consider Cohen and Hirschkop’s motion—whether Virginia’s anti-miscegenation laws were constitutional and whether they could be enforced by the State. The judges heard the case on DECEMBER 28, 1964. The three judges declined to rule on Virginia’s law, saying the issue might still be resolved in the Virginia State Court.
However, the spokesman for the three-judge panel, Judge Butznor, gave Judge Bazile and the State of Virginia a maximum of 90 days to “render an opinion” or the case would go to Federal Court. The threat to the Lovings of being imprisoned required the Virginia court to answer without delay.
Finally, in January of 1965. Leon Bazile made his ruling.
Citing cases from the 1820s—when slavery was legal—Judge Leon Bazile found that whipping, selling, or exiling people was not cruel or unusual punishment. Neither was sterilizing a defendant. Citing another case from the nineteenth century, also dated 40 years prior to the abolition of slavery, he found that what did constitute cruel and unusual punishment was a person being burned at the stake, crucified, or broken on the wheel (a torture device from the Middle Ages).
In addition to citing century-old cases, Judge Leon Bazile made his own statement. He wrote:
“ALMIGHTY GOD CREATED THE RACES WHITE, BLACK, YELLOW, MALAY, AND RED AND HE PLACED THEM ON SEPARATE CONTINENTS. AND BUT FOR THE INTERFERENCE WITH HIS ARRANGEMENT THERE WOULD BE NO CAUSE FOR SUCH MARRIAGES. THE FACT THAT HE SEPARATED THE RACES SHOWS THAT HE DID NOT INTEND FOR THE RACES TO MIX.”
MILDRED
A MONTH LATER
JANUARY 1965
Judge Bazile did not change his mind.
He says Richard and I
committed a most serious crime.
We’ll be known as felons
for the rest of our lives.
Mr. Cohen reads me
the judge’s closing statement
over the phone.
I’m trying to sort it out.
God put each race of people on their own continent?
And meant them to stay there?
Didn’t Judge Bazile go to school?
Didn’t he learn that God put the Indians
on the America continent?
Cherokee? Rappahannock?
And then the white settlers arrived
and stole this land from the “red” people.
White people stole black people from the “black” continent.
Just WHO is guilty?
Didn’t that judge go to school?
RICHARD
Millie is right angry.
But the lawyers said they expected to lose.
They said the fight was not over.
They said this to us in their office.
I took up Millie’s hand and she calmed down.
All I could say to Mr. Cohen and Mr. Hirschkop was,
Sure do appreciate the job,
’cause I know they tried.
They said,
Go back to Washington for safety
while we make the appeal.
So we closed up the farmhouse,
moved back in with Alex and Laura,
upstairs in their house.
We apologized to them,
but what could we do?
RICHARD
FIVE MONTHS LATER
SUMMER 1965
One hot night Ray, Percy, and me<
br />
were working under the oak tree
at Ray’s—
put my V8 in the ’62 Ford,
painted her black,
named her Delonoa,
painted her number—
ONE.
Millie was in the house with Annamae,
the kids were at her parents’.
’Round about midnight, the girls came out,
went back inside.
One o’clock in the morning,
girls came out, went back in.
Two o’clock, girls came out again.
They went back inside.
We just weren’t done working.
I had something to say.
Finally, I said to Ray and Percy,
For the first time I live and work in the same place—
Washington, D.C.—
but years of going back and forth
between Caroline County
and Washington, D.C.—
I got more experience
driving than anyone.
We all laughed
but they said, Okay.
You drive this one.
You race in Parnassus.
So come the weekend,
I’m lined up at the start
against Brian in his red Chevy—
the man to beat.
I’m pressin’ on the gas,
my foot antsy on the clutch,
the Christmas tree, red,
blinks right down the line—
red, red, red, orange,
GREEN—
up with the clutch and I’m off,
just hangin’ on to that steering wheel,
everything rattlin’ and roarin’
YOWWWWW.
I am neck ’n’ neck
with the red Chevy,
sweating hard,
I inch ahead.
Damned if I don’t win.
I bring home the trophy—
we all been collecting plenty over time
and we divide them up—
this one’s clearly
MINE.
MILDRED
I scream alongside Annamae
on the sidelines.
Loving vs. Virginia Page 9
