Remembering William Winter: Mississippi governor championed public training and civil rights

Editor’s Note: William Winter, Mississippi Governor from 1980-84, died December 18.

On William Winter’s last day as governor of Mississippi, I was a 6 year old first grader at Eastlawn Elementary School in Pascagoula. I had been to the headmaster’s office earlier in the school year because I had kicked a kid much taller than me who I believed cost us a trip to the water fountain. I liked spelling but didn’t show much promise as a student. It wasn’t until my history class in Mississippi in ninth grade that I learned about the 58th governor of the state, and later I learned that his 1982 Education Reform Act was the reason I had to attend Eastlawn in 1984.

Governor William Winter with Mississippi SPLC Political Director Brandon Jones.

States have many governors. Occasionally you get someone who doesn’t set the street program on fire. In the south we consider ourselves lucky if ours doesn’t threaten secession during her inaugural address. Most of these people (in Mississippi they were all men) are soon forgotten or, if not, remembered only for some colossal embarrassment or the criminal investigation they leave behind. William Winter was different. He was temperate and thoughtful. Not only did he read books, he wrote books, some of them, and they were good. His approach to education was in stark contrast to the obstructionists who fought Brown against Board of Education for decades. In addition to providing good public education for all Mississippians, Governor Winter wanted to expand it. He fought for the establishment of a public kindergarten system so that all children have access to critical early education.

He knew how to fight like a soldier because he was one. A veteran of two wars, Winter ran for the House of Representatives when he was a law student. Two terms later, he called on Walter Sillers, widely regarded as the most racist political leader in Mississippi history, as speaker of the house. He fell short in this race, as in many other races, but the fact that he persuaded 39 other members of the House of Representatives to vote for him and against Sillers, a man who would hold the speaker’s gavel for 22 years, could be his greatest notable political achievement. Winter left home to become a state tax collector, a job that pays well and gives him a nationwide platform. After filling the role, he found that it violated his sense of good government and successfully led efforts to get rid of the post.

We often think of people who are efficient and upright as boring. William Winter wasn’t boring. His life was rich and interesting. You could (and should) spend hours reading the story of the Education Reform Act of 1982, in which Winter and his staff gathered Mississippi in support of an integrated and functioning public school system, culminating in a high-stakes special session. But many of us who love him and consider him one of the finest examples of public service in our country did not meet him until long after he left political office.

William Winter didn’t just stay here. He made it his business to know the people behind the positive movement in Mississippi. He went to see these people and freely gave advice and advice to anyone who had half an idea to help Mississippi keep its promise. He maintained a national profile that matched his talent and performance (President’s Advisory Board on Race, Profile in Courage Award), but it’s those coffees at the elite and the lunches at the Mayflower that many of us introduced to the man which would encourage us to ask more about our state. I am one of many lucky people under my age who learned the most important things we know about Mississippi politics from the best teacher and mentor we could ever ask for.

Governor Winter came abruptly into my life when I was a new member of the House, fresh from a speaker’s battle. We were preparing to debate a raise for the legislature when I was invited to “Lunch with Governor Winter” by Representative Diane Peranich. When we got into his car (drove winter) he spent a few minutes in general politeness before telling me I was going to make a big mistake. While the first increase in legislative wages since World War II could lure a higher class of lawmakers to Jackson, he warned “not your struggle”. With our education and mental health programs balanced, this wasn’t the hill to die on. He was right. I voted as he suggested and Mississippi’s lawmakers remained underpaid. I still don’t know how he imagined, how I would vote, or why he chose me for this lesson, but I’ll spend the rest of my life being grateful that he did. This was the first of many lunches, cups of coffee, and walks down Capitol Street, each a treasure.

There is something wonderful about William Winter living when Mississippi removes the Confederate Battle Flag canton from its state flag. Out of a love of history and a desire to break down racism, Winter devoted most of his chosen life to reintroducing Mississippi into himself and asked for some things to be reconsidered. Through the Department of Archives and History, a government agency in the William F. Winter Archives and History Building, Winter helped envision a steadfast educational center and the only state-funded civil rights museum in the heart of what was formerly Jim Crow South. This dream of his, which came true in 2017, was a formidable achievement and an indication that Mississippi might be ready to reckon with part of his past. But the challenges remain and the old flag stayed. Leading the failed nationwide referendum to change the Mississippi flag in 2001, Winter knew how difficult it would be to remove racism from the symbol of our state. He openly wondered if it was possible.

Mississippi changed its flag in 2020, and Governor Winter and his wife Elise were two of thousands of Mississippi who voted. I know because I was there. The Winters took every precaution to avoid contracting with COVID-19 and requested postal voting. For reasons confusing historians, attorneys, and former governors, Mississippi is demanding that absent voters use notaries so that both their applications and their ballots can be forgotten. A friend and colleague of mine, Treshika Melvin, and I met the Winters, a few family members, and a nurse in their house to help the Winters vote. In a secure process that never got us within 30 meters of the winters, Treshika certified the winters’ ballots. It was an honor to see Governor Winter accomplish yet another act of love and service for his beloved Mississippi.

It strikes me that we lost Governor Winter at a time when we need what he had more than ever. If heads of state go against science and ignite the flames of discord, we could use thoughtful leaders like William Winter. It’s a thought that occurred to everyone who knew it. We owe it to each other to provide his basic care for all people, especially the children in real and virtual classrooms across the state who don’t even know who their governor is, let alone those who opened the schoolhouse doors do you have.

Brandon Jones is the Policy Director in the SPLC’s Jackson, Mississippi office.

Main photo by Barbara Gauntt via Imagn Content Services