Former Virginia Gov. A. Linwood Holton reads to students at Linwood Holton Elementary School on Laburnum Avenue in 2000. His granddaughter Annella Kaine sits on his right knee. (Photo courtesy Carol A.O. Wolf)
Virginia's 61st governor, A. Linwood Holton, was a hero’s hero. Think Jimmy Stewart in “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington,” with as much grit and even more gumption.
After Holton’s death at age 98 on Oct. 28, scores of obituaries and accolades from as far away as Australia praised his crusade to end racial discrimination and integrate Virginia schools.
Holton used his 1970 inaugural address to declare an end to Massive Resistance, the state’s hidebound refusal to abide by the 1954 U.S. Supreme Court decision that banned segregation in public education. “The era of defiance is behind us,” Holton declared. "Let our goal in Virginia be an aristocracy of ability, regardless of race, color or creed.”
Credited with breaking the back of the Byrd machine that had dominated Virginia politics for most of the 20th century, Holton helped transform politics in Virginia to a two-party system. He also helped clean up Virginia’s polluted waterways, created a unified port authority in Hampton Roads and expanded mental health services.
But there was more to the man than historic headlines and bullet points on a resume. Whether he was reading books to children at the Richmond public elementary school that bears his name, talking with parents and teachers, or lobbying in the halls of government, Holton impressed people as a keenly intelligent and kind man, a wonderful raconteur and, most especially, a good listener.
“He was very involved in our school,” says David Hudson, a former principal at Linwood Holton Elementary School on Laburnum Avenue. "He was a warm and down-to-earth person who was always so positive and always had funny stories to share. He was always very respectful to the children, and they were respectful of him."
Kimberly B. Gray, a former Holton parent and former member of the Richmond School Board and City Council, recalls being with Holton at several school functions and on the campaign trail. “His love of people and politics was always present,” she says. “Black, white, child, adult. He was a true public servant.”
She recalls hearing him ask a cafeteria crowded with children how many of them were good spellers. “Several hands shot up,” Gray says. “He then asked how many were ‘not so good’ at spelling. When a few kids sheepishly raised their hands, a big smile broke out on his face, and he said he had to confess that he was terrible speller. The kids all burst out laughing. Holton then told them to keep working hard at it and that he was proof that there is hope. 'Just look at me.' ”
Among Holton’s first acts as governor were to issue an executive order banning discrimination in state employment and to name several Black officials as agency heads and advisors.
Bob Holsworth, a longtime political analyst, says Holton had two major accomplishments that were crucial to Virginia’s emergence as a prosperous contemporary state. He says, “Holton's introduction of Virginia’s first official cabinet established the foundation for Virginia being regularly recognized as one of the best managed states in the nation,” adding that Holton’s "iconic break with the majority of Southern states on race relations enabled the commonwealth to shed its reputation as a ‘political museum piece’ and become a first-tier participant in the modern economy."
Viola Baskerville credits him with making it possible for her to attend —and to have a positive experience at — the College of William & Mary.
A former Richmond City Council member, vice mayor, member of the Virginia House of Delegates, secretary of administration for Gov. Tim Kaine (Holton’s son-in-law, now a Democratic U.S. senator representing Virginia) and CEO of the Girls Scouts of Virginia, Baskerville recalls when she realized that Holton was serious about desegregating Virginia’s institutions of higher learning.
“When I arrived on the campus of William & Mary in the fall of 1969, the president at the time was Y. David Paschall,” she says. “Virginia was under a court order to desegregate; however, I’m certain President Paschall was not enthralled. Shortly, after Holton became governor in 1970, President Paschall retired. I can’t help but think that Holton took action to effect change in the college’s leadership, to make life on campus easier for William & Mary’s early Black students in the midst of breaking color barriers. He walked the walk.”
In remarks on the U.S. Senate floor in November urging colleagues to pass the John Lewis Voting Rights Advancement Act, Sen. Kaine praised his late father-in-law’s civil rights legacy. Kaine reminded his colleagues that it wasn’t until 1971 that Virginia finally eliminated the poll tax.
“Linwood Holton’s life is proof that one person from a tiny town (population 5,132) in Wise County, Virginia — Big Stone Gap — can live a principled life dedicated to making the world a better place, Kaine said. "He was my friend, my mentor and a role model.” Kaine ticked off highlights of Holton’s career: Upon graduating from Washington & Lee University, he entered the officer candidate program of the U.S. Navy and served in the submarine service. After the war, he went to Harvard Law School and later moved to Roanoke, where he met his wife, Virginia “Jinks” Rogers, the daughter of a leading Democratic figure there.
Holton opened a law office in Roanoke, and he and Jinks had four children: Tayloe, Anne, Woody and Dwight. He worked for nearly 20 years to build a Republican party that could challenge Harry F. Byrd and his ultra-conservative, segregationist political machine. He lost his first three elections, but in 1970 Holton was elected the first Republican governor of Virginia since Reconstruction ended more than 80 years earlier.
In the first year of his term as governor, Holton and his family faced a threshold question: Would they choose to obey a court order issued by U.S. District Court Judge Robert R. Merhige Jr. that schools in the city of Richmond and Chesterfield and Henrico counties be merged — and students bused if necessary — to achieve desegregation?
Rather than send their children to a private school, or stand in the schoolhouse door like Alabama Gov. George C. Wallace and crow, “Segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever,” Holton and his family chose to let their children walk through the front doors of mostly Black schools and take a seat.
By taking this action, Holton and daughter Tayloe walked onto the front page of The New York Times, a photo picturing them with their heads held high, smiles firmly affixed, obeying Merhige’s court order.
Holton and his family were regarded as heroes by many and ostracized as pariahs by many more. In a 2016 interview with CNN when Kaine was Hillary Clinton’s vice presidential running mate, Holton was asked what he was feeling that memorable morning. His answer: “Joy ... the kind of joy that comes from doing the right thing.”
Judge Merhige’s son, Mark, only 11 years old at the time, recalls that his father always spoke of Holton and NAACP attorney Oliver W. Hill as heroes who demonstrated great courage. “They all wanted the same thing,” he says. “They wanted to make life better for all children and to give all children an equal shot at success in life.”
Longtime political strategist and consultant Paul Goldman affirms Mark Merhige’s view. ”Linwood Holton will be remembered as the first governor committed to leading the state out of the shadow of states' rights and into the sunlight of civil rights. He was punished by contemporaries for his efforts, but future generations will increasingly praise him.”
Holton lived long enough to see society’s views of segregation and racism begin to change. He saw former Gov. and U.S. Sen. Harry F. Byrd’s statue removed from Capitol Square, and he received praise from J. Harvie Wilkinson III, a judge on the Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals. In his book “From Brown to Bakke,” Wilkinson writes that, “Holton himself performed the single most courageous act in the politics of busing to achieve desegregation.” He also quotes the late former Virginia Gov. Colgate Darden, who called Holton’s act “the most significant happening in this commonwealth during my lifetime.”
Raymond Boone, the late editor of the Richmond Afro-American (now the Richmond Free Press), said of Holton’s achievements, “for once the government stood for justice. For once, we felt we were being counted in, not out. For once, we felt we were a part of the whole.”
In “The Color of their Skin: a history of Richmond Public Schools from 1954 to 1989,” author Robert Pratt notes that, at a minimum, Holton’s stand cost him a nomination to the U.S. Senate.
"Although I respect the United States Senate as a great institution, I have no regrets whatsoever about the decisions I made concerning school integration,” Holton said, “even if it cost me the Senate. If I had a chance to do it all over again, I would do it stronger. … a career in the Senate, no matter how distinguished it might have been, could not possibly have brought me the gratification I received from just one comment made by an old Black man while I was touring Southside Virginia. Something made me speak to that old gentleman. He was bowed and appeared to be really old, so I leaned over to hear what he wanted to tell me. And in a soft dignified voice I will never forget, he said, ‘First governor of all the people.’ Nobody has ever topped that one.”
A service of worship in memory of Linwood Holton will be held on Sunday, Dec. 19, at 2 p.m. at Second Presbyterian Church, 5 N. Fifth St. All guests must be fully vaccinated and wear masks. The service will also be available via livestream (and recorded).
Carol A.O. Wolf and her husband, Tom Wolf, are godparents to Linwood Holton’s grandson, Nathaniel Kaine. Her husband is a former law partner of Holton’s son-in-law, Tim Kaine, and of Holton.
