PETER deLISSOVOY, '64, a white Harvard student, has been working for SNCC in Georgia since last June. In an earlier article he discussed the role of a Southern Negro gang leader in the Movement.

She had long blonde hair. Thin rings of silver trailed from her pierced cars. Almost a parody of the Northern White "Liberal," she bounced confidently and sensually over the red-clay Georgia road, her sandals flicked up small clouds of dust, her face full and bright and her eyes flashing and darting as if she were caught up in a desperate search for someone to greet. The road was lined with small gray shacks of the sort owned by whites and rented at exhorbitant prices to Negroes. As she neared a cracked old structure that had settled dangerously on its western foundation, she stopped suddenly, flipped open the notebook that she carried, entered a remark, and then looked up again in time to wave generously at a Negro who was crossing the road halfway down the block: "Hil"

He stopped wide-eyed for a moment and looked incredulously at her. Then he seemed to catch his breath, and he began walking again, very rapidly, in a very straight line, head diving for shelter beween his shoulders. She shut her book efficiently and strode to the porch of the shack, taking its three steps in a single jump. She knocked.

After a while, the door opened a crack. It opened wider.

"Ma'am?" A middled-aged Negro stood, eyes narrowed, waiting.

Good morning sir. I work with SNCC--you know, with the Albany Movement. You've heard about the election next month of course. It's an important election and we're concerned that you realize how important it is that you vote in it. Have you a moment you can spare me, a moment for discussion? And don't call me 'ma'am'.--I could be your daughter."

The man gulped. "OH NO MA' AM!--I mean yes, ma'am--I mean yes... (ma'am)." He waited.

Sales Pitch

"All these years, white politicians have been stealing our votes with false promises about what they would do for the Negro, or buying them outright." Her voice was indignant. "Now we have a black man running for office. Now we have a man we can trust. And now we must realize that our votes can have meaning--can change this city. Have you registered, sir?"

"Me, ma'am? Uh, no, ma'am. I've been 'tendin' to, honest. Only my wife, she been sick..."

"Well you can't vote if you don't register. When do you want to go down?"

"To city hall, ma'am?"

"Yes--and just call me Julie--not 'ma'am.' We want to get rid of that 'ma'am' business. That's what the struggle's about."

"Oh . . . yes."

"Well when? We'll furnish transportation."