Oddly enough, the segregationists' renewed self-confidence has made the job of Courier reporters, if anything, easier. "People are glad to talk to us," notes Lottman wryly. "They tell us exactly what they're doing."

But that has always been more or less the case. Even ardent "segs" have enjoyed an occasional tete-a-tete with a well-dressed, soft-spoken Courier reporter. (Exception: A team of reporters covering the first civil rights demonstration in Ft. Deposit, not far from Selma, were surrounded by white mobs twice; a county voting examiner smashed an ax handle through their car windshield; and five carloads of toughs followed them out of town.) A drugstore owner in Linden bought a copy of the paper from two reporters, remarking, "Course, I make up my own mind, but I've heard from people I respect--sheriffs and all--that this is a Communist newspaper."

"You think maybe there's a place for a newspaper that tires to tell both sides of the story on race questions?" he was asked.

"Maybe," he mused. "Course, you come around Linden, you might get shot."

To Courier reporters, humorous suggestions of that nature are less significant than the fact that whites are paying attention to the paper. Former Dallas County Sheriff Jim Clark once cracked, "I don't see how one goddam Red newspaper can be so yellow." Later, he said that the Courier news columns had treated him fairly during his term of office.

Courier reporters quote both remarks with a touch of pride.

For its intensely loyal readers, many of whom are all but illiterate and most of whom read nothing else, the Courier has developed a particular journalese that wavers between first-grade primer and Time Magazine