- The following program
- Vel Phillips:
Dream Big Dreams
is funded in part by the
Greater Milwaukee Foundation,
Harvey E. and
Harriet V. Vick Fund,
Helen Bader Foundation,
Evjue Foundation,
the charitable arm
of the Capital Times,
Wisconsin Humanities Council
with funds from
the National Endowment
for the Humanities,
Brewers Community Foundation,
Milwaukee Chapter
of The Links Incorporated,
and Friends of
Wisconsin Public Television.
[dramatic music]
>> On an overcast day
in August 1967
200 men, women, and children
marched across
the 16th Street Viaduct
in Milwaukee.
[shouting]
On the other side of the bridge,
thousands of white residents
were waiting.
*
They shouted racist taunts,
hurled firecrackers, rocks,
and bodily fluids.
Although they were battered
and scared, the activists
marched again the next night
and the next
and the next.
The marchers demanded what
they believed was a basic right:
the freedom to live in any
neighborhood regardless of
the color of your skin.
They called it Open Housing.
The public struggle for
Open Housing in Milwaukee
had started five years earlier,
when one woman decided it was
time for a change.
>> You are aware gentlemen
that the eyes of nation,
indeed, the eyes of the world,
are upon Milwaukee.
>> Her name was Vel Phillips.
>> It was like,
this is my work.
>> She did things that were
unheard of for her time.
>> Vel Phillips was the first
African American woman to
graduate from
the University of Wisconsin
Law School.
The first African American
and first female alderman
in Milwaukee.
The first African American judge
in Wisconsin.
The first African American
and first female to be elected
to statewide executive office
in Wisconsin
or anywhere
in the United States.
>> This is huge.
It's just remarkable.
She surprised a lot of people.
>> But for a time, Phillips
nearly lost everything that
she had worked a lifetime
to achieve.
>> Big mistake.
It was not a wise thing to do.
>> Vel Phillips combined
a fierce commitment
to her principles
with an aristocratic grace.
And in the end,
she forced her city
and her country
to come closer to the ideals
that motivated her life.
>> When we measure it all up
at the end of the day,
Vel Phillips is a great hero.
>> My mother would always
tell us, "If you really want it,
don't dream small dreams,
dream big dreams."
Well, my name is Vel Phillips.
And V-E-L is short for Velvalea.
I was named after my aunt
in Milwaukee, Wisconsin
many years ago.
>> Velvalea Hartence Rodgers
was born on February 18th, 1924
into Milwaukee's small
but growing African American
community.
She was the middle of three
sisters and the daughter
of Thelma and Russell Rodgers.
>> My father was very gifted.
He also was a splendid cook and
we had a restaurant for years.
>> They're fiercely proud
of who they are
as African Americans and
knowledgeable of
African American history
in a time where those things
are not taught.
>> My father was a quiet,
strong person.
He had to be strong to put up
with my mother who was strong.
>> Vel's mother, Thelma, had
three rules for her daughters.
>> She wanted us to be ladies.
We couldn't smoke, we couldn't
drink, we couldn't talk loud.
But she wanted us to be smart.
>> As a high school student,
Vel entered a national
speaking contest and won.
Her performance got her
a scholarship to the university
of her choice.
She chose Howard University,
the historically black college
in Washington, D.C.
>> We had always lived
in neighborhoods where there
weren't many blacks
and I was kind of proud
of my heritage
and I figured that
they would all be blacks
and all these wonderful,
outstanding people.
Well, I was just enamored
with everything about college.
I felt like I owned the world.
>> But in 1943, Washington D.C.
was still racially segregated.
>> A friend of mine said,
let's go to the Cherry Blossoms.
So we went on this Sunday and
it's just, oh, if you never
been there, there's nothing
to compare.
And you just feel ethereal,
just magical, and close to God.
And so we said, "Well, let's go
to church."
The two of us went into
this church and I'll never
forget the minister stopped
mid-sentence
and asked the ushers to
usher us out of the church.
>> And then they're
escorted out,
which is crushing to her.
That's a white church.
Here in the nation's capital?
The betrayal of those core
American values that every kid
gets instilled in them
growing up in America,
black or white.
>> I just thought,
this is not as it should be.
And that just sort of
lit a fire, you know?
>> After graduating from Howard,
Vel returned home to Milwaukee
and began volunteering
at the local branch
of the National Association
for the Advancement of
Colored People,
the NAACP.
One night at a party,
she met a World War II veteran
named Dale Phillips.
>> I was very attracted to him,
because he seemed to be
a little streetwise,
and I didn't know much.
>> My daddy was a runaround guy.
He had a lot of buddies
and they loved to party.
>> And he came up to me and
said, "Gee, what's your name?"
I told him right away.
And so he brought out a big
thing of liquor.
>> Vel remembered her mother's
three rules.
>> And I thought right then,
uh oh!
What should I do?
I don't want to be naive
and stuff.
I just said no thank you.
Then he took out his cigarettes.
I thought, oh God!
I had to refuse again.
He'll never see me.
When I refused the liquor
and the cigarettes,
I guess he decided,
"This is it; this is the woman
who I'm going to marry."
>> I think when he saw my mom
he saw "the one."
So he reigned in all of
his rascalness.
>> When I came home after just
seeing him for the first time
and said, "I met a young
man, Mom, at the party,
and I was just drawn to him.
If I got to know him,
and he asked me to marry him,
I'd marry him."
She sat right up, she was
fanning, "What do you mean?
You just saw him one time!
Oh, Lord Jesus help me."
>> They had a very brief
courtship.
I think after three or four
dates that he popped
the question.
>> On September 12, 1948,
Dale and Vel were married
at St. Mark's AME church
in Milwaukee.
Soon, the newlyweds moved
to Madison to attend
the University of Wisconsin
Law School.
>> The NAACP's belief in
that period, late forties,
early fifties is that the legal
route is the way to go.
We need more lawyers.
>> I was very excited.
It was just a wonderful
place to be.
>> They were assigned to
a University housing facility
recently created for returning
G.I.s and their families,
a group of pre-fabricated
trailers called Badger Village.
>> I was so looking forward to
going to Badger Village.
It would be the first time
we would be by ourselves.
>> We went out to look at what
it would be like,
but people saw us.
>> One of their friends who's
wife is at a party
and what he hears at the party
is, "Did you hear?
The niggers are moving in."
So they put together a petition.
>> And they passed off
this petition saying,
we don't want any blacks
in Badger Village.
And you have no idea
how that affected me.
That was quite a shattering
experience and it spoiled it
for me.
>> Badger Village residents
shared a central communal
bathroom.
>> So I said to my husband,
"When you go to the bathroom,
do you go to the same toilet?"
Because I found them talking
once, and one said to the other,
"She always uses that toilet,
so don't go in there."
So I said, "Don't use the same
one, just change it all around.
You know, don't go to the same
one all the time."
That's when my husband said,
"We gotta get out of here."
>> My father was a veteran
from World War II.
It was a segregated military
at the time.
He was a bit more street smart.
>> He's worried about
the threat.
In many places petition goes
to violence very quickly.
So whites will try to intimidate
you or have a petition and that
escalates to something on your
lawn, which escalates ultimately
to the potential of violence.
>> Dale found university housing
closer to campus,
also in prefabricated trailers,
but more welcoming
to African Americans.
And together, Dale and
Vel Phillips became the first
African American couple
to graduate from
the University of Wisconsin
Law School.
>> I was the first black woman
to graduate from the law school.
I just thought that was
the biggest thing that could
happen to me.
>> After graduation, they
returned to Milwaukee where they
opened up their law office,
Phillips and Phillips, and were
ready to start a family.
>> We'd been trying and trying
and trying.
>> They had had a lot of
difficulty.
They wanted a family,
and they'd almost given up.
>> Life for the young couple
was busy.
In addition to practicing law,
Vel Phillips volunteered
in her community.
She joined the League of Women
Voters to register her neighbors
to vote, and also went
door-to-door in the nearby
neighborhood of Bronzeville.
>> I had never seen
that kind of poverty.
They would have the oven on
and the door open.
That was the heat.
The rest of the house would
be cold.
And then children would be
running around,
and I thought that was
dangerous , really.
>> What she saw, when you get
behind the doors,
the broken down plumbing,
the walls coming down,
the ceilings coming down,
the conditions.
>> White supremacy dictates
that white people are better
and you see that in material
circumstances.
This is why physical space
is really important,
whether it's marking separate
schools or train cars
and things.
They're not just separate,
but they're inferior.
>> The houses might have been
in disrepair, but the people
weren't in disrepair.
They were good people.
And they might have been poor,
but they were human beings.
>> These people are working,
these people are
paying taxes.
It's good old taxation
without representation.
>> The latest census had
revealed a surge in Milwaukee's
African American population.
With it, a new ward was created
and the possibility of
an African American alderman
on the all-white,
all-male Common Council.
>> The Common Council in
Milwaukee is a very powerful
city council.
>> And even when you are not
able to carry the day on
a legislative measure,
you have a vocal platform,
you're quoted in the paper,
so you can put black experience,
black interest out there.
You can be on record, too.
That was just not possible
before.
>> 1956 would be the first
election to include
the new ward.
>> Doyle Geter, who worked for
the Journal,
I called him and I said,
"Doyle, how many women had been
on the council?"
He said, "Oh, you're thinking
about running?"
And I said, "Yes."
He said, "Oh, Vel,
I wouldn't do it.
You just wouldn't fit,
you're just too dainty.
A lot of men,
they smoke and drink."
I said, "Well, I don't have
to drink to be a good
city council person."
>> The new 2nd Ward included
both black and white
neighborhoods.
>> Realistically, I think even
if you got every
African American adult over 21,
was the age then, to vote,
it wouldn't have been enough.
You're going to need some
white votes.
>> Phillips decided that if she
wanted to get elected,
she would have to hide
that she was black,
and that she was a woman.
Campaign literature listed her
as "Vel" instead of her
given name, Velvalea.
And in the white areas of the
2nd Ward, Phillips made sure
that the campaign literature
included no photos of her.
>> I mean, I see it as just
a savvy, political and
strategic decision to win.
>> To help get her name out,
she turned to Milwaukee's
white liberals.
>> Vel didn't have that
artificial barrier in her head
between blacks and whites.
She was just able to get along
with everybody.
That was such an admirable
characteristic of hers.
>> Her district was half white
and half black.
I was given the white district
and her little card had her name
and her background.
But in the black district,
the cards had her picture.
And so I was passing out cards
in the white area and some guy
said, "How come you don't have
her picture on this card?"
I said, "Well, we have many
different kinds of literature."
[laughter]
>> One morning during
the campaign, Vel got
a phone call from her doctor.
>> The doctor called me and
said I had to come back.
I said, "Oh, I'm too busy.
Why don't we wait until after
the election?"
The doctor said that, "It's very
important that you come in."
I told that to my mother and
she started crying.
"It's the big C."
So when I went in to the doctor
I was then convinced it was
cancer, so I stood up.
He said, "Sit down,
Mrs. Phillips."
I said, "No.
When I'm getting bad news,
I like to stand up."
He said, "Do you know
how to knit?"
I said, "What does that have
to do with anything?"
He said, "Because you're
pregnant."
"You've got to be kidding!"
>> Stunned, Phillips walked back
into the waiting room to Dale.
>> I said,
"Honey, I'm pregnant."
He says, "Hug me.
Oh, my God, baby,
what wonderful news!"
But I was almost in tears,
because I said,
"Now I'll never win."
I was so thrilled that
I was pregnant, but I was
afraid that it would cost me
the election.
And that really frightened me.
>> You're talking,
the mid-1950s.
Maybe you finally convince them
to vote for you as a woman
and as an African American,
but you as a mother?
>> Phillips decided to conceal
her pregnancy until after
the election.
>> Right away I started wearing
stuff that would hide it.
You know the artists wear
those kind of coats?
I bought some of those
and nobody knew I was pregnant.
And I would come home
and I would just be worn out.
My husband would rub my feet.
"Oh, honey, you're doing
a wonderful job."
>> Still campaigning
on Election Day, the Phillips'
offered to drive fellow
residents to the polls.
Vel asked one white couple whom
they were planning to vote for.
>> The woman said,
"We're voting for Vel Phillips."
And the man said, "Yes, we think
he's very qualified.
We think he's a very good
candidate."
I stopped like that, and my
husband said, "Oh, good.
We think he's great.
You're voting for
the right person."
[laughter]
>> On April 3rd, 1956,
Vel Phillips was elected as
Milwaukee's first female and
first African American alderman.
>> Milwaukee was incorporated
in 1846 and this was 1956.
So it took 110 years.
And when I won,
the reporter talked to me.
She said, "How does it feel
to be the first woman
on the city council?"
I said, "Being on the council
is a wonderful thing,
but I have something even
more important and more
meaningful for me,
because I'm with child.
They won't get just a woman,
they'll get a woman and a half."
What do we call her?
They had a big story about that
in the paper.
I said, "Oh, my God."
And they decided that
I should be addressed as
"Madame Alderman."
They hardly ever did it,
number one, and I was glad!
I just wanted be an alder man.
>> Phillips went to work
at City Hall, but her excitement
over her historic win
was quickly tempered.
>> She was treated like a dog
by her co-aldermen.
>> Phillips was urged by
fellow Council members to join
the Aldermen's Wives Club.
>> I went to the Alderman's
Wives, the first meeting.
They just talked about baby
formula and stuff like that.
It was just unbelievable.
>> Milwaukee aldermen were
required to share offices.
Council chairmen
Martin Schreiber
called Phillips in to talk.
>> And then I caught it
right away.
I said, "And no one wants
to be with me."
Well, you can tell I wasn't
that ugly.
He said, "They're afraid to be
with you because you are
a woman and you're black."
I said, "I want my own office.
Just put me by myself.
If they don't want to be
with me, I sure as hell
don't want to be with them."
But I talked real big about it
but it hurt me really
deep down.
I just thought, why did I even
try this?
There were many nights when
I would let my husband know
that I cried myself to sleep.
>> When she's treated this way
right in front of the whole
city, you bet she wasn't
involved in the back room
discussions.
The business is done
in the back rooms,
and she was not.
>> Dale was worried
about his wife,
and her career.
>> We must have some policy
about what happens here in
the Common Council chambers.
I think that students coming
down--
I was gonna be on television,
and I was excited because
I had never been
on the television before.
So soon as I got home I called
my husband, "Did you watch it?"
First thing he said,
"It was not a pretty picture.
You interrupted Schreiber
three times,
you interrupted Mortier.
They just didn't know how to
handle it, at all.
And you took full advantage."
[laughter]
But let me tell you,
it never happened again.
I changed.
Talk less and do more.
>> Dale was always there
to call it as it was.
Just an understanding
of how things worked,
a knowledge of
the political animal.
>> A brilliant strategist.
Brilliant in knowing when
to push just this much
and not that much more.
>> Vel is energetic and
sometimes going in several
directions at once,
so to have that counterbalance,
that council that encourages
reflection or to take a moment
to pause.
There's no doubt that he was
central to her political career
and to her rise and
her achievement, her success.
>> So she's figuring out,
she's spending her time
as a good lawyer, reading
the rules, how things are done.
>> I think I was a quiet force.
>> National political leaders
began to notice
Phillips' talents.
In 1958, she was elected to the
Democratic National Committee.
No black woman had ever served
on the committee before.
>> This is the executive
committee that runs the party
nationally, and she's the first
African American woman.
It's just remarkable.
>> By 1960, the Democratic
party is inching its way
towards Civil Rights.
>> The battle for civil rights
was becoming a national focus.
Earlier that year,
college students had staged
sit-ins to desegregate
lunch counters.
Americans watched as
the activists were beaten
and arrested.
>> Televisions are in almost
every American home.
We start to see people sitting
at a lunch counter
and just asking to be served.
We weren't supposed
to be like that.
>> By 1960 the movement is in
full swing, and it's becoming
an increasing problem for those
in power and for the nation.
[crowd roars]
>> The 1960 presidential
election was underway.
Phillips went to Los Angeles
for the Democratic
National Convention,
where the party was to nominate
Massachusetts senator,
John F. Kennedy
as its candidate.
>> Kennedy himself said,
"We've got to get a black face
out there."
She was the face of:
"We are going for
the African American vote."
>> Northern liberals at
the Democratic National
Convention demanded a strong
civil rights plank.
>> Kennedy's in a political
party that is dominated
by Southern, white Democrats
who are segregationists,
and this is the split
in the party.
>> --that what you're doing is,
in our judgement, making it
practically impossible to carry
ten states of the Southland in
the election of November.
>> Senator Spessard Holland,
a segregationist from Florida,
warned that taking the party
too far towards civil rights
would doom the Democrats' chance
at winning the White House.
>> And Democrats, whether
you're segregation or not,
you want your party
to win the presidency
'cause it's power.
>> Phillips shot back at
the Senator and declared,
"Winning isn't nearly
so important as doing
the right thing."
>> She surprised a lot of people
that made some people
step back and go, whoa!
That tiny little woman
just said that?
She just did that?
Yes, she did.
Yes, you betcha.
>> Two days later
the Democratic Party adopted
a platform fully committed
to civil rights.
>> I just felt that this
was what was due us
and God had seen to it
that I was there to do my part.
>> Ask not what your country can
do for you, ask what you can do
for your country.
[cheers and applause]
>> I think there is something
in my mom that was perfect
for her time.
Isn't it what they say is true,
that it's the times that make
that person?
Just the right personality
for the moment.
>> When Vel Phillips returned
to Milwaukee, she focused her
energy on her city's own
civil right issues.
>> It was pretty bad
in Milwaukee.
Milwaukee was considered one of
the more segregated cities
in the whole United States.
>> We had problems
that we had to solve
and we had to do it right
and we had to do it
the right way.
>> Housing segregation kept
Milwaukee's growing
African American community
confined inside the center city
known as the Inner Core.
African American residents
were barred from buying homes
in the city's more prosperous
neighborhoods and suburbs.
>> We tried to move.
You know, I had been told
flat out, several times,
"Oh, you can't buy a house
in that area
because you're a Negro."
>> You can concede desegregation
in these public spheres,
work, school.
But your home and
the neighborhood around that,
that's where a lot of
white folks draw the line.
>> I remember when the first
black family moved
into Wauwatosa.
There was a cross burned
on the lawn.
>> Segregation is such
an insidious affair.
These are the things that
strike you every day, right?
It's the things that assault
your senses.
>> As an alderman, Phillips
was in a position to devise
an Open Housing ordinance
to combat Milwaukee's
segregation policies.
But she knew that the chance
of it passing would be remote.
>> She represents women, she
represents African Americans.
The community doesn't have
the wealth, the power,
the access, the media,
to have voice, to push back,
to get a fair hearing.
And she's the only person
in that formal position.
>> What's the right thing to do?
That was really her focus.
>> And I could see
how segregated we were.
It just wasn't the way
it should be.
>> In 1962, Phillips submitted
to the Milwaukee Common Council
a landmark ordinance.
"It is to be the policy of
the City of Milwaukee to assure
equal opportunity to all persons
to live in decent
housing facilities
regardless of race, color,
or national origin."
>> She introduced
the Fair Housing law
and got one vote,
hers.
>> Over five years, Phillips
introduced her Open Housing
ordinance with the same result.
>> The committee has chosen,
as it has done previously
to reject the ordinance
unanimously.
With that--
>> I wanted to cry, really,
but I thought
that would not work.
I was the alderman.
>> At the same time,
her constituents
fought other battles,
against job discrimination,
segregated schools,
and whites-only clubs.
But housing discrimination
was at the top of their list.
Five years of trying to pass
Open Housing bills in
the Common Council had failed,
and in 1967, Vel Phillips'
constituents looked for
another strategy.
[shouts and cheers]
>> And so we said, let's go
to the belly of the beast.
That's when the issue
really blew up.
[dramatic music]
>> In August 1967,
200 activists marched across the
16th Street Viaduct in Milwaukee
demanding the right to live
in any neighborhood in the city.
Among them
the NAACP Youth Council,
Father James Groppi,
a Catholic priest,
and the Commandos,
a self-defense group
from the Inner Core.
>> You march across that bridge
and on the opposite side
there is a mass of white people,
angry white people,
letting you know that you're
in the wrong part of town at
the wrong time of day.
>> Residents hurled bricks,
bodily fluids, and racial slurs.
>> The size of the crowds
is mind blowing.
And it's just so vicious
and violent and ugly.
It's hard to minimize it.
>> Police began throwing
tear gas and creating dense
plumes of smoke.
It was just mayhem
and pandemonium.
At that point,
I thought to myself,
this is absolutely nuts.
[sirens]
>> Vel Phillips was not among
the marchers.
She watched the confrontation
from home on the nightly news.
>> It was stunning.
It was horrible.
>> The next day,
Milwaukee mayor, Henry Maier
tried to restore order.
>> And I urge those who live in
the area of march
to please stay off the streets.
>> I came home from city hall
and I just sat down and
I just had a good cry.
>> Vel needed the marchers.
She needed coverage
to put pressure
on the Common Council
to pass an ordinance.
>> With the ban on marches
in place, Phillips was back to
where she began in 1962.
>> We were so disillusioned.
>> She joined Father Groppi
and other Open Housing activists
for a rally
at St. Boniface Parish.
>> This was a large church,
it probably sat 1,000 people.
And it was packed,
standing room only.
>> Speaking to the crowd,
Father Groppi asked if they
were ready to march.
The crowd shouted its approval.
[whistles, cheers and applause]
But Phillips hesitated.
She was a lawyer
and an officer of the court.
If she marched in the face
of the ban, she would be
in full defiance of the law.
>> Now, the line has been drawn.
You either have to be
this side and support them,
or you're not.
And it's very, very violent
out there in the streets.
And being in her position of
power, she's this official
member of the Common Council,
she's a part of the middle class
black leadership, it would have
been easy for her to not go down
into the street.
It would have been defended
and justified by a whole lot
of powerful people.
>> But I was fed up
at that time.
>> Despite the fear
and despite the counsel
from some very close to her,
she makes a different choice.
Which shows that she has gone
to a very different place
than many other black
middle class leaders have.
>> Because it was for my
fair housing,
I felt nothing was going to
stop us.
>> Vel Phillips, Father Groppi,
and the rest of the crowd
defied the mayor's edict
and took to the street.
>> The decision was made
to march.
St. Boniface was
on 11th and Clark.
We got as far as 9th and
North Avenue, so that's about
six blocks.
And the police closed in
and started to arrest people.
Vel Phillips was one of
the first arrested.
>> And they treated you
like you weren't a real person.
Feeling all over you when
they patted you down.
It was just demoralizing.
>> Phillips was released
the next morning, but her
mother, Thelma, was not happy
with her daughter's jail time.
>> Oh, gosh!
She was embarrassed.
"What will I tell my friends?"
I said, "Mom, just tell your
friends that your daughter
is doing what she thinks is best
in her capacity as a member of
the Milwaukee Common Council."
>> She marched again that night.
>> I think that's when she got
a reputation for being
very brave, and tough.
>> The white community became
increasingly violent.
>> For the most part,
there was a backlash.
"How dare they do this
to our city."
>> Everyone in official power
starts to say,
"This is not acceptable.
We can't have this."
They're forced into that
position because these images
are going, not just in Milwaukee
but they're going
across the country.
It's an embarrassment
to the city.
>> The idea among a lot of
young people, myself included,
was we're going to make
the world better.
[laughter]
>> It was a close-knit feeling.
We all looked after each other.
>> If you look at the pictures
of the time and the look on
her face, you can see a sense
of belonging.
>> She had fought this lonely
crusade for a long time
and there was something that
was welcome to her.
There's a sense of connectivity,
a sense of being a part
of the struggle.
>> I was trying to figure out
how I really felt.
It was like, this is my work.
>> In September, after two weeks
of daily marches,
the Common Council
again voted 18-1 against
the Open Housing ordinance.
Phillips had run out
of patience.
>> It's quite apparent
to me that the members
of this honorable body,
to put it in the terms of
my Commando friends,
these cats are just too dumb,
just too dumb to know when they
have something going for them.
It's bad enough to have to deal
with a bigot,
but when you got a dumb bigot--
[cheers]
>> While Vel Phillips remained
on the front lines
of the housing protests,
her husband Dale
kept the home running,
cooking, cleaning,
and raising their two boys.
>> My father, in some ways,
was an early Mr. Mom.
>> He always did floors,
whatever cooking,
whatever was necessary.
He wasn't hung up on "roles."
He was just a solid Midwest guy.
>> He was very secure.
He was a good lawyer.
He didn't feel that
he was competing.
He knew that I loved
what I was doing
and he wanted me to be happy.
>> They're, I think, truly
a team in a real sense.
A lot of these teams,
the man is the person of power
and it's the supportive woman,
you know, Coretta King
or Malcolm X's wife.
And here we have the woman
being the one who's out front
and achieving the power
and the position and things
with a very supportive husband.
>> The growing media exposure
brought unwanted attention
to Vel's home.
There were phone calls.
>> This man, he would call
and say, "I'm watching you.
I think black people like
yourself should go back
to Africa were you came from."
It was scary, you know,
and I wondered if we should
get some guards or something.
>> She received
hate-filled letters.
>> This letter said, "P.S.
If you see a brown streaks
that's because I used this
for toilet paper before
I sent it to you."
I had it in my hand,
and I just dropped it like that.
>> Then a shot was fired
into her kitchen.
>> The bullet landed right
in the middle of the oven door.
>> When a bullet comes through
a window in your home,
she could have said, I'm done.
Who's gonna blame her?
That's threatening
on a whole different level.
You could become a crusading
leader and be willing to die
for the cause
and nothing will deter you.
But if we say we're gonna go
kill your kids, that's an act
of terror that happened there.
>> Things were really dangerous.
That's when I sent the children
to my mother.
She was living in California
at the time.
They'd say, Michael especially,
"Momma, why don't you come
to California?"
Just such a sad time.
>> The Open Housing marches
went on for 200 days,
continuing into early 1968.
>> There was a core people who
were there night after night.
>> To come everyday
like clockwork,
like it was a job
for over 200 days.
This little white man,
he said, "I'm very confused.
What is it that
you people want?"
I said, "Just say America
is a big pie.
We want a piece of the pie.
We want a piece of America."
He look stunned, and he said,
"That's all?"
I said, "Well, that's a great
deal if you don't have it."
>> On April 4th, 1968, the
Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr.
was assassinated.
Soon after,
President Lyndon Johnson
and Congress passed
the Civil Rights Act of 1968.
It included legislation that
for the first time specifically
outlawed housing segregation.
>> Milwaukee is critically
important to the passage of
that national civil rights act
of 1968, the Fair Housing Act.
Walter Mondale cites from
the Senate floor, Milwaukee
as an important case of
how important the issue is
and the need for change.
>> In response to the
new Federal law,
Milwaukee's Common Council
approved a citywide
Open Housing ordinance.
Six years after she first
introduced the ordinance,
Alderman Phillips
had finally won.
>> Of course, it was just
mind boggling and wonderful
to know that we really had it.
>> These are heroes.
Milwaukee heroes,
Wisconsin heroes,
and American heroes,
that deserve their place
in the national narrative.
If we care about justice and
equality, all of us should
embrace Vel, Father Groppi,
the youth council,
the Commandos, and everyone
who came out to support that.
>> My mother would always
tell us, "If you really want it,
don't dream small dreams.
Dream big dreams."
>> In 1971, Vel Phillips
got a call from
Governor Patrick Lucey.
>> When I got elected governor,
I wanted to build
as much support as I could
in the black community.
And when I would go to a black
church and have Vel Phillips
with me, it really set the stage
very nicely for my having
a favorable reception.
>> Governor Lucey asked Phillips
if she would accept
an appointment as
a children's court judge.
>> Oh, yeah.
I was surprised.
He called and he said,
"There's going to be an opening
and I want you to be
the first black."
>> In larger black communities
we had it was important to have
a sitting judge who was black
and the fact that she
was a woman was
an additional advantage.
>> I just thought that I would
have a chance to help shape
someone's life,
to really make a difference.
>> Phillips left her seat
on the Milwaukee Common Council
after 15 years of service
and became the first
African American judge
in Wisconsin history.
>> I shall remember,
for a very long time,
this morning.
Because I am sure that there
will be many times when
remembering your good faith,
your confidence in my ability,
and your sincere wishes for
my success, will be like water
to a thirsty traveler.
[cheers and applause]
[Vel]: I loved being in
children's court.
I loved it.
>> As a children's court judge,
Phillips focused her attention
on the issues facing
African American families.
>> A disproportionate number
of African American kids
coming before her because
they're disproportionately poor.
She knew the family
was important.
>> On the bench, Phillips saw
families torn apart by crisis.
In 1974, her family faced
a crisis of its own,
when her eldest son,
Dale Jr. was diagnosed
with schizophrenia.
>> You say to yourself,
did I do something wrong?
>> The truth of mental illness
in a family situation,
it's a shattering.
He was a paranoid schizophrenic.
He didn't trust.
That mistrust, it hit my father
like a hammer blow.
>> My husband didn't really
understand.
He thought that if we found out
that Dale was having some mental
problems, we'd call the doctor,
and we'd get his medication
and everything, and then
he's okay.
And it wasn't quite like that,
you know, and that was hard.
I cry when I think about it,
because we didn't know
how to deal with it.
Oh, it was a difficult time.
It was a difficult time.
>> I think it separated
my parents a certain degree.
I know that my father probably
dove into work more.
My mom was, she's never
carried a lot of weight,
but I think during this period,
she was even thinner.
It was a very trying time.
It wouldn't surprise me if
my mother looked to a job
in Madison as sort of break
from some of that.
>> This is
Vel Phillips,
a remarkable woman
and dedicated,
experienced public
servant for 30 years.
>> In 1978, Phillips decided
to run for Wisconsin
Secretary of State.
>> I think campaigning is hard.
Really hard.
>> On September 12th, she beat
eight other primary candidates,
winning by almost
double the votes of
the nearest contender
and gaining the Democratic
nomination.
>> I think it's endurance
and able to stay positive.
>> In the general election,
in an increasingly conservative
political environment,
Phillips was forced to
outspend her opponents.
>> My husband said, "Your daddy
is here to help you.
What do you want your daddy
to do?"
I said, "Money."
I would appreciate your vote
on Tuesday, November 7th.
>> Vote Vel Phillips
for Secretary of State.
[bell rings]
>> On November 7th, 1978,
Vel Phillips was elected
Wisconsin's Secretary of State,
becoming the first
African American to be elected
to statewide office in Wisconsin
and the first African American
woman to be elected to any
statewide executive office
in American history.
>> She was in succession
to fill in as governor.
When she talks, it's just
hilarious, she giggles,
about the time when the governor
and the lieutenant governor
left the state, and she realized
"I'm acting governor."
Somebody tipped off the media
to do a story on it.
And as she says,
"The men came rushing back."
The governor and
lieutenant governor said,
"We can't let that happen."
>> When Ebony magazine asked her
about a possible run
for governor Phillips responded,
"No politician worth their salt
would close the door on that."
As Secretary of State,
Phillips continued her work
for civil rights
and women's equality.
>> When people would say,
"What's hardest,
being the first woman
or the first black?"
When I really think about it,
very often there are times
when they do forget that
I'm a black person,
but they never forget
that I'm a woman.
>> Community groups across
Wisconsin invited her to speak
at their events.
Sometimes she would be paid
to appear.
>> Before I became
Secretary of State I would say,
how about $50 or $25.
It would always be some
very minor thing, then I could
give it a black church.
It was a pittance and I thought
I was in the position
where I could demand more.
>> As Secretary of State,
Phillips often requested
speaking fees higher than
the state ethics board advised.
In 1981, she was accused of
numerous ethics violations,
and ultimately was required
to pay back more than $8,000.
>> The question of accepting
honoraria,
you can legally do it during
your term and deposit the money
as campaign money.
But taking it as personal money,
that's something else.
You're using a public office
for personal gain.
That's really the distinction.
That got Vel into trouble.
>> Big mistake.
It was not a wise thing to do.
And of course,
the papers blew it up.
>> Well, she's trying to rewrite
state laws for her benefit.
It's pretty clear, but state
laws are state laws.
They apply equally whether
you're male, female,
black, white, Asian.
We all have to abide by
the same laws.
>> But of course, there were
people who didn't like me
for whatever I did.
>> This time, Dale could not
help her.
>> He thought if anything
that caused a furor
that I should not do it,
it's not worth it.
I never liked to lose,
but I understood.
>> She accepted the results
with real sadness.
She just sort of pulled
into herself.
>> Her political career
in ruins, Phillips returned
to Milwaukee.
>> In '82, my dad still
at the firm, but the family
had really-- had sort of
scattered.
>> Vel decided to focus more
attention on her family.
>> We made a little pact
that one Sunday a month
I wouldn't speak.
I wouldn't be at this church
or this or that.
And we would just relax,
have breakfast in bed
and just cool it.
And those were
wonderful Sundays.
>> There was some recovery
happening at the time.
My brother, he had a doctor
and he was on medication.
I'd just left the house, moved
out west, joined the military.
Left my dad so he could spend
some time, play some golf,
enjoy his wife who was
no longer working.
It's sort of an awakening.
They were able to enjoy
themselves.
When my first son was born
in '84, my father and my mom
came out to visit.
And it was the happiest that
I had seen my father
maybe in ten years, you know?
He was just overjoyed,
he couldn't get enough.
It was good to see him that way.
>> In 1988, a seat opened up
in the U.S. House of
Representatives.
Vel and Dale began to explore
the possibility of Vel
running for Congress.
>> I was gonna run for
the Congress.
I had a meeting at my house
which several people were there.
My husband said, "Honey,
you'd be perfect for it."
And I think I would've won,
but then right before I got
into it,
Dale died and I just--
>> On April 14th 1988,
Dale suffered a sudden
heart attack.
>> I just fell apart.
It was such a low time in my
life because we were very close.
>> Unable to speak at
her husband's funeral,
Vel expressed her grief
in writing.
"Dale, you have been so many
things to me.
My love, my severest critic,
my biggest fan.
How can I go on without you?"
Phillips abandoned her
Congressional run,
never to serve
in an elected office again.
>> It was just like a half of me
just gone and I just couldn't
hang with that.
I didn't have the same zest
without him.
>> She's just never the same.
She shut down for a year.
>> I do recall when he
passed away that she kind of
went into a shell.
Because they were such partners,
you know, really.
She had lost part of herself
when Dale passed.
>> She's been a different
person since then.
It's been two different lives,
I think, for her.
Her life with my father
and her life after my dad.
>> Vel Phillips gradually
returned to her work.
She joined the Community
Brainstorming Conference,
a group of Milwaukee activists
that addressed issues
including high school
dropout rates
and police brutality.
>> Actually, I think that people
who were baptized
in the protest movement
of the 1960s,
that's still a motivator
for them.
>> She created
the Vel Phillips Foundation,
to give high school students
a chance to improve their lives
through higher education.
In 2004, Phillips returned
to the political arena,
serving as the honorary chair
for the congressional
campaign of Gwen Moore,
the first African American
to serve Wisconsin in the
U.S. House of Representatives.
>> You make sure
that your gains,
that you have fought so hard for
and that others
have fought for with you,
are not lost.
That somebody will still
have that voice.
>> Vel's always been a fighter.
Today, in her own way,
Vel is still fighting
to bring about equity
and justice.
>> Her work in the community
was sometimes on a personal,
one-on-one level,
including her advocacy for
an elderly autistic man
named Glen Schneider.
>> He goes to a black church,
that's how I met him.
>> The pastor at St. Mark
asked my mom to help him out.
She has always, always fought
for the underprivileged,
for those who couldn't
fight for themselves.
She has always been their voice.
There is definitely a connection
in her for Glen.
>> So if you would join me
in welcoming Ms. Vel Phillips.
[applause]
>> She continues to be amazingly
active in the community,
and I think that longevity
says a lot.
>> Being in Wisconsin,
I'm reminded of my race
every day.
Sometimes it's discouraging,
but a lot of times I think
of Vel and the obstacles
that she had to overcome.
That's motivation for me.
[laughter]
>> I tell you one thing,
she's a lovely woman.
She's somebody that, I think,
is respected by not only people
here in Milwaukee,
but she is respected by people
all over the world.
>> When we measure it all up
at the end of the day,
Vel Phillips is a great hero.
>> She's the phoenix.
She just keeps on,
and it's a beautiful model
for life, I believe.
>> God has been very good to me.
But hey, I couldn't have done it
without a lot of good people.
I don't think whatever I did
was such a great deal,
but it was breaking ground
in many areas.
I just felt that there must be
a reason why I should be
in this place at this time.
It's been a pretty good ride.
>> To purchase a copy of
Vel Phillips: Dream Big Dreams
or call 800-422-9707.
>> Vel Phillips:
Dream Big Dreams
is funded in part by the
Greater Milwaukee Foundation,
Harvey E. and
Harriet V. Vick Fund,
Helen Bader Foundation,
Evjue Foundation,
the charitable arm
of the Capital Times ,
Wisconsin Humanities Council
with funds from
the National Endowment
for the Humanities,
Brewers Community Foundation,
Milwaukee Chapter of
The Links Incorporated,
and Friends of
Wisconsin Public Television.