N.A.A.C.P.'s Country Preacher

"I'm just a poor little ol' country preacher," Benjamin Hooks likes to say, and there are a few unwary souls around who may believe him. Those who have had dealings with him in his native Memphis or in Washington, where he is the first and only black member of the Federal Communications Commission, know better. Hooks, 51, is a shrewd, articulate spokesman for his race. His country cover was probably blown for good when he was named this month to succeed Roy Wilkins as executive director of the N.A.A.C.P., the country's oldest civil rights organization.

Actually Hooks, who is in fact an ordained Baptist minister, will need all his preaching abilities in his new job. The N.A.A.C.P. is in grave danger of becoming nothing more than an honored anachronism. The very fact that for the first six months of 1977 it will have not one but two heads--Hooks and Wilkins--is a symptom of its deep malaise. Wilkins, 75, has even accused some members of the N.A.A.C.P.'s governing board of conducting a "campaign of vilification" to get rid of him. For the sake of appearances, the board allowed him to stay--along with Hooks as director-designate--until after the national convention next summer in St. Louis, the city in which Wilkins was born.

Besides division within the organization, Hooks will face two other problems. Partly as a result of unfavorable court judgments in the South, the N.A.A.C.P. came close to bankruptcy this year. One of Hooks' first jobs will be to search for donors and to raise the N.A.A.C.P.'s membership, now less than half a million, to 2 million.

Hooks may indeed be the best choice to battle what he calls the "sophisticated and subtle" racism of the '70s. A member of one of Memphis' most prominent black families, he became both a lawyer and a minister. He practiced law in Memphis from 1949 to 1965, when Tennessee Governor Frank Clement named him a criminal-court judge; the next year he was elected to an eight-year term in his own right. At the same time, he often preached on Sundays, alternating between a church in Memphis and one in Detroit. Hooks and his wife Frances have an adopted daughter.

In 1972 President Nixon appointed Hooks to the FCC where he was a strong defender of the rights of minorities and women. Though he stood a good chance of becoming FCC chairman during the Carter Administration, he felt that his powers would not in fact be enlarged. Until the N.A.A.C.P. job came along, his chief desire was to return to preaching. Accepting the N.A.A.C.P.'s offer required some soul searching, he concedes, but "it does give me a chance, in the secular sense, to deal with my concern for people. At the FCC, I dealt with institutions." Besides, he adds, "the N.A.A.C.P. needs me."

That is undeniable. But even if he can put the 67-year-old organization back on its feet--still a considerable question--Hooks will have just begun. "The problem transcends race," he says. "It is employment, education, and a decent welfare system. The high joblessness among black people creates a sense of alienation and frustration. Black folks have to understand that nobody is going to come around and give us a bag of goodies any more. If we don't fight to keep moving, we cannot hold on to what we have gained."

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