Gulf Pine Catholic

Gulf Pine Catholic • August 20, 2021 16 “Some individual parishioners at Sacred Heart also heard the call of the bishop. They and other Hattiesburg heroes fought for voter rights and equality in our com- munity, often times at personal risk. They did so at a time when some people in the area actively champi- oned the Jim Crow system. “During Black History Month, we often hear about and think of famous heroes of the civil rights move- ment, including in particular Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. who dreamed big and did amazing things in the fight for justice. We do not always think about the everyday unnamed heroes who dreamed big. Let us remember as Catholics and Hattiesburg residents that we have a rich legacy of such heroes, the faithful men, women and youth of Holy Rosary Catholic Church and throughout the larger community.” Joe Kerley’s parents, Bill and JoAnn Kerley, were among those unnamed heroes at Sacred Heart who sup- ported Father Quinn’s work in the movement. They had grown very close to the young pastor and treated him like a member of the family, including after he transi- tioned to lead Holy Rosary. For their support of him and his work for social justice during that time, they earned the ire of and monitoring by local white suprem- acists. “They (Bill and JoAnn Kerley) both grew up in families with deep Catholic roots, part Irish Catholic,” Joe Kerley said. “Their ancestors, when they arrived in the United States, experienced prejudice as Irish Catholics. As a result, both grew up with the teachings that all of us are God’s children, no one superior to anyone else, be it because of race, creed or otherwise.” It became very routine that Father Quinn would come to the Kerley house on Saturday mornings for breakfast after his morning Mass. Joe Kerley said Father Quinn would have long discussions with his mom and dad about civil justice and voting rights. “At one point Dad was appointed by Monsignor Martin, the pastor of Sacred Heart, to be our parish’s delegate to a new biracial organization in Mississippi, the Diocesan Council of Catholic Men,” Joe Kerley said. “Men om almost every parish in the state would meet in Jackson, either once a month or once every two months. There was a delegate om Holy Rosary Church also and he and Dad would alternate driving to Jackson for meetings. “But this was a time when (per segregation rule and custom) that a white man and a Black man were not to share the ont seat, one or the other was supposed to sit in the back seat. When Dad would get home, he would tell Mom about the meeting and a number of times about problems going to or coming om Jackson. They would not discuss some of these things with me or my sisters, but being a nosey kid, it was easy to eavesdrop. And what I heard was scary. “One thing I heard was that their car had been run off the road by a vehicle with two or three white men in it, another was dad telling mom how some men would scream obscenities om the open window of their vehi- cle and use obscene gestures. But the one that scared me most was one trip to Jackson when one or more white men had pulled up beside dad’s vehicle and pointed one or more guns. “I only heard a action of these discussions between my mom and dad, they didn’t want me to know how dangerous the situation was. Only years later did they fill me in with more of the details.” Kerley recalled another incident when the doorbell at the car porch door rang and rang. “It was 2 a.m. Mom and dad got up and I did too,” he said. “My two sisters slept through it. I was probably 13 or 14 years old. Dad pulled back the curtain covering the door window and Mom said, ‘It’s Father Quinn!’ Dad opened the door and Father Quinn quickly came inside, shut the door and turned off the light of the carport and the light just inside the entrance. We peeked out and could see a sta- tion wagon slowly drive past our house, the station wagon’s lights were off. “Father Quinn knew dad had bought me a .22 rifle for my 12th birthday, but I couldn’t use it until I had a safety arms course. He asked for the rifle. Vehicles had driven by Holy Rosary’s multi-purpose facility and the passengers threw rocks at the building and door as well as the rectory and church. Father Quinn said they could kill him but he had college students there who were doing voter registration, and he said he would do any- thing to protect them. We hid the rifle and a box of ammunition in a golf bag and he left with the bag in his own station wagon, two or three Black males accompa- nied him.” Father Quinn and the students were not harmed. Almost immediately after that, members of the Klan started throwing newspaper-grade pamphlets onto the Kerley’s ont lawn. “Mom would always try to get them before we could see them, but I did pick one of them up first and it was horrific (with racist imagery and mes- sages). Mom grabbed it om me. She mailed all of the ones she got to the FBI.” Reflecting on those tumultuous times, Joe Kerley noted that “Holy Rosary was pivotal, with Father Quinn as its pastor, in the struggle for civil rights for Blacks in Forrest County and throughout South Mississippi -- we were so fortunate and blessed to have him then. He and the church’s members really put their lives on the line for the cause.” Father Ken prays that Holy Rosary “keeps the spirit of the work of the 1950s, ’60s and 70s alive, to renew the spirit of that vision to allow God to convict us with whatever mission he has for us going forward as we follow his will.” “The church with the sweet, sweet spirit inside, the little church with the big heart, we’re still working to capitalize on that,” he continued. “More than 70 years later, even though we may be small in number, that feeling, that sense of love and belonging like a family, it’s still there.” Holy Rosary om page 11 Left, Holy Rosary parishioner Arthur Walker prepares for Mass. Right, Carrie Parrott plays piano for Holy Rosary Mass.