Orval Faubus may well have been the last significant public figure in America to have been born in a log cabin. His parents were so poor they did not own the cabin but rented it. The tiny baby born on January 7, 1910, weighed less than three pounds. John Samuel Faubus, the father, was 22. For his son's middle name he chose that of his hero: Eugene V. Debbs.

Young Faubus grew up frail, painfully shy, and afflicted with an inferiority complex, feeling that his family was looked down upon not only for their mind-numbing poverty, but also because of Sam Faubus's controversial political views. Faubus inherited his father's interest in politics, but his relentless quest of normalcy led him to be militantly middle-of-the-road and he honed his centrist skills in a never-ending series of debates with his contentious father. He farmed, cut timber, taught school, and was a migrant farm worker while slowly pursuing his education. Faubus married in 1931, but didn't finish high school until 1934. Following that he briefly attended Commonwealth College, a Socialist school near Mena. Faubus's association with the leftist institution would later haunt his political career.

In 1936 Faubus ran for the legislature and lost by only four votes. In 1938 he was elected Madison County circuit clerk and reelected two years later. In 1942 he received the Democratic nomination for county judge, but withdrew to enter the army. Faubus quickly rose to the rank of major and served as an intelligence officer in the staff of General George Patton, a position which placed him on the front lines for most of the Battle of the Bulge. During this time he wrote a column for the Madison County Record reporting on his war experiences. As a result Faubus returned home as something of a war hero. Truman appointed him as the local postmaster and he used his earnings to buy the Record.

As the editor Faubus threw his support behind the GI revolt of Sid McMath. As a result McMath appointed Faubus first to the highway commission and later as a staff aide. When scandal began to infect the highway department, McMath placed Faubus in charge of the agency in 1951. Though the improprieties of the highway department were one of the issues which toppled McMath, Faubus managed to escape the stigma.

In 1954 Faubus sensed that one-term governor Francis Cherry was vulnerable. In just two short years the aristocratic ex-judge had managed to alienate almost every good ol' boy and political wheeler-dealer in the state. Because Witt Stephens, an Arkansas financier and Cherry supporter, had threatened to run candidates against all of Faubus's friends should he enter the governor's race, Faubus delayed entering the race until literally the last possible moment, officially filing less than 15 minutes before the time to do so expired.

Faubus spent most of his first term attempting to neutralize his enemies and broaden his base of support. He also had the necessary will and nerve to raise revenues in order to increase funding to education.

Faubus was by no means eager to see Little Rock become the first capitol of the former Confederacy to integrate its schools. He hit upon an elaborate ruse to delay matters. He persuaded a White Citizens group of Central High mothers to file suit to block integration on the grounds of recently passed anti-integration initiatives. A local magistrate who was a Faubus appointee would rule favorably. Then the case would be appealed to the federal district judge, who had agreed to delay integration while he ruled on the legality of the Arkansas laws. Unfortunately at the last instant the federal judge dismissed himself from the case. He was replaced by Judge Ronald N. Davies of North Dakota, who summarily dismissed the suit and ordered the desegregation to proceed as scheduled.

This left Faubus scrambling for plan B. Eventually he would call out the National Guard, ostensibly to prevent violence. One problem with this strategy was that no angry mob appeared on opening day sufficient to justify this use of martial law. It seems clear in retrospect, that despite his bravado, Johnson's scruples prevented him from crossing the line into actual bloodshed. There is even evidence - though not conclusive - that Faubus or his supporters deliberately orchestrated an outbreak of violence on March 23, so as to force the federal government to nationalize the Guard and assume direct responsibility for the protection of the black students. According to a police survey of the 400 cars in the vicinity, 129 were from out of state. If one takes into account the cars of students and residents of the vicinity, then perhaps as many as half the mob present that day appear to have been deliberately imported for the occasion.

All of this had the desired effect of forcing the federal government to accept the full onus of integration, thereby taking Faubus off the hook. There is no indication, however, that Faubus ever seriously believed he had a chance to actually prevent the desegregation. It is hard to escape the conclusion that his actions represent the most cynical sort of ploy. Few could rival Faubus's skills and instincts as a politician; unfortunately, those instincts led him to behave as a politician at a moment in history when Arkansas needed a statesman.

Faubus would go on to serve an unprecedented six terms as governor.