The Agitators:
A Reminiscence
Available February 1, 2026
I’m Shadrach Greenwood, the narrator
I’m sixty-seven years old now, and I’d like to tell you what it was like for me and my friends growing up here in Carrollton.
In 1968, Carroll County was the epicenter of everything wrong with race relations in Mississippi. Its proximity to violent occurrences against “agitators” around the state, as well as an incident at our own center of justice, kept fanning passions over fairness and rights. A verdict on ending segregation would certainly anger many more, no matter which way it went.
But life must go on with hope for the future. My cousin Penny Caslin and I became friends with the new boy in town, Matthew Nelms.
Penny claimed to be full-blooded Choctaw, and she frequently rode her pony, Pinto, to the town square. Matthew attempted many times to convince his father to let him have a motorcycle. I tried to read my books quietly, but I always pushed back on adult men who wanted to maintain local racial norms, like making me say “yes-sir” to them.
As I mentioned, integration was not yet settled, so the three of us could only hold out hope we would attend school together in the fall.
In the middle of all this, Sam Nelms, Matthew’s father, was the town newspaper publisher, and he tried to find a way to unite our divided community. He learned producers were scouting locations for a movie based on a William Faulkner book, and he convinced them to film it in Carrollton. But when the Klan heard about the pending arrival of the diverse cast, they branded him an agitator. That’s when the crosses burned.
I’m getting ahead of myself. Here we are, over fifty years later. What do you think has happened since then? Not at all what you think, I can assure you. Sit down with me on the steps here, and I’ll tell you as we gaze upon the Silent Sentinel and Confederate flag there on the lawn of our justice center. I’ve brought one of my scrapbooks, and I’ll show you some things to prove everything I say in my reminiscence is true.
Sort of.
