John Fraser Hart wrote in
1967 in his book "The Southeastern United States: "The attitude of
most Southerners, when they contemplated the future of their region,
was compounded with hope and fear. Their hope was for rapid
industrial development that would change the retarded rural South to
modern cities. Their fear was the necessity of accepting the
practice of racial equality. These hopes and fears were both
interrelated, for cities are centers of change, and the growth of
cities would bring increased pressures for integration."
So on Aug. 28, 1963, Dr.
Martin Luther King Jr. stood in front of the Lincoln Memorial in
Washington, D.C., to deliver his "I Have a Dream" speech, where he said
the promises that had been given a hundred years before had been
broken.
He said: "But one hundred years later, the Negro still is
not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still
sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of
discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely
island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material
prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished
in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his
own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful
condition."
Dr. King's call for
justice continued. His insight had come from personal experience
through the suffering of injustice and broken promises.
He
continued: "In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a
check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent
words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they
were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall
heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well
as white men, would be guaranteed the 'unalienable Rights' of 'Life,
Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.' It is obvious today that
America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her
citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred
obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check
which has come back marked 'insufficient funds.'"
Echoing that call for
justice, much evidence had been laid on the foundation of the
"defaulted promissory note" Dr. King had described.
John A. Hannah,
author of "Public Education" (1964), issued a staff report indicating
that "with the close of the 1963-64 school year, 10 years after the
Supreme Court's decision in the School Segregation Cases, just a
small portion over nine percent of the Negro children in the
Southern and Border States were attending public schools with White
students."
Hannah continued: "In the
year 1963-64, there were 181 school districts in the 17 States which
admitted Negro pupils to White schools for the first time, the
largest number added in any year since 1956-57, the third school
year after the Supreme Court's decision. On a regional basis, 19.7
percent of the school districts in the 11 Southern States had
started the desegregation process, whereas 92.4 percent of the
school districts in the Border States were desegregated in some
degree. Two states, South Carolina and Alabama, experienced their
first desegregation below the college level when schools opened in
September 1963. Mississippi was the only state maintaining
completely segregated elementary and secondary schools in 1963-64."
One governor, George
Wallace in Alabama, was defiant toward integration. Robert
Sherrill, author of "Gothic Politics in the Deep South (1969)," had
quoted George Wallace in 1962: "I shall refuse to abide by any
illegal federal court order, even to the point of standing at the
schoolhouse door in person." Of course everyone now knows that is
exactly what he did.
On Sept. 9, 1963,
President Kennedy issued a statement in which he accused the
governor (Wallace) of trying to provoke federal government
intervention. The president charged that the governor's actions
were motivated by personal and political reasons. He said the
governor knew that the United States government must carry out court
orders, and that most citizens of the four cities involved were
willing to face the difficult transition with the same courage and
respect for law shown by communities in neighboring states. Kennedy said that the government would do whatever was
necessary to see that federal orders to desegregate public schools
were carried out in Alabama, but added his hope that the governor
would allow local officials and communities to meet their
responsibilities in this regard.
Robert Sherrill, author
of "Gothic Politics in the Deep South, 1969" wrote: "The stage was
set at the University of Alabama. Sherrill painted a perfect
picture of a political George Wallace at work."
Reporting in
Sherrill's "Gothic Politics" says: "George Wallace was given a podium
and microphone to make his speech, in front of the television
cameras. As Deputy Attorney General Katzenbach approached, Wallace
held up his hand like a traffic cop, the Governor and Katzenbach
began to talk. Later, the temporarily federalized National Guard
general stepped in, as Wallace saluted him, and announced it was his
'sad duty' to have to take over from the Governor. Wallace, at that
point, consoled him by saying, 'I know this is a bitter pill ...' At
that point, Wallace stepped aside to surrender, not to the federal
government, but to a Southern soldier acting under duress.'"
These
were the politics of George Wallace.
This was the segregation
that existed in the Southern schools. The attitudes of the leaders
of the South, and the people who lived there, was to keep the South
segregated. They wanted regional growth and larger cities with
more industry, but they feared integration.
Dr. King encountered
pressures and opposition from many sources. The opposition even
came from fellow preachers and pastors. They were complaining that
he was moving too fast in trying to gain equality, justice and
integration.
From his perspective, the country had moved too
slowly.
From his jail cell in the city of Birmingham, Ala., Dr.
King wrote: "We know through painful experience that freedom is
never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the
oppressed. Frankly, I have yet to engage in a direct-action campaign
that was 'well timed' in the view of those who have not suffered
unduly from the disease of segregation. For years now I have heard
the word 'Wait!' It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing
familiarity. This 'wait' has almost always meant 'never.' We must
come to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that 'justice
too long delayed is justice denied.'" —
Martin Luther King Jr.,
April 16, 1963, "Letter from a Birmingham Jail"
[to top of second column] |
As Dr. King stood amid
that giant crowd in Washington, D.C., that day, his mind may have gone
back to the leaders of the church who had pierced his efforts with
criticism and cries to "wait."
He continued his speech: "There are
those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, 'When will you be
satisfied?' We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the
victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never
be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of
travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the
hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's
basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can
never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their
self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: 'For Whites
Only.' We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi
cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for
which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be
satisfied until 'justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness
like a mighty stream.'" (This quote from the Bible: Amos 5:24,
American Standard Version)
Our remembrance of Dr.
King rings in our ears and echoes in our minds each time we remember
the man and his work. With all the struggles he faced as he
delivered the check to America to cash it in for all Americans who
want to be free, his legacy remains forever embedded in our
collective memory as we rehearse the monumental work he did for all
humanity. It can be summed up by his own words as he ended his
speech in Washington. Read those words again and remember a great
man, his struggles and his dreams.
Let us not wallow in the
valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.
And so even though we
face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream.
It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one
day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its
creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are
created equal."
I have a dream that one
day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the
sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the
table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one
day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat
of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be
transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my
four little children will one day live in a nation where they will
not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their
character.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one
day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor
having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and
"nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys
and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys
and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one
day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall
be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked
places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be
revealed and all flesh shall see it together." (Isaiah 40:4-5, KJV)
This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South
with.
With this faith, we will
be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With
this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of
our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this
faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to
struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom
together, knowing that we will be free one day.
And this will be the day —
this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to
sing with new meaning:
"My country, 'tis of thee
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers
died,
Land of the Pilgrims' pride,
From every mountainside
Let
freedom ring!"
And if America is to be a
great nation, this must become true.
And so let freedom ring
from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.
Let freedom ring from the
mighty mountains of New York.
Let freedom ring from the
heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.
Let freedom ring from the
snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.
Let freedom ring from the
curvaceous slopes of California.
But not only that:
Let freedom ring from
Stone Mountain of Georgia.
Let freedom ring from
Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom ring from
every hill and molehill of Mississippi.
From every mountainside,
let freedom ring.
And when this happens,
and when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every
village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will
be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men
and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be
able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:
" Free at last! Free
at last!
Thank God Almighty,
we are free at last!"
—Martin Luther King Jr.,
"I Have a Dream," Aug. 28, 1963, Washington, D.C.
[By JIM KILLEBREW]
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