and the crooked places will be made straight and the glory of the Lord
shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.
This is our hope. This is the faith that I will go hack 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.
This will he 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
Pilgrim's 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 Hamp-
shire.
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, 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 Catho-
lics, 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."
If anyone had questioned how deeply the summer's activities had
penetrated the consciousness of white America, the answer was evi-
dent in the treatment accorded the March on Washington by all the
media of communication. Normally Negro activities are the object
of attention in the press only when they are likely to lead to some
dramatic outbreak, or possess some bizarre quality. The march was
the first organized Negro operation that was accorded respect and
coverage commensurate with its importance. The millions who
viewed it on television were seeing an event historic not only because
of the subject but because it was being brought into their homes.
Millions of white Americans, for the first time, had a clear, long
look at Negroes engaged in a serious occupation. For the first time
millions listened to the informed and thoughtful words of Negro
spokesmen, from all walks of life. The stereotype of the Negro suf-
fered a heavy blow. This was evident in some of the comments,
which reflected surprise at the dignity, the organization, and even
the wearing apparel and friendly spirit of the participants. If the
press had expected something akin to a minstrel show, or a brawl,
or a comic display of odd clothes and bad manners, they were disap-
pointed. A great deal has been said about a dialogue between Negro
and white. Genuinely to achieve it requires that all the media of
communications open their channels wide as they did on that radi-
ant August day.
As television beamed the image of this extraordinary gathering
across the border oceans, everyone who beHeved in man's capacity
to better himself had a moment of inspiration and confidence in the
future of the human race. And every dedicated American could be
proud that a dynamic experience of democracy in the nation's capi-
tal had been made visible to the world.
21
DEATH OE ILLUSIONS
Man's inhumanity to man is not only perpetrated by the vitriolic
actions of those who are bad. It is also perpetrated by the vitiating
inaction of those who are good.
SEPTEMBER 15. 1963
Dynamite blast kills four young black girls in Sunday school at
Birmingham's Sixteenth Street Baptist Church
SEPTEMBER 18
Delivers eulogy for three of the four children
SEPTEMBER 19
King and other civil rights leaders meet with President John F.
Kennedy
NOVEMBER 22
Assassination of President Kennedy; Lyndon B. Johnson becomes
president
It would have been pleasant to relate that Birmingham settled
down after the storm, and moved constructively to justify the
hopes of the many who wished it well. It would have been pleasant,
but it would not be true. After partial and grudging compliance with
some of the settlement terms, the twentieth-century night riders had
yet another bloodthirsty turn on the stage. On one horror-filled Sep-
tember morning they blasted the lives from four innocent girls, at
Birmingham's Sixteenth Street Baptist Church: Addie Mae Collins,
Denise McNair, Carole Robertson, and Cynthia Wesley. Police killed
another child in the streets, and hate-filled white youths climaxed
the day with the wanton murder of a Negro boy harmlessly riding
his bicycle.
I shall never forget the grief and bitterness I felt on that terrible
September morning. I think of how a woman cried out crunching
through broken glass, "My God, we're not even safe in church!" I
think of how that explosion blew the face of Jesus Christ from a
stained glass window. I can remember thinking, was it all worth it?
Was there any hope?
In Birmingham, which we had believed to be a city redeemed, a
crucifixion had taken place. The children were the victims of a bru-
tality which echoed around the world. Where was God in the midst
of falling bombs?
In every battle for freedom there are martyrs whose lives are
forfeited and whose sacrifice endorses the promise of liberty. The
girls died as a result of the Holy Crusade of black men to be free.
They were not civil rights leaders, as was Medgar Evers. They were
not crusaders of justice, as was William Moore—a Baltimore post-
man who was gunned down as he sought to deliver the message of
democracy to the citadel of injustice. They were youngsters—a tiny
bit removed from baby food—and babies, we are told, are the latest
news from heaven.
So, children are a glorious promise, and no one could tell what
those children could have become—another Mary Bethune or Ma-
halia Jackson. But, they became the most glorious that they could
have become. They became symbols of our crusade. They gave their
lives to insure our liberty. They did not do this deliberately. They
did it because something strange, something incomprehensible to
man is reenacted in God's will, and they are home today with God.
"So they did not die in vain"
Perhaps the poverty of conscience of the white majority in Bir-
mingham was most clearly illustrated at the funeral of the child mar-
tyrs. No white official attended. No white faces could be seen save
for a pathetically few courageous ministers. More than children were
buried that day; honor and decency were also interred.
Our tradition, our faith, our loyalty were taxed that day as we
gazed upon the caskets which held the bodies of those children.
Some of us could not understand why God permitted death and
destruction to come to those who had done no man harm.
This afternoon we gather in the quiet of this sanctuary to pay our
last tribute of respect to these beautiful children of God. They entered
the stage of history just a few years ago, and in the brief years that
they were privileged to act on this mortal stage, they played their parts
exceedingly well. Now the curtain falls; they move through the exit; the
drama of their earthly life comes to a close. They are now committed
back to that eternity from which they came.
These children—unoffending, innocent, and beautiful—were the
victims of one of the most vicious, heinous crimes ever perpetrated
against humanity.
Yet they died nobly. They are the martyred heroines of a holy cru-
sade for freedom and human dignity. So they have something to say to
us in their death. They have something to say to every minister of the
gospel who has remained silent behind the safe security of stained-glass
windows. They have something to say to every politician who has fed
his constitutents the stale bread of hatred and the spoiled meat of rac-
ism. They have something to say to a federal government that has com-
promised with the undemocratic practices of Southern Dixiecrats and
the blatant hypocrisy of right-wing Northern Republicans. They have
something to say to every Negro who passively accepts the evil system of
segregation and stands on the sidelines in the midst of a mighty struggle
for justice. They say to each of us, black and white alike, that we must
substitute courage for caution. They say to us that we must be con-
cerned not merely about who murdered them, but about the system, the
way of life, and the philosophy which produced the murderers. Their
death says to us that we must work passionately and unrelentingly to
make the American dream a reality.
So they did not die in vain. God still has a way of wringing good
out of evil. History has proven over and over again that unmerited
suffering is redemptive. The innocent blood of these little girls may well
serve as the redemptive force that will bring new light to this dark city.
The holy Scripture says, "A little child shall lead them." The death of
these little children may lead our whole Southland from the low road
of man's inhumanity to man to the high road of peace and brother-
hood. These tragic deaths may lead our nation to substitute an aristoc-
racy of character for an aristocracy of color. The spilt blood of these
innocent girls may cause the whole citizenry of Birmingham to trans-
form the negative extremes of a dark past into the positive extremes of
a bright future. Indeed, this tragic event may cause the white South to
come to terms with its conscience.
So in spite of the darkness of this hour we must not despair. We
must not become bitter; nor must we harbor the desire to retaliate with
violence. We must not lose faith in our white brothers. Somehow we
must believe that the most misguided among them can learn to respect
the dignity and worth of all human personality.
May I now say a word to you, the members of the bereaved families.
It is almost impossible to say anything that can console you at this
difficult hour and remove the deep clouds of disappointment which are
floating in your mental skies. But I hope you can find a little conso-
lation from the universality of this experience. Death comes to every
individual. There is an amazing democracy about death. It is not an
aristocracy for some of the people, but a democracy for all of the people.
Kings die and beggars die; rich men die and poor men die; old people
die and young people die; death comes to the innocent and it comes to
the guilty. Death is the irreducible common denominator of all men.
I hope you can find some consolation from Christianity's affirma-
tion that death is not the end. Death is not a period that ends the great
sentence of life, hut a comma that punctuates it to more lofty signifi-
cance. Death is not a blind alley that leads the human race into a state
of nothingness, but an open door which leads man into life eternal. Let
this daring faith, this great invincible surmise, be your sustaining power
during these trying days.
"Accomplices to murder"
As did most citizens of the United States, I looked to the White
House for solace in this moment of crisis. The White House could
never restore the lives of these four unoffending children. But, in my
mind and in my heart and in my soul, there was a dream and a hope
that out of this unbelievable horror would come lasting good. When
the President summoned me and leaders of the Birmingham move-
ment to confer with him, this dream became more poignant and
this hope more real.
We come to you today because we feel that the Birmingham situa-
tion is so serious that it threatens not only the life and stability of
Birmingham and Alabama but our whole nation. The destiny of our
nation is involved. We feel that Birmingham has reached a state of civil
disorder. There are many things that would justify our coming to this
conclusion.
The real problem that we face is this: the Negro community is about
to reach a breaking point and a great deal of frustration is there and
confusion. And there is a feeling of being alone and not being protected.
If you walk the streets, you are not safe; if you stay at home, you are
not safe; if you are in church, you are not safe. So that the Negro feels
that everywhere he goes that if he remains stationary, he is in danger
of some physical problem.
Now this presents a real problem for those of us who find ourselves
in leadership positions, because we are preaching the philosophy and
method of nonviolence. We have been consistent in standing up for
nonviolence. But more and more we are faced with the problem of our
people saying, "What's the use?" And we find it a little more difficult
to get over nonviolence. And I am convinced that if something isn't
done to give the Negro a new sense of hope and a sense of protection,
there is a danger we will face the worse race riot we have ever seen in
this country.
When I left the White House, I left with an almost audacious
faith that, finally, something positive, something definitive, some-
thing real would be done by the leadership of this nation to redeem
the community in which horror had come to make its home. I exer-
cised what I believed to be a tremendous restraint. In doing so, I
acted contrary to the wishes of those who had marched with me in
the dangerous campaigns for freedom. I was certain that my silence
and restraint were misunderstood by many who were loyal enough
not to express their doubts. I did this because I was naive enough to
believe that the proof of good faith would emerge.
It became obvious that this was a mistake. It began to become
obvious when I realized that the mayor who had wept on television
had not even had the common decency to come or to send an emis-
sary to the funerals of these murdered innocents. I looked back and
noted that the administration itself endorsed the pattern of segrega-
tion by having separate—and I v^^onder if they were equal—meetings
with the white and colored leadership. The presidential envoys
seemed to beheve that, by meeting with white people at one hour
and Negroes at another, they could bring about a redemptive under-
standing. This, we knew, they could not do. This, surely, the Presi-
dent must have understood, was impossible.
CHRISTMAS LETTER TO THE FAMILY OF DENISE MCNAIR
Dear Mr. and Mrs. McNair:
Here in the midst of the Christmas season my thoughts have turned
to you. This has been a difficult year for you. The coming Christmas,
when the family bonds are normally more closely knit, makes the loss
you have sustained even more painful. Yet, with the sad memories there
are the memories of the good days when Denise was with you and your
family.
As you know, many of us are giving up our Christmas as a memorial
for the great sacrifices made this year in the Freedom Struggle. I know
there is nothing that can compensate for the vacant place in your family
circle, but we did want to share a part of our sacrifice this year with you.
Perhaps there is some small thing dear to your heart in which this gift
can play a part.
We knew, when we went into Birmingham, that this was the test,
the acid test of whether the Negro Revolution would succeed. If the
forces of reaction which were seeking to nullify and cancel out all of
the gains made in Birmingham were allowed to triumph, the day
was lost in this battle for freedom. We were faced with an extreme
situation, and our remedies had to be extreme.
I fear that, from the White House down to the crocodile-weeping
city administration of Birmingham, the intent and the intensity of the
Negro has been misunderstood. So, I must serve notice on this nation,
I must serve notice on the White House. I must serve notice on the city
administration of Birmingham. I must serve notice on the conscience of
the American people. On August 28, we had marched on our capital.
It was a peaceful march; it was a quiet march; it was a tranquil march.
And I am afraid that some people, from the White House down, misun-
derstood the peace and the quiet and the tranquility of that march.
They must have beUeved that it meant that the Revolution was all over,
that its fires were quenched, that its marvelous militancy had died.
They could have made no greater error. Our passion to he free; our
determination to walk with dignity and justice have never abated. We
are more determined than ever before that nonviolence is the way. Let
them bring on their bombs. Let them sabotage us with the evil of coop-
eration with segregation. We intend to be free.
"Assassinated by a morally inclement climate"
Negroes tragically know political assassination well. In the life of
Negro civil rights leaders, the whine of the bullet from ambush,
the roar of the bomb have all too often broken the night's silence.
They have replaced lynching as a political weapon. More than a dec-
ade ago, sudden death came to Mr. and Mrs. Harry T. Moore,
NAACP leaders in Florida. The Reverend George Lee of Belzoni,
Mississippi, was shot to death on the steps of a rural courthouse.
The bombings multiplied. Nineteen sixty-three was a year of assassi-
nations. Medgar Evers in Jackson, Mississippi; WiUiam Moore in
Alabama; six Negro children in Birmingham—and who could doubt
that these too were political assassinations?
The unforgivable default of our society has been its failure to
apprehend the assassins. It is a harsh judgment, but undeniably true,
that the cause of the indifference was the identity of the victims.
Nearly all were Negroes. And so the plague spread until it claimed
the most eminent American, a warmly loved and respected Presi-
dent. The words of Jesus, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of
the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me" were more
than a figurative expression; they were a literal prophecy.
Men everywhere were stunned into sober confusion at the news
of the assassination of President Jack Kennedy. We watched the
thirty-fifth President of our nation go down like a great cedar. The
personal loss was deep and crushing; the loss to the world was over-
powering. It is still difficult to believe that one so saturated with vim,
vitality, and vigor is no longer in our midst.
President Kennedy was a strongly contrasted personality. There
were in fact two John Kennedys. One presided in the first two years
under pressure of the uncertainty caused by his razor-thin margin
of victory. He vacillated, trying to sense the direction his leadership
could travel while retaining and building support for his administra-
tion. However, in 1963, a new Kennedy had emerged. He had found
that public opinion was not in a rigid mold. American political
thought was not committed to conservatism, nor radicalism, nor
moderation. It was above all fluid. As such it contained trends rather
than hard lines, and affirmative leadership could guide it into con-
structive channels.
President Kennedy was not given to sentimental expressions of
feeling. He had, however, a deep grasp of the dynamics of and the
necessity for social change. His work for international amity was a
bold effort on a world scale. His last speech on race relations was the
most earnest, human, and profound appeal for understanding and
justice that any President has uttered since the first days of the re-
pubHc. Uniting his flair for leadership with a program of social prog-
ress, he was at his death undergoing a transformation from a
hesitant leader with unsure goals to a strong figure with deeply ap-
pealing objectives.
The epitaph of John Kennedy reveals that he was a leader un-
afraid of change. He came to the presidency in one of the most
turbulent and cataclysmic periods of human history, a time when
the problems of the world were gigantic in intent and chaotic in
detail. On the international scene there was the ominous threat of
mankind being plunged into the abyss of nuclear annihilation. On
the domestic scene the nation was reaping the harvest of its terrible
injustice toward the Negro. John Kennedy met these problems with
a depth of concern, a breath of intelligence, and a keen sense of
history. He had the courage to be a friend of civil rights and a stal-
wart advocate of peace. The unmistakable cause of the sincere grief
expressed by so many millions was more than simple emotion. It
revealed that President Kennedy had become a symbol of people's
yearnings for justice, economic well-being, and peace.
Owr nation should do a great deal of soul-searching as a result of
President Kennedys assassination. The shot that came from the fifth-
story building cannot be easily dismissed as the isolated act of a
madman. Honesty impels us to look beyond the demented mind that
executed this dastardly act While the question "Who killed President
I
Kennedy?" is important, the question "What killed him?" is more im-
portant.
Our late President was assassinated by a morally inclement climate.
It is a climate filled with heavy torrents of false accusation, jostling
winds of hatred, and raging storms of violence.
It is a climate where men cannot disagree without being disagree-
able, and where they express dissent through violence and murder. It is
the same climate that murdered Medgar Evers in Mississippi and six
innocent Negro children in Birmingham, Alabama.
So in a sense we are all participants in that horrible act that tar-
nished the image of our nation. By our silence, by our willingness to
compromise principle, by our constant attempt to cure the cancer of
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