The autobiography of martin luther

racial injustice with the Vaseline of gradualism, by our readiness to

allow arms to be purchased at will and fired at whim, by allowing our

movie and television screens to teach our children that the hero is one

who masters the art of shooting and the technique of killing, by allowing

all these developments, we have created an atmosphere in which vio-

lence and hatred have become popular pastimes.

So President Kennedy has something important to say to each of us

in his death. He has something to say to every politician who has fed

his constituents the stale bread of racism and the spoiled meat of hatred.

He has something to say to every clergyman who observed racial evils

and remained silent behind the safe security of stained glass windows.

He has something to say to the devotees of the extreme right who poured

out venomous words against the Supreme Court and the United Na-

tions, and branded everyone a communist with whom they disagree.

He has something to say to a misguided philosophy of communism that

would teach man that the end justifies the means, and that violence

and the denial of basic freedom are justifiable methods to achieve the

goal of a classless society.

He says to all of us that this virus of hate that has seeped into the

veins of our nation, if unchecked, will lead inevitably to our moral and

spiritual doom.

Thus the epitaph of John Kennedy's life illuminates profound truths

that challenge us to set aside our grief of a season and move forward

with more determination to rid our nation of the vestiges of racial segre-

gation and discrimination.

The assassination of President Kennedy killed not only a man but a

complex of illusions. It demolished the myth that hate and violence

can be confined in an airtight chamber to be employed against but

a few. Suddenly the truth was revealed that hate is a contagion; that

it grows and spreads as a disease; that no society is so healthy that it

can automatically maintain its immunity. If a smallpox epidemic

had been raging in the South, President Kennedy would have been

urged to avoid the area. There was a plague afflicting the South, but

its perils were not perceived.

We were all involved in the death of John Kennedy. We tolerated

hate; we tolerated the sick simulation of violence in all walks of life;

and we tolerated the differential application of law, which said that

a man's life was sacred only if we agreed with his views. This may

explain the cascading grief that flooded the country in late Novem-

ber. We mourned a man who had become the pride of the nation,

but we grieved as well for ourselves because we knew we were sick.

22

ST. AUGUSTINE

of the most turbulent motion the nation has ever known in peace-

time.

FEBRUARY 9, 1964

leader Robert Hayling to invite SCLC to join struggle

MAY 28

After the jailing of hundreds of demonstrators in St. Augustine,

JUNE 11

JUNE

JULY 2

When 1963 came to a close, more than a few skeptical voices

asked what substantial progress had been achieved through

the demonstrations that had drawn more than a million Negroes

into the streets. By the close of 1964, the pessimistic clamor was

stilled by the music of major victories. Taken together, the two years

marked a historical turning point for the civil rights movement; in

the previous century no comparable change for the Negro had oc-

curred. Now, even the most cynical acknowledged that at Bir-

mingham, as at Concord, a shot had been fired that was heard

around the world.

In the bursting mood that had overtalcen the Negro, the words

"compromise" and "retreat" were profane and pernicious. Our rev-

olution was genuine because it was born from the same womb that

always gives birth to massive social upheavals—the womb of intoler-

able conditions and unendurable situations. The Negro was deter-

mined to liberate himself. His cry for justice had hardened into a

palpable, irresistible force. He was unwilling to retrogress or even

mark time.

The mainstay of the SCLC program was still in the area of nonvi-

olent direct action. Our feeling was that this method, more than any

other, was the best way to raise the problems of the Negro people

and the injustices of our social order before the court of world opin-

ion, and to require action.

"Four Hundred Years of Bigotry and Hate"

St. Augustine, Florida, a beautiful town and our nation's oldest city,

was the scene of raging tempers, flaring violence, and the most cor-

rupt coalition of segregationist opposition outside of Mississippi. It

was a stronghold of the Ku Klux Klan and the John Birch Society.

There the Klan made a last-ditch stand against the nonviolent move-

ment. They flocked to St. Augustine's Slave Market Plaza from all

across north Florida, Georgia, and Alabama. Klansmen abducted

four Negroes and beat them unconscious with clubs, ax handles, and

pistol butts.

Florida responded out of a concern for its tourist trade. But

when Governor Bryant realized that justice was the price to be paid

for a good image, he resorted to the Old South line of attempting

to crush those seeking their constitutional rights. Only Judge Bryan

Simpson of the federal district court, a Republican appointee,

proved to be free enough of the "system" to preserve constitutional

rights for St. Augustine's Negroes.

SCLC came to St. Augustine at the request of the local unit

which was seeking: (1) a bi-racial committee; (2) desegregation of

public accommodations; (3) hiring of policemen, firemen, and office

workers in municipal jobs; and (4) dropping of charges against per-

sons peacefully protesting for their constitutional rights.

St. Augustine was a testing ground. Can the Deep South change?

Could southern states maintain law and order in the face of change?

Could local citizens, black and white, work together to make democ-

racy a reality throughout America? These were the questions the

nonviolent movement sought to answer with a resounding: "Yes—

God willing!"

Once in St. Augustine, SCLC uncovered a sore of hatred, violence,

and ignorance which spread its venom throughout the business and

political hfe of Florida and reached subtly into the White House. St.

Augustine's 3,700 Negro citizens waged a heroic campaign in the

midst of savage violence and brutality condoned and committed by

police. We faced some lawlessness and violence that we hadn't faced

before, even in Birmingham. Night after night, Negroes marched by

the hundreds amidst showers of bricks, bottles, and insults. Day by

day, Negroes confronted restaurants, beaches, and the Slave Market

where they spoke and sang of their determination to be free.

After several months of raging violence, in which more than

three hundred SCLC-led demonstrators were arrested and scores of

others injured by Klansmen wielding tire chains and other weapons,

we were able to proclaim a relative victory in that rock-bound bas-

tion of segregation and discrimination.

In combination with the local defense fund, we began to pave

the way for compliance with the civil rights bill and rush through its

passage. The legal and action strategies together had given us a body

of precedent for dealing with hard-core communities who allowed

vigilante mobs to preserve the Old South traditions.

We communicated with state and federal officials concerning

conditions in St. Augustine. After tireless efforts, we succeeded in

getting the governor of the state to persuade four distinguished citi-

zens of St. Augustine to serve on a biracial committee to discuss

ways to solve the racial problems of St. Augustine. In order to dem-

onstrate our good faith, and show that we were not seeking to wreck

St. Augustine, as some mistakenly believed, we agreed to call off

demonstrations while the committee sought to work out a settle-

ment. As the saying goes, "Every thousand-mile journey begins with

the first step." This development was merely the first step in a long

journey toward freedom and justice in St. Augustine, but it was an

important first step, for it at least opened the channels of communi-

cation—something that St. Augustine needed for so long.

When we left St. Augustine, we were about to get a civil rights

bill that would become the law of the land. The Civil Rights Act was

signed by President Lyndon Johnson two days before the Fourth of

July. The businessmen in St. Augustine said before we left that they

would comply with the civil rights bill, and we were very happy

about this. It represented a degree of progress, and I said to myself

maybe St. Augustine is now coming to terms with its conscience.

"A legislative achievement of rare quality"

Both houses of Congress approved a monumental, indeed, historic

affirmation of Jefferson's ringing truth that "all men are created

equal." First recommended and promoted by President Kennedy,

this bill was passed because of the overwhelming support and perse-

verance of milhons of Americans, Negro and white. It came as a

bright interlude in the long and sometimes turbulent struggle for

civil rights: the beginning of a second emancipation proclamation

providing a comprehensive legal basis for equality of opportunity.

With the bill's passage, we stood at an auspicious position, a mo-

mentous time for thanksgiving and rededication, rather than intoxi-

cation and relaxation. The bill was born of the "blood, sweat, toil,

and tears" of countless congressmen of both major parties, legions

of amateur lobbyists, and great volumes of grassroots sentiment.

Supporters, black and white, did themselves honor as they sowed the

seeds of protest and political persuasion, reaping this glorious har-

vest in law. Furthermore, the bill's germination could be traced to

the Negro revolt of 1963, epitomized in Birmingham's fire hoses,

police dogs, and thousands of "not-to-be-denied" demonstrations;

to the massive militancy of the majestic March on Washington; to a

martyred President; to his successor, a Southern-sired President who

carried on and enhanced the Kennedy legacy; and to the memories

of bygone martyrs whose blood was shed so that America might find

remission for her sins of segregation.

I had been fortunate enough to meet Lyndon Johnson during his

tenure as vice president. He was not then a presidential aspirant, and

he was searching for his role under a man who not only had a four-

year term to complete but was confidently expected to serve out yet

another term as chief executive. Therefore, the essential issues were

easier to reach, and were unclouded by political considerations.

His approach to the problem of civil rights was not identical with

mine—nor had I expected it to be. Yet his careful practicality was

nonetheless clearly no mask to conceal indifference. His emotional

and intellectual involvement were genuine and devoid of adorn-

ment. It was conspicuous that he was searching for a solution to a

problem he knew to be a major shortcoming in American Hfe. I

came away strengthened in my conviction that an undifferentiated

approach to white Southerners could be a grave error, all too easy

for Negro leaders in the heat of bitterness. Later, it was Vice Presi-

dent Johnson I had in mind when I wrote in The Nation that the

white South was splitting, and that progress could be furthered by

driving a wedge between the rigid segregationists and the new white

elements whose love of their land was stronger than the grip of old

habits and customs.

The dimensions of Johnson's leadership spread from a region to

a nation. His expressions, public and private, indicated that he had

a comprehensive grasp of contemporary problems. He saw that pov-

erty and unemployment were grave and growing catastrophes, and

he was aware that those caught most fiercely in the grip of this eco-

nomic holocaust were Negroes. Therefore, he had set the twin goal

of a battle against discrimination within the war on poverty.

I had no doubt that we might continue to differ concerning the

tempo and the tactical design required to combat the impending

crisis. But I did not doubt that the President was approaching the

solution with sincerity, with realism, and thus far with wisdom. I

hoped his course would be straight and true. I would do everything

in my power to make it so by outspoken agreement whenever

proper, and determined opposition whenever necessary.

I had the good fortune of standing there with President Johnson

when he signed that bill. Certainly one of the things that I will hold

among my most cherished possessions is the pen that President

Johnson used to sign this bill. It was a great moment. The legislature

had joined the judiciary's long line of decisions invalidating state-

compelled segregation, and the office of the President with its great

tradition of executive actions, including Lincoln's Emancipation

Proclamation, Roosevelt's war decree banning employment discrim-

ination, Truman's mandate ending segregated Armed Forces units,

and Kennedy's order banning discrimination in federally aided

housing.

"Legislation was first written in the streets"

Would the slower processes of legislation and law enforcement

ultimately have accomplished greater results more painlessly? Dem-

onstrations, experience has shown, are part of the process of stimu-

lating legislation and law enforcement. The federal government

reacts to events more quickly when a situation of conflict cries out

for its intervention. Beyond this, demonstrations have a creative ef-

fect on the social and psychological climate that is not matched by

the legislative process. Those who have lived under the corrosive

humiliation of daily intimidation are imbued by demonstrations

with a sense of courage and dignity that strengthen their personali-

ties. Through demonstrations, Negroes learn that unity and mili-

tance have more force than bullets. They find that the bruises of

clubs, electric cattle prods, and fists hurt less than the scars of sub-

mission. And segregationists learn from demonstrations that Ne-

groes who have been taught to fear can also be taught to be fearless.

Finally, the millions of Americans on the sidelines learn that inhu-

manity wears an official badge and wields the power of law in large

areas of the democratic nation of their pride.

What specifically did we accomplish in 1963-64? The Civil

Rights Act of 1964 is important even beyond its far-reaching provi-

sions. It is historic because its enhancement was generated by a mas-

sive coalition of white and Negro forces. Congress was aroused from

a century of slumber to a legislative achievement of rare quality.

These multitudinous sponsors to its enactment explain why sections

of the Civil Rights Act were complied with so hastily even in some

hard-core centers of the South.

The Civil Rights Act was expected by many to suffer the fate of

the Supreme Court decisions on school desegregation. In particular,

it was thought that the issue of public accommodations would en-

counter massive defiance. But this pessimism overlooked a factor of

supreme importance. The legislation was not a product of the char-

ity of white America for a supine black America, nor was it the result

of enlightened leadership by the judiciary. This legislation was first

written in the streets. The epic thrust of the millions of Negroes who

demonstrated in 1963 in hundreds of cities won strong white alhes

to the cause. Together they created a "coalition of conscience" which

awoke a hitherto somnolent Congress. The legislation was polished

and refined in the marble halls of Congress, but the vivid marks of

its origin in the turmoil of mass meetings and marches were on it,

and the vigor and momentum of its turbulent birth carried past the

voting and insured substantial compliance.

Apart from its own provisions, the new law stimulated and fo-

cused attention on economic needs. An assault on poverty was

planned. The fusing of economic measures with civil rights needs;

the boldness to penetrate every region of the Old South; and the

undergirding of the whole by the massive Negro vote, both North

and South, all placed the freedom struggle on a new elevated
23

THE MISSISSIPPI

CHALLENGE

The future of the United States of America may well be determined

here, in Mississippi, for it is here that Democracy faces its most seri-

ous challenge. Can we have government in Mississippi which repre-

sents all of the people? This is the question that must be answered in

the affirmative if these United States are to continue to give moral

leadership to the Free World.

JUNE 21, 1964

On the eve of the "Freedom Summer" campaign in Mississippi,

three civil rights workers are reported missing after their arrest in

Philadelphia, Mississippi

JULY 16

Republicans will aid racists

JULY 21

Arrives in Mississippi to assist civil rights effort

The bodies of missing civil rights workers are discovered

AUGUST 22

Testifies at Democratic convention on behalf of Mississippi

Freedom Democratic Party

In 1964 the meaning of so-called Negro revolution became clear

for all to see and was given legislative recognition in the civil

rights law. Yet, immediately following the passage of this law, a series

of events shook the nation, compelling the grim realization that the

revolution would continue inexorably until total slavery had been

replaced by total freedom.

The new events to which I refer were: the Republican Conven-

tion held in San Francisco; the hideous triple lynchings in Missis-

sippi; and the outbreak of riots in several Northern cities.

The Republican Party geared its appeal and program to racism,

reaction, and extremism. All people of goodwill viewed with alarm

and concern the frenzied wedding at the Cow Palace of the KKK

with the radical right. The "best man" at this ceremony was a sena-

tor whose voting record, philosophy, and program were anathema

to all the hard-won achievements of the past decade.

It was both unfortunate and disastrous that the Republican Party

nominated Barry Goldwater as its candidate for President of the

United States. In foreign policy Mr. Goldwater advocated a narrow

nationalism, a crippling isolationism, and a trigger-happy attitude

that could plunge the whole world into the dark abyss of annihila-

tion. On social and economic issues, Mr. Goldwater represented an

unrealistic conservatism that was totally out of touch with the reali-

ties of the twentieth century. The issue of poverty compelled the

attention of all citizens of our country. Senator Goldwater had nei-

ther the concern nor the comprehension necessary to grapple with

this problem of poverty in the fashion that the historical moment

dictated. On the urgent issue of civil rights, Senator Goldwater rep-

resented a philosophy that was morally indefensible and socially sui-

cidal. While not himself a racist, Mr. Goldwater articulated a

philosophy which gave aid and comfort to the racist. His candidacy

and philosophy would serve as an umbrella under which extremists

of all stripes would stand. In the light of these facts and because of

my love for America, I had no alternative but to urge every Negro

and white person of goodwill to vote aga^inst Mr. Goldwater and to

withdraw support from any Republican/candidate that did not pub-

licly disassociate himself from Senator Goldwater and his philos-

ophy. /

dates, I felt that the prospect of Senator Goldwater being President

of the United States so threatened the health, morality, and survival

of our nation, that I could not in good conscience fail to take a stand

against what he represented.

The celebration of final enactment of the civil rights bill curdled

and soured. Rejoicing was replaced by a deep and frightening con-

cern that the counter-forces to Negro liberation could flagrantly

nominate for the highest office in the land one who openly clasped

the racist hand of Strom Thurmond. A cold fear touched the hearts

of twenty million Negroes. They had only begun to come out of the

dark land of Egypt where so many of their brothers were still in

bondage—still denied elementary dignity. The forces to bar the free-

dom road, to drive us back to Egypt, seemed so formidable, so high

in authority, and so determined.

"Mississippi's New Negroes"

A handsome young Negro, dressed in slacks and short-sleeve shirt,

wiped his brow and addressed the police chief, "Now look here,

chief, there's no need in trying to blow at us. Everybody scared of

white folks has moved north, and you just as well realize that you've

got to do right by the rest of us."

This comment by Aaron Henry of Clarksdale, Mississippi, was

typical of Mississippi's New Negroes. And in spite of the threat of

death, economic reprisals, and continuous intimidation, they were

pressing hard toward the high call of freedom.

The remarkable thing was that the Negro in Mississippi had

found for himself an effective way to deal with his problems and had

organized efforts across the entire state. As part of SCLC's "people-

to-people" program, several members of our staff and I had traveled

the fertile and sometimes depressing Mississippi Delta country in

1962. That trip provided me with an opportunity to talk with thou-

sands of people on a personal basis. I talked with them on the farms

and in the village stores, on the city streets and in the city churches.

I listened to their problems, learned of their fears, felt the yearnings