I am continuing my recollections of the jam-packed Martin Luther King weekend.  This is the third and final component that details the impressions from our trip to Selma, Montgomery, Birmingham, and Atlanta.  Monday, I provided background and our Montgomery meanderings.  Yesterday, we spoke about our first 15 hours or so in Selma.

We left the National Park “Interpretive Center”  (it’s not shown, but it’s exactly opposite the Rexall Drug store above) and walked to the start of the matter.  The Brown AME (African Methodist Episcopalian) Church.

This building served as the Selma headquarters for the SCLC (the Southern Christian leadership Council), the organization forged by the Montgomery Bus Boycott by the Reverends King and Ralph Abernathy, along with Bayard Rustin and Ella Baker (both from New York City).  Dr. King was the founding president and Ms. Baker the first (and only- for a very long time) staff member.  (You might, from the picture above, notice how many Southern synagogues resembled churches…)

I was pleased when Joanne asked us to refrain from singing as we marched the Selma streets.  (Many of us had just learned [some of us were just retrained] the songs of the movement.)  I felt it was an appropriation of a symbol belonging to those who had given so much to make the modest change that came about by this struggle.

Ms. Bland also mentioned that this church area was a safe place to plan and start the Selma to Montgonery March because decades earlier the US government had built (what we call Section 8) residences all around.  So, there was no way folks could approach the church without being seen.

From the steps of the church (from whence Dr. King and Rabbi Heschel began the March), we walked to the Edmund Pettus bridge.  It was hard crossing the bridge (over the Alabama River); with our knowledge of the beatings the police and populace provided the first groups who tried to start the march was overwhelming.  Once we crossed the bridge, we immediately turned around and continued to the site where the Reverend James Reeb was attacked.  (He had just left the Oneal’s Restaurant, one of the few integrated facilities, the site of which is where the “interpretive center” currently sits).

Another unfortunate lesson.  Despite the efforts of King, Heschel, Abernathy, the SCLC, SNCC (Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee), the NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People), CORE (Congress of Racial Equality), the pivotal moment in the Civil Rights struggle was the murder of the white man, the Reverend Reed, after the brutal attack on him and two other ministers by the terrorists. Because that is when White America began really paying attention.  And, within 5 months, the Voter’s Rights Act of 1965 became the law of the land.

I can’t forget to mention one other key lesson Joanne left with us. (Hint to those who think the Women’s March this past weekend can have any lasting significance.) The 3M’s for a successful change process.  The first is money.  And, when the Reverend King came to Selma, he was able to bring money and donations.  The second is motivation.  If you’ve never heard Dr. King speak, you’ve missed a lot.  The final necessary ‘m’ is media.  And, you can bet that Dr.King, Rabbi Heschel, and all the other Civil Rights leaders garnered the attention of the media.

(I also recalled this lesson from my 60’s activist days!  And, to be honest, by my father’s efforts to help Israel after it was attacked on the Yom Kipur War.  Except in his case it was backwards- he got the media, provided the motivation (yes, my father was one heck of a rabbinical presence- even though he had resigned the rabbinate decades earlier)- and that’s how the money was raised- and sent immediately- to Israel.)

At this point, we returned to the synagogue for the afternoon prayers.  Where we said goodbye to our gracious hosts at Mishkan Israel.  But, we still had one more stop to make in Selma.  The Jackson House.

Joanna Jackson graciously had driven from her home in Atlanta to open up the historic house for us to experience more history.  Here was the Reverend King’s home in Selma.  (OK, not his home, but where he stayed, as a guest of the Jackson family.)   So did Rabbi Heschel.  As did many other leaders of the Civil Rights movement.  The visit to this home put the human touch on all these folks.

After our visit to the Jackson house, we walked back to our hotels.  (This was also the final time the Selma police would be providing us escorts around town.)  As we walked back to our hotels, it was evident that Selma was in trouble.  Almost every other building was in disrepair- broken windows, boarded up buildings, vacant lots.  This city of 20,000 or so (70% of whom are Black) only has an International Paper Mill (whose pungent odor and frequent toxic effluent leave the residents ill), plus a slew of fast food joints, tire centers, and similar businesses to proffer employment.  Most of the younger generation has departed because of the lack of gainful employment.  With many residents travelling 50+ miles to Montgomery to earn subsistence wages.

Many of us engaged the folks we saw on the street, wishing them well, having quick conversations.  I won’t forget the young kids screaming to their friends and family to come see all these white folks from DC visiting.  Who were here to honor their family’s relatives who participated in the civil rights efforts of the 50s and 60s.

After concluding Shabat (ma’ariv and havdala) services, we journeyed to Birmingham.  Our first stop was the 16^th Street Baptist Church where four young girls, Addie Mae Collins, Carole Robertson, Cynthia Wesley and Denise McNair, were murdered by another group of American terrorists.  (19 other children were badly hurt by these crazed folks.)

 

 

 

 

Most of us did not know that President Obama had just declared the site a national monument.  A local character (you can barely see him in the leftmost picture above) wanted to join us for prayer (although his prayer, while heartfelt, was not among the words we wished to offer).  We then listened to Joan Baez’ rendition of her brother’s (Richard Farina) song, “Birmingham Sunday” about the bombing.

From there, we journeyed to Kneset Israel, an orthodox synagogue in Birmingham, where we were regaled with pizza, salad, and potatoes.  (What’s with this fascination with potatoes?)  All part of the Melava Malka (escorting the queen), the special evening meal after the Sabbath (Shabat).

We returned to Selma around midnight.  Which also meant I reached my hotel closer to 1:30… Obviously, I not only walked about 30 miles this weekend, but it’s a good thing I never need hours of sleep.  (However, with the higher temperatures, I do need more!)

At 6:30 the next morning, my arranged taxi cab ride was not to be.  So, Kranisha Gill, the front desk manager of the Hampton Inn, graciously agreed to leave the hotel to drive me over to the Quality Inn.  Where I joined the study of the daily page of Talmud, followed by the morning prayers.

We all piled back into our charter buses for the trip to Atlanta- the site of the Martin Luther King Memorial.  For about an hour, we watched a movie, perused the exhibits, and offered a prayer at the dual graves of the Reverend and his wife, Coretta.

 

 

 

We were done- almost.  We picked up our lunches to eat on the way to Hartsfield Airport (Atlanta) for our return home.

Now, that was a busy weekend.  And, one we will remember for a long, long time.

Hopefully, the concept of equal rights, fair voting, and reasonable wages is something my grandchild (and, hopefully, grandchildren) will only read about in books- not experience or see first-hand.