SFGate/ReaderSupportedNews
The buses finally arrived on October 15th, 2011.
Mostly chartered or owned by churches, they carried hundreds of devoted people from Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia and Florida. Weary travelers with swollen feet and sleepy eyes gingerly navigated the bus steps. Fifty years of waiting—no need to break a hip now. They’d risked their lives and done their marching. Besides, Dr. King was still dead.
Grandmothers and great-grandmothers blinked into the hot sunlight, many wearing those thick support stockings that clump up around the ankles. They never thought they would see the day when they’d stand on Washington, D.C.’s Capitol Mall to honor their life-long hero.
Slowly craning their arthritic necks…and there it was, big as God.
A thirty foot tall granite statue of Martin Luther King Jr., the civil rights leader who stole their hearts, gave them hope and then, with his sudden assassination, took much of their youthful hope to the grave. But now, stark and fresh against the sky, he seemed almost reborn.
It had been a long journey of fight and flight.
A “wall of inscriptions” surrounded the celebrants in the warm embrace of Dr. King’s words. The first of fourteen quotes came from the “I Have a Dream” speech. Delivered on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, those famous words rang out from America’s national pulpit. That was back when most of these travelers were young and still living in bulwarks of Jim Crow—places like Montgomery, and Selma.
Change is slow. Deadly slow.
“Good spot for Dr. King.”
The elderly lady pointed her cane toward the memorial as she spoke.
“Perfect, symbolic symmetry,” I responded.
And it was. There was Dr. King’s giant likeness not only keeping company with—but standing tall and proud between—Lincoln and Jefferson.
Still pointing her cane in the air…she did a grand sweep around and asked, “Now, honey, which one is Jefferson?”
“There to the right, that’s Thomas Jefferson’s memorial and, of course, to the left of Dr. King’s statue is Abraham Lincoln’s memorial. If you stand ‘just so,’ you can see the Washington Monument, too.”
“Dr. King is so white,” she said.
I’d not noticed the lightish color of the granite before. But she certainly did. Clearly pain, suffering and betrayal made it impossible for her to ignore it. But world paradigms have shifted. Case in point: Dr. King’s “Stone of Hope“ was made in China. That made the next quote we read on the “inscription wall” even more ironic:
"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly."
Dr. King’s “single garment” quote now spanned the ages and the continents.
“Well, darlin’, see you tomorrow.” The elderly lady smiled.
Her eyes had gone milky. The “tired feel” about her worried me some.
We both knew we’d most likely never meet again, but we’d both be back the next day.
October 16th—the alarm in my hotel sounded at 4a.m. By 5:30am, hundreds stood in line, waiting patiently for the Martin Luther King Jr. “dedication service” to begin some four hours later. Steady patience was not unfamiliar to this crowd. The line circled around and in front of the Lincoln Memorial. Old Abe would have gotten a kick out of that.
Expecting big colorful church hats on the legions of Southern women, picking a good unobstructed view might get tricky. People came early not only to honor Dr. King, but because the line-up of entertainers and speakers was stunning.
Actress Cicely Tyson, Reverends Joe Lowrey and Jesse Jackson
Former U.N. Ambassador Andrew Young
Two of Dr. King’s children
Dan Rather—journalism’s firsthand witness
Stevie Wonder and Aretha Franklin, James Taylor, and Hip-Hop violinist,Miri Ben Ari
Each speaker and singer reminded us that at times of upheaval, the good and the bad seem disconcertingly close together. The common denominator among the speeches was that there is even more upheaval to come. Especially now, when much of White America finally felt the same disfranchisement endured for so long by Black America.
After finding a coveted seat, the man to my right got up and moved from his.
To my left sat a woman from Atlanta. She was warm and sturdy as a California redwood forest. She held my hand whenever I needed hers. Soon, another woman took the vacated seat to the right. Like the man before her, she did not respond when I said hello.
Finally, President Obama and his family arrived at the end of what felt like a very long and inspirational prayer meeting. Aretha Franklin had just regaled us with one of Dr. King’s favorite gospel songs, and that’s when we all heard the beginning of the chant. It was predictable.
“Four more years. Four more years. Four more years.”
The chant continued for several minutes. The President, still basking in the glow of Aretha Franklin’s gospel song, appeared to be praying. Perhaps he basked, too, in those three encouraging words. Who would ever want his job following the Bush years? Mr. Obama looked twenty years older since getting elected.
I’m not sure what came over me. I’ve been an observer (reporter) all of my adult life. But, on this day, standing in the shadow of a memorial of one man who changed a nation, my heart took control of my head. Loud enough for our half Irish/half African-American president to hear—I began shouting three different words to the rhythm of “four more years.”
“Be like him. Be like him. Be like him!”
Now, the woman who’d refused to look at me, and the man who had moved when I sat down, both examined me closely. Then the damndest thing happened. They started chanting, too. Before long, several rows shouted loud as thunder:
“Be like him, Be like him!”
We screamed ourselves hoarse as more people joined us.
There on the inscription wall Dr. King’s words read:
"Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that."
We screamed louder.
“Be like him. Be like him!”
…In order to form a more perfect union, establish justice…
“Be Like him. Be like him.”
…Insure domestic Tranquility…
The elderly man, who at first refused to sit by me, now screamed louder.
“Be Like him! Be like him!”
“Do you think the president heard us?” He later asked.
It’s a question Dr. King must have asked himself millions of times. Was anyone listening?
“It’s not called the Stone of Hope for no reason,” I said.
He finally smiled.
