Weary Feet, Rested Souls

I woke up this morning with lots on my mind mid-trip. Not so surprising, there was as much not necessarily related to the trip that had me a little distracted. My oldest daughter, Elly, is taking her North Carolina Fourth Grade writing test today--Good Luck, Elly. My mom's birthday is today--Happy Birthday, Neta! I'm starting to miss my wife more as the days go by--we are seldom apart for long periods of time. What brought me back to the task at hand was my youngest daughter, Sarah. She's in kindergarten and last week learned for the first time the significance of Rosa Parks and the Montgomery Bus Boycott. So, I felt obligated to be mentally engaged as the group tours the major landmarks of the boycott era.

But, again, I'll get personal and admit that I'm pretty tired at this point. I haven't necessarily slept well, even in our comfortable hotel accommodations. My back is a little stiff from logging several hours on the bus. My feet ache from the walking and standing. . . . And, yes, I realize how selfish these thoughts are in light of where I am today. Black Montgomery residents made a calculated decision to sacrifice more than I could imagine over the course of the year beginning December 1, 1955. Finding creative alternatives to bus travel proved just the start. But, in spite of this sacrifice and suffering, the community galvanizing around the push for Civil Rights and shared the spirit that one participant voiced, saying her "feet were tired, but her soul was rested."

Julian Bond set up our day with a lecture/narrative of the bus boycott. He described it as the "most studied event of the movement--a perfect case study for beginnings, evolution/growth, and success." Montgomery, he argued, possessed the dynamics necessary for a successful movement: pre-existing social organizations to provide stability, catalytic leadership, the ability to tap outside resources, and a distinct strategy.

Fortunately, Montgomery is mindful of its historical significance and has a well-preserved set of sites to guide students, scholars, and tourists through the past.

Our first stop was the parsonage of the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church. The home has been preserved to the way it looked in the mid-1950s when a 25-year old Martin Luther King, Jr. was called to serve the church. It has original and replica furniture that provides a true sense of how the young King family spent both private time as well as pivotal moments organizing the boycott. What stuck me most about the home was the close proximity to the road (Jackson Street). That reality explained why the segregationists who bombed the home in 1956 were able to get away so easily.

We then proceeded to the Dexter Avenue King Memorial Baptist Church--just a little more than a mile toward the downtown area from the parsonage and quite literally a stone's throw away from the Alabama state capital. Our tour guides explained to us that you could stand in the front doorway of Dexter and be in sight of a former location of antebellum slave trading, Jefferson Davis's inaugural site as president of the Confederacy in 1861, and also be standing on the very site of a former slave pen--now church property.

Once inside the sanctuary, I was struck by the intimacy of the place. It was warm and inviting. If the others in the group were anything like me, they were playing the speeches and sermons of Dr. King in their heads and imagining him standing in the pulpit, making the case for the boycott, instructing those in the audience about the philosophy and value of nonviolence, and looking forward to the day where justice could no longer be denied.

The final stop in the bus boycott tour was the Rosa Parks Library and Museum directed by Troy University. Of the three locations, this was by far the most compelling for me. It was an innovative take on presenting the story of the boycott with Parks as the focal point. After some introductory community "voices" from the era, visitors are led into a room made to look like the Montgomery street corner (at Montgomery and Lee) where Parks boarded the city bus on December 1, 1955 and refused to give up her seat. An inventive technological set up allows patrons to have a feel for the size of and actual bus, while a video drama plays out the situation that led to her arrest.

The final large room of the museum plays out the stages of the boycott in meticulous fashion. An amazing collection of primary documents dot the walls that engages visitors in the unfolding history. Moreover, an informative and engaging staff provide the necessary context to help filter through the mass of material in the museum. They rightly touch on Parks as a catalyst and King as a leader, but do not fail to give credit to JoAnn Robinson and the Women's Political Council, Fred Gray's legal savvy, the organization of carpooling circles, and the willingness of thousands of Black Montgomery workers to rely on their feet.

All totaled, Bond reminded us that the greatest effect of the boycott was its ability to bring King to the nation and force the national media to pick up on the story of desegregation efforts in the South. Interestingly, but not surprising, when asked by one of the group the knowledge and interest that Bond himself had in the boycott, he replied that it was interesting, but distant, even foreign. Not so unusual for a 15-year old kid living in Pennsylvania. Bond told the group that the lynching of Emmett Till in Money, Mississippi earlier in 1955 had a greater influence. He and Till were the same age.


Each day thus far for me has had that one significantly moving experience. Without a doubt it was our trip to the Civil Rights Memorial Center of the Southern Poverty Law Center. The center is no more than a block behind the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church. I have admired the vision and work of Morris Dees, Joe Levin, and their associates for a long time. We stood around the memorial outside the center for some time. There, Mr. Levin and Bond explained the design of Maya Lin and encouraged the group to engage with the piece that "chronicles the modern Civil Rights Movement and recognizes the deaths of 40 individuals killed during the struggle."


Inside, current president Richard Cohen gave a talk on the history of the SPLC and accounted the significant leadership of past president Julian Bond and former legal counsel Pamela Horowitz (Bond's wife, who also happens to a key member of our trip). The exhibits inside the center are heart wrenching and moving. They detail the stories of many of the horrific deaths of Civil Rights activists and others killed simply for what they looked like or what they represented. But the SPLC and Civil Rights Memorial Center also offers the opportunity for visitors to make a statement and become part of the Wall of Tolerance--a large room with a cascading list of names. These names represent individuals who have made a commitment to "work in their daily lives for justice, equality and human rights." Seeing my name drift down that wall alongside my travel companions--folks I did not know before Saturday--and hundreds of people I may never know was the most moving thing I've done this week (and that's saying a lot). It was the first time that I've felt directly connected to the legacy of the movement. Before, I have been a student or teacher of this compelling past. Now and in the future, through this simple, yet heartfelt gesture, I am also a participant.