Martin Luther King

Martin Luther King was assassinated in Memphis, TN while I was living there. My introduction to southern culture was impacting after having lived in mostly Northern Midwestern cities for the part of my life that led up to my move to Memphis in 1964. I was not ready for the blatant outward and obvious prejudice I ran into when I arrived. At the theater there were two entrances. One in the front under a smart marquis for whites only and the other around the side and down the street that only led to the second balcony. This was the “colored” entrance. They also had their own concession counter and bathrooms. Laundromats were for whites on one side and blacks on the other side behind a wall. They had separate entrances also. White and black drinking fountains. “White only” signs were on the doors to restaurants, clubs, schools, bowling alleys, and roller skating rinks. It was a different time then.

It is not that there wasn’t prejudice up North. It is just that it was subtler. But tension was high that spring in Memphis. The garbage men were on strike. All they wanted was the minimum wage everybody else in the U.S. had. Garbage collection in Memphis was a black only job and the pay was very sub-standard. So they went on strike. King came to town to show support for this event. Then they killed him.

That night a neighbor in our apartment complex came over and knocked on my door. He came to give me a pistol. He thought I would need it to defend myself before the night was over because the tension for a black revolution was over the top. Shear ugly hate and rage was everywhere. I was puzzled by my neighbor’s viewpoint. He was a good reflection of most normal Memphis white citizens that night but I didn’t run with their crowd.

I handed his pistol back to him and told him that I didn’t think it would come to that. He looked puzzled and went back home. I went back into my apartment and watched the events on TV and wept. It seems like murder and hate was everywhere. Viet Nam, assassinations, weathermen, panthers, and other ugly Americans.

The “summer of love” came next. Most of my generation just wanted it all to be over. I imagine that this is a little bit how it must feel in Iraq these days. Ugly hate and rage. I pray tonight for them and their upcoming election.