Tasting Life Twice

Missing Missouri

After 1,989 miles of driving, hundreds of songs from the iPod and countless thousands of southern-fried calories, we finally made it back to campus!  On the way out of Memphis we drove by Graceland, home to Elvis Presley, and then left the land of the delta blues bound for home.   We made one stop along the way, at Lambert’s Cafe in Sikeston, MO.  The ladies enjoyed catching throwed rolls flung from across the room.  Lambert’s Cafe is recognized as one of the ten great places in America to take an exit off the road for some good eatin’.  We all agreed.

Ashley and Liz pointing the way to Lambert's Cafe

We left on our trip in search of stories.  And we found them.  Stories of a people who struggled for freedom and equality.  Stories of a movement that shook up our nation and called us back to the lofty ideal of “liberty and justice for all”.   Stories of the many small gestures and daring acts which went into breaking the bonds of oppression and liberating the imagination to believe in a better tomorrow.

Over the next few weeks, I’ll add some final images and insights from Woods Around the World 2009: Following the Civil Rights Trail.

Walking in Memphis

On Day Five we drove from Birmingham to Memphis.  We didn’t have time to visit any of the sites or museums in Alabama’s largest city but we did read excerpts from King’s "Letter from a Birmingham Jail".  King was jailed here in 1963, leading a movement to desegregate the city’s public facilities.  While being detained, he wrote a response to eight white clergymen who had publicly criticized his street protests and wanted the matter to be settled in the courts.  King responded:

Perhaps it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging dark of segregation to say, "Wait." But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate-filled policemen curse, kick and even kill your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six-year-old daughter why she can’t go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to distort her personality by developing an unconscious bitterness toward white people; when you have to concoct an answer for a five-year-old son who is asking: "Daddy, why do white people treat colored people so mean?"; when you take a cross-country drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading "white" and "colored"; when your first name becomes "nigger," your middle name becomes "boy" (however old you are) and your last name becomes "John," and your wife and mother are never given the respected title "Mrs."; when you are harried by day and haunted by night by the fact that you are a Negro, living constantly at tiptoe stance, never quite knowing what to expect next, and are plagued with inner fears and outer resentments; when you go forever fighting a degenerating sense of "nobodiness" then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait. There comes a time when the cup of endurance runs over, and men are no longer willing to be plunged into the abyss of despair. I hope, sirs, you can understand our legitimate and unavoidable impatience.

At midday we took a stretch break in Tupelo, Mississippi, birthplace of Elvis Presley.  Driving in to town, we listened to Van Morrison’s "Tupelo Honey" and a few songs from the king of rock and roll himself.  At one point, I thought I was driving through a Kansas twister as the van began swaying on the road while the girls were gyrating to "Jailhouse Rock." We took a quick walk through the park area, looking at Presley’s humble childhood home and the Assembly of God Church where he used to sing hymns and spirituals.

We arrived in Memphis listening to Marc Cohn’s "Walking in Memphis".  We toured the National Civil Rights Museum, located at the Lorraine Motel, where King was shot on April 4, 1968.  King was in town to protest the unjust treatment of the Memphis sanitation workers.  The night before his death, he gave a famous sermon at the Mason Temple, uttering those memorable words:

"He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you," he said, "but I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land."

The museum is an impressive facility which tells the story of the "struggle" for freedom, going all the way back to 1619 and the arrival of African slaves in America.  Visitors can see various interactive displays including a city bus (telling the story of Rosa Parks), a lunch counter and a Memphis sanitation truck.   There are lots of audio and video presentations as well as important mementos of the movement.

The museum leads up to Room 306 of the Lorraine Motel where King was staying during his visit to Memphis.  The room has been kept similar to how it looked when King was there.  A wreath has been placed on the balcony outside his room, marking the last place where he stood.  Across the street, visitors can learn how the movement has continued with a wall honoring those who have won Freedom Awards.  Conspiracy theorists will love the boardinghouse floor which tells the story of James Earl Ray’s assassination of King, the state’s case in prosecuting Ray and the alternative explanations to who killed King.

After touring the center, we made another road trip.  We drove an hour away to Jackson, TN to watch our William Woods girls’ team play in the national championship tournament.  Unfortunately, we were only able to see the last 8 minutes of the game, but we did do a spirited job of yelling and screaming and letting them know we were there.  The Owls lost a close game which ended their season.  But I have a good feeling they’ll be back again next year.

We drove back to Memphis to eat a late supper at the Hard Rock Cafe on historic Beale Street.  It was a long day and the troops were tired but we heard some soulful sounds and had some fun people-watching before calling it a day.

Rumors that the Garmin wasn’t working and that I was lost are just that – rumors.  As we prepare to make our way back to Boone County, I refer the kind reader to what the patron saint of male drivers once said.  Daniel Boone, when asked if he ever got lost in all of his extensive travels, simply replied: "I can’t say as ever I was lost, but I was a might bit bewildered once for three days." Today, as we return to Fulton, listening to Michael Buble’s "Home" and catching throwed rolls at Lambert’s Cafe, I will proudly wear my t-shirt which reads: "not all who wander are lost."  And if the women decide they haven’t done enough power shopping and wish to do more, I will kindly oblige.  They won’t know that today begins March Madness and I will patiently be waiting for them in a pub, watching the first round games of the NCAA basketball tournament.

A Bridge to Somewhere

We drove through rain, yet again, but finally found sunshine in Selma, Alabama.  Selma is a small town on Highway 80, 54 miles away from Montgomery.  This stretch of pavement is one of the most important roads in the United States, marking the path of the march from Selma to Montgomery in 1965.  After young Jimmy Lee Jackson was killed by an Alabama state trooper in February of that year, activists decided to march all the way to Montgomery as a memorial to Jackson and as an appeal to the conscience of a nation that blacks be given the freedom to vote.

In March of ’65, a group of 600 marchers prepared to walk across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in route to Montgomery when they were met by state troopers.  Law enforcement pushed back the marchers with billy clubs and tear gas, beating the protesters in an event remembered as “Sunday Bloody Sunday“.  A few days later, Martin Luther King arrived in town to lead another march across the bridge.  Only this time, King had negotiated with federal authorities to only go halfway, stop, pray and return back to the Selma side of the Alabama River, a day known as “Turnaround Tuesday”.

Eventually, King and his fellow activists received court approval to make the walk to Montgomery under protection from federal troops.  The marchers walked for five days, singing songs along the way and camping along the road.  The media coverage of Sunday Bloody Sunday began to stir up the moral outrage of the nation and later in that same year, President Lyndon B. Johnson signed into law the Voting Rights Act which removed discriminatory voting restrictions.

Today we spent a lot of time on the streets of Selma.  Our guide, JoAnne Bland, was a young schoolgirl in 1965 when she was arrested for her participation in the movement.  JoAnne took us for a walk around town, telling us the story of Selma’s history and introducing us to the people who call the place home.  She took us to one stretch of pavement, in the housing projects near Brown Chapel and told each of us to pick up a rock or pebble and hold it in our hand.  Then she proceeded to tell us what the rocks meant, narrating the stories of some of the participants who marched to the bridge on that awful Sunday in March.  “That rock you have in your hand is my sister.  She was 14 at the time….”  She would go on tell us that each of these foot soldiers, “just ordinary people”, stood where we were standing.

JoAnne is a dynamic, unforgettable personality,who had us laughing as well as learning from her memories of the town.  She is still grappling with the horror of what happened 44 years ago, but determined to bring about the kind of future where such Sundays never happen again. Here’s a sample of what JoAnne had to say to us:

We spent half the day with her, visiting churches and museums, hotels and restaurants and the Old Live Oak Cemetery.  We ate a  wonderful southern style lunch at a black-owned restaurant, which happens to be the last place that white minister James Reeb ate before he was beaten and attacked for supporting the Civil Rights Movement.  And we got an impromptu concert from a talented singer at The Book of David barbershop.

Here is a picture of our crew in front of the Edmund Pettus Bridge:

And, as a final postscript to the day, I should tell you that over the past few days I have grown tired of the girls shopping, asking me to carry their bags here and there, complaining about the cold and then the heat.  So I decided to go down to Washington’s Street Supermarket and sit with Brother Withrow and the boys.  Normally, you have to be older than 70 years of age to sit on this bench of distinction.  But I told them that “I am a man of constant sorrows” and I just needed some good male companionship while the women shopped.  They simply said, “I reckon you do”, gave me a nod of permission and a seat on the porch.

Chillin' with the Boys

Sweet Home Alabama

In telling the story of the Civil Rights Movement people commonly begin with what happened in 1955.  It was then that Rosa Parks, after a long day at work, took a seat on a Montgomery bus and was ordered by the driver to move to the back of the bus and give up her seat to a white male patron.  Rosa Parks said no.  In quiet strength and determination she refused to move and immediately was arrested for her act of defiance.  Her arrest sparked a boycott of the city buses and propelled Martin Luther King into action as the leader of an organized protest movement. At the time, King was the young pastor of Dexter Avenue Baptist Church, located just a few hundred yards away from the state capitol. What happened in Montgomery would then sound a siren all across the south.

Today we visited some of the key sites in Montgomery.  We toured the Rosa Parks Museum and Library, a fascinating interactive center located at the site where she was arrested a half a century earlier.

WWU students at the Rosa Parks Museum

From there it was on to the church.

In front of Dexter Baptist Church

And for the rest of the afternoon we walked through the Alabama state capitol.  The structure was built in 1851 and is a site of great historical significance.  It was here that Jefferson Davis was inaugurated as the president of the Confederacy in 1861.  It was here that Governor George Wallace announced to the world that segregation would be a permanent institution in Alabama.  It was here that those courageous men and women finished their epic march from Selma in 1965. And it was here that  Tammy and Kristin managed to hold court in the old Supreme Court chambers.

Tammy and Kristin ruling from the bench

I should tell you that after a day in Montgomery, hearing the story of Rosa Parks, the ladies of WWU are starting to feel empowered.  Unlike Mrs. Parks, they are not so much worried about where they sit in the van; it’s just that I can’t keep them in the van.  “Oh, look, over there.  There’s a Marshalls.”  “Oh, and hey, they have a T.J. Maxx.  Let’s go there.”  “I need to get an umbrella.”  “I heard they have some cute outfits on sale.”  It’s no use trying to argue that there is only so much space on our van to transport goods back home.  They know the history of women’s suffrage.  They have the votes.  They start organizing and protesting and singing “we shall overcome.”

Sunday in the South

Sleep
Sleep tonight
And may your dreams
Be realized
If the thunder cloud
Passes rain
So let it rain
Rain down on me

U2, “MLK”

Bono’s soulful serenade to King was an appropriate theme song for Day Two, not only because it’s been raining since we arrived, but also because we visited the birth home of Martin Luther King as well as the place where his body was laid to rest.

We started the day by attending a service at Ebenezer Baptist Church, the congregation that both King and his father pastored.  The church was celebrating its 123rd anniversary. The guest speaker was Rev. Joseph Lowery, a lion of the Civil Rights Movement who recently delivered the benediction at Barak Obama’s inauguration.  You may remember Lowery’s prayer for the country:

“Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around when yellow will be mellow when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right. That all those who do justice and love mercy say Amen.”

Lowery, together with King, founded the Southern Christian Leadership Conference.  After the service, the students stood in line to shake his hand and we took a group picture.  A little while later, Rev. Lowery collapsed and they took him to a hospital.  He is expected to be released later today.

WWU Students at Ebeneezer Baptist

After the service, we toured the King Historical Center. The museum tells the story of King’s life as well as the struggle for desegregation.  One room features the mule-cart that carried King’s casket through the streets of Atlanta.  From there we toured the home where King was born and raised.   The home is a block away from the church and during the time when the King family lived there, Auburn Street was the center of a thriving black community, both commercial and residential.

After touring the historic district we went to Mary Mac’s Tea Room for a late lunch.  Upon entering into the parking lot behind the restaurant, a man said to me, “ten dollars to park here”.  I gave him the money and pulled in, only to discover that after I parked the van, he immediately went on break and headed over to his office across the street, a pub with a flashing beer sign.   He got me.  Ah well…the opportunistic huckster just proves what Twain said, that “all you need in this life is ignorance and confidence and success is sure.”  Mr. Lowery would have been proud of me.  During the morning sermon, he addressed the problem of poverty and the need for a redistribution of wealth.  And here we were a few hours later and I had already found a way to make a contribution.

The lunch was spectacular.  Mary Macs has a menu offering the best of the south, including cajun-style mudbugs, or fried crawdads (I couldn’t convince all the ladies that they tasted like chicken).  We had lunch with Lonnie King and afterwards spent a few hours talking to him about the Civil Rights Movement.  Lonnie King (no relation to MLK) was a close friend of Martin and helped spearhead the student demonstrations in Atlanta during the early 60s.  He called MLK and asked him to participate in the student sit-ins which eventually got MLK arrested and got the Kennedy brothers involved in securing King’s release from jail.  These organized protests eventually led to the desegregation of numerous public places in the Atlanta area.

Lonnie King spoke with our students about the past struggle for freedom, equality and justice and encouraged them to use their education and opportunities to make the world a better place.

WWU students with Lonnie King at Mary Macs

Now it’s on to Montgomery!

Georgia on My Mind

We pulled out of campus in the dark at 6 am.  Early rumors  had me worried that our ladies were packing for the Oregon Trail instead of the Civil Rights Trail, but these worries were largely unfounded.  We somehow found room for everyone’s stuff.

We should have made a Hudson’s Bay Start and camped the first night on the other side of senior lake because each of us seems to have forgotten something we intended to bring.  One student forgot her shoes (extra ones thankfully).  Another traveler forgot her umbrella and two energy drinks.  And one student overslept her alarm and left campus without her cell phone.  She is going through some serious withdrawals, instinctively putting her hand to her ear and talking to herself, and feeling phantom vibrations from the phone she didn’t bring!

We traveled due east to St. Louis, where the famous Dred Scott case was argued in The Old Courthouse.  From there, we headed across the Martin Luther King Bridge and made our way into Illinois.  If our Garmin would not have pointed us south when we arrived in Mount Vernon, our hostess at Denny’s would have sufficed: “I got a table for eleven of you’uns right over here.”

We had one scary moment along the way when we were looking to eat lunch at a Chick-fil-A.  Our GPS led us to a cafe court in a Nashville mall.  That was a mistake.  Soon, Chick-fil-A gave way to Chicks-B-Gone.  Can you imagine how difficult it is to get  a group of freedom riders back into the van after being released into the wild of a suburban mall? It was challenging, but with our code of “no shopper left behind”, we found the missing persons hunting for bargains in one of the department stores.

Back on the road again, we finished our five-hour playlist of Motown’s Greatest Hits (Smokey, Diana, Stevie, The Temptations) and listened to a podcast story of how various pop culture icons supported the Civil Rights Movement.   When, at last, the flatland of the prairie  gave way to the rolling hills of Tennessee and Georgia, the soul train finally arrived in Atlanta.  We finished our long day of travel with a savory taste of Italy.

We Shall the Overcome: Following the Civil Rights Trail

Fifty years ago, in the fall of 1959, a curious man made a memorable journey.  John Howard Griffin, a white journalist and native Texan, darkened his skin with the help of a dermatologist and traveled throughout the American south to experience segregation firsthand.  Committed to racial equality, Griffin was interested to know, what is it like to be in someone else’s skin?  What is it like to live as a black man?  To belong to a minority group?  What are the challenges faced in finding a job, an apartment, a restaurant that will serve you or simply a kindly gesture? Griffin’s six-week trip took him to Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama and Georgia.  Two years later, his diary reflections were published as a book, Black Like Me, which became an instant success and an international bestseller.

On the 50th anniversary of Griffin’s trip, William Woods University is commemorating the occasion through a journey of our own.  Students enrolled in Woods Around the World are traveling the Civil Rights Trail, a courageous path that changed the moral landscape of America.  We will visit important cities (Atlanta, Montgomery, Selma, Birmingham and Memphis) and tour significant sites (museums and churches).  We will interview activists who, inspired by the dream of Martin Luther King, have devoted their lives to the well-being of people of all colors.

Since the start of the semester, we have studied the Civil Rights Movement through films and readings as well as personal interviews.  We have focused attention on the social realities of American life, the value of diversity, and the cultivation of empathy and respect as indispensable virtues for being human and living in community with others.  We are also noting the important contributions of African-American churches in the long struggle for civil rights and the cause of social justice.