Dr. King's Murder in Memphis

Dr. King was standing on the balcony
behind Jim and me when he was killed

On April 4, 1968, (50 years ago today) Dr. Martin Luther King was fatally shot by an assassin while he stood on the second story balcony of the Lorraine Motel.  Dr. King was in Memphis in solidarity with sanitation workers who were protesting unsafe working conditions and unfair wages.  

Because these workers made less than $1/day, they could ill afford missing their paychecks during a strike.  But, after two men were crushed by a malfunctioning garbage truck, they went out.  Ten thousand tons of garbage piled up as they protested.  On their first march, they were attacked by police.  At their second march, hundreds were arrested, and a 16-year old boy – Larry Payne – was shot and killed.  Martin Luther King joined them for their third march, where they carried signs simply proclaiming “I Am A Man.”

Many pled with Dr. King not to go to Memphis.  He was in the throes of planning a huge Poor People’s Campaign March on Washington.  (After the earlier march on Washington - where Dr. King gave his "I Have a Dream" speech - and action re: racial equality had resulted, he broadened his human rights agenda to include economic equality and an end to poverty.  The Poor People’s March was to be a main vehicle.) 

His friends also urged him not to go to Memphis because of threats against his life.  But, King felt compelled to go to show his support for the garbage workers.  He said, “Whenever you are engaged in work that serves humanity, it has dignity.  For the person who picks up our garbage, in the final analysis, is as significant as the physician. … All labor has worth.”  (MLK, March 18, 1968)

So, on April 3, he arrived in Memphis.  That evening, a rally was held at Mason Temple.  Dr. King had not planned to go.  At the last minute, he was telephoned at the motel and asked to come, as an overflow crowd was at the Temple hoping to hear King speak. He went – and it was there that he gave his “I Have Been to the Mountaintop” speech.  If you read that speech now, it appears to foretell his impending death.

The next day at the motel, he continued planning the Poor People’s campaign.  That evening, he and his companions stepped out of room 306 to go to dinner.  He leaned over the balcony railing, and asked musician Ben Branch to play his favorite hymn “Precious Lord” at that evening’s meeting.  His last words were: “Please play it pretty.”  

At 6:01 p.m., a single bullet fired from across the street hit him in the neck. He died an hour later.  He was not yet 40 years old.

Dr. King lies shot on the floor
The others are pointing to the gunman's location

Room 306 has been preserved
as it was the day Dr. King died

Today, the Lorraine Motel is home to the National Civil Rights Museum, which was America’s first civil rights museum.  Room 306 – where King spent his last hours, remains as it was on the day he died, down to the unmade bed where he took an afternoon nap, and cigarette stubs left in the ashtray. 

The museum has been built around that room – and continues across the street to include the boarding house from which the bullet was fired.

Hands down, the Lorraine Motel was Jim and my favorite museum.  While the others we visited told gripping personal stories, most focused on the 1950s and 1960s. This one covered 400 years of history from  pre-Revolutionary times onward - including the Middle Passage slave ships, the promise of Reconstruction, the backlash of Jim Crow laws, all the way to today’s Black Lives Matter.  Jim especially liked that the exhibits were packed with facts.  These were some that made me stop and gasp:

• In 1760, one male slave could be purchased for 6 ounces of gold, or the equivalent of 2 muskets, 5 bolts of cotton cloth, 20 pounds of seashells, or 40 pounds of gunpowder.  This was what “the marketplace” determined was the cost of someone’s life!

• Approximately one-fourth of all human “cargo” died on the voyage across the Atlantic.  However, ship captains held insurance to cover the cost of these lost “goods,” so they were paid either way.

• Slavery in America lasted for 250 years, which equates to 13 generations!  I had never thought of it in terms of generations of mothers, fathers, and kids who were bought and sold.

• The “value” of enslaved people to their “owners” at the beginning of the Civil War is estimated to be $3 billion --- more than the value of all railroads, banks and manufacturing combined!

• During Reconstruction, more than 1400 African Americans held elective office in the South.  After Jim Crow laws were passed, one hundred years went by before there were again that many elected Black officials.

• The sheer number of lynchings that occurred in a thirty-year span, including three in Duluth, Minnesota. Here’s the map:

A red dot represents a person lynched (1900-1930)

Another exhibit that drew me in concerned school desegregation.  I’ll mention here just one girl named Ruby Bridges.  She was the first very brave Black child to enroll and integrate a New Orleans public school.  She spent the entire year as the only child in her class because white parents refused to let their children attend class with her. She also wasn't allowed to play on the playground.  Ruby was 6 years old! 

Rockwell called this painting:
"The Problem We All Live With."

I had seen this Norman Rockwell painting before, but I didn’t know Ruby's story.

Last, I started this post saying that “an assassin” killed Dr. King.  A final exhibit questions whether James Earl Ray actually killed Dr. King – and/or whether he acted alone.  Church members at Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery first told us the King family absolutely believes that “others” were behind the killing, including possibly our own government.  The Lorraine Motel exhibit just hangs a few curiosities out there for you to consider, such as:

1. James Earl Ray was an unemployed, ex-con drifter, yet he fled the country with four different doctored identities. He eluded an extensive manhunt for 65 days, flying to five different countries before he was arrested.  If he acted alone, how could he have afforded this?  Leading up to the killing, his only employment on record earned him $664.34 as a dishwasher in Chicago.
2. Dr. A.D. King – Martin’s brother - struggled to understand his brother’s killing and pledged to explore it.  Before he could do so, his body was found drowned.  His family members believe he was murdered: “Absolutely, he was murdered. He was an excellent swimmer. There was no water in his lungs.  He had a bruised forehead. Rings around his neck. And he was in his underwear.”
3. James Earl Ray recanted his guilty plea, and insisted he did not fire the killing shot.  Dr. King's son went to see Ray in prison as he was dying, and left convinced that Ray was telling the truth.

I hadn’t realized that three separate investigations were opened after Ray's trial and conviction; two of the three concluded that James Earl Ray was the killer, and acted alone.  The third, paid for by the King family, found they had reasonable grounds to disbelieve these official findings.

Whether Dr. King was murdered by a solo actor or unnamed others, what is clear to me is that we lost someone who may have helped us get to a better place than we have - fifty years later.  From his “Mountaintop” speech envisioning a world where no one is judged by the color of her skin, to his stance against wars, to his personal stands against injustice, to his strict adherence to non-violence, to his final writings urging us to tackle poverty - all underscore the loss of this rare and visionary leader.

Today – April 4, 2018, at 6:01 p.m. Central Time, the exact time that King was shot – bells are supposed to toll nationwide to commemorate the 50^th anniversary of his death.  Whether or not you are in an area where the bells will ring out, I hope you will mark his passing with a moment’s observance of your own.  I know that I plan to.

Memphis Music - Blues and Soul

I’ll take a break from the civil rights era and turn to the music of Memphis. 

We arrived Memphis late the evening of March 4^th -  too late to head down to Beale Street.  So, on Monday night, after eating some fantastic ribs at the Central Market, we took off for Beale Street. 

We arrived early, about 5:30 - and it was eerily quiet.  I worried that nothing would even be open on Monday nights.  But, B.B. King’s was and enough others to make for an enjoyable - and very personal – listening experience.  

Jim and I – and one other couple - constituted the entire audience at the first place we tried.  The singer spoke directly to us, asking for requests and asking how we liked his sound.  Jim requested something by Robert Johnson, but he didn't really play one. 

Beale Street is lined with "notes"
of jazz and blues artists

The two at the other table kept requesting modern music, and as we were looking for more blues – we soon moseyed along. 

We went next to a very lively place - The Blues City Cafe – which had a band with a sound very close to Jerry Lee Lewis. 

I really enjoyed them.  However, my favorite aspect of the place was: the bartender! For one thing, he kept calling me ‘baby girl’.  “What do you want, baby girl?”  Now, it’s been a long time since I’ve been addressed as ‘baby girl,’ and it made me smile each time.  He looked exactly like Danny DeVito’s twin; he joked and kidded with everyone; and he waited on half the tables without writing down a single item.  Yet when anyone left, he tallied up their bill exactly.  If that wasn’t impressive enough, at one point the band played the song Safari – with an extended drum solo.  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that “Danny DeVito” had a pair of drum sticks and he was quietly placing metal serving trays upside down on the bar.  All of sudden the spotlight swings over, and he starts drumming!  He drums on the trays.  He drums on the bar and even the glass liquor bottles behind him.  Really, really fun!

Jim went to check out a few more places down the street, and found a small jazz club that he wanted me to see.  So, we said goodbye to “Danny” and left. 

The Blues Hall Juke Joint was really authentic – small, crowded, smoky, with fantastic musicians from New Orleans.  But there was nowhere to sit down.  After standing for a while, we turned to leave when a man in a striking brown suit and fedora hat asked why we were leaving.  We said that we loved the music, but there wasn’t anywhere to sit.  “I’ll take care of that,” he said.  He went up to one table, and asked about an empty chair there.  Then he dragged another chair over and asked some people to move aside for us to sit down.  Before we knew it, we were in the front of the house!  He then proceeded to get on stage and start singing.  He was the lead singer in the band!  He sang in an unbelievable falsetto - even nailing an Etta James song.  And, they satisfied Jim's request for a Robert Johnson song!

The man on the left found us our seats

We stayed there the rest of the night – dancing at times, buying their album - and just swaying to the music. 

Stax Music Studio – Soulsville USA

The next morning, we went to Stax Music Museum. 

Stax is no longer a functioning studio, but at one time it was the epicenter of Southern Soul.  This museum tells the story of Stax and is packed with artifacts and information about its artists and how “soul music” came into being. 

The term “Southern Soul” was first used in the 1950s, and applied to a style of jazz that blended blues, gospel and country.  The quote I liked best at Stax: “Soul was born in the church and the cotton fields.”  The Stax Museum contrasted the sound of Mo-Town as being smooth, polished and aimed at a white audience, while Soul was grittier, rougher and aimed more at Blacks.  In the 1960s, soul records – such as Sam and Dave’s “Soul Man,” Isaac Hayes’ “Theme from Shaft,” and The Staple Singers “Respect Yourself” - were interpreted by many African Americans as anthems of Black pride.  And in Aretha Franklin’s hands, Otis Redding’s “R-E-S-P-E-C-T” also became a feminist anthem.  All I know is that I grew up listening to the music produced at Stax.

The story of Stax Studio was an interesting one.  It was started by two white siblings:  Jim Stewart and Eunice Axton.  The studio was located in the blue-collar African-American neighborhood of South Memphis, and became a little oasis of black and white artists working together.  It was a highly integrated, interracial company.  

“That’s the real (story) of what Stax was all about.  We were sitting in the middle of a highly segregated city, a highly hypocritical city, and we were in another world when we walked into that studio.”  - Jim Stewart, owner

Jim and Eunice bought a defunct movie theater and turned it into a record shop and recording studio.  The former theater seating area was converted into a sound studio, still retaining its sloping floor and old speakers covered with burlap.  Some say that this unpolished room gave the records some of its raw sound.  Called "Studio A" (there was no Studio B), this was the room where Otis Redding, Booker T and MGs, the Staple Singers, Isaac Hayes, Dick Gregory, and many others recorded.

I am choosing to highlight two of the artists covered at the museum: one I loved, one I had never heard of.

·      Sister Rosella Tharpe.  Born in 1914 to cotton pickers, she began playing guitar at age 4.  At age 24, she recorded four gospel songs that were instantly successful. She melded religious songs with rollicking guitar riffs.  It was unheard of, and alienated some conservative listeners while attracting secular audiences.  In 1944, she recorded “Strange Things Happening Every Day,” a traditional African-American spiritual on which she played electric guitar.  I understand it was the first time an electric guitar was used, and it is considered one of, if not the first, rock and roll songs.  She greatly influenced Elvis, Little Richard and Johnny Cash, among others.  I had never heard of her!  I did look her up later as I like learning about any woman who was a pioneer in her field --- in this case, rock and roll!  You can find her singing and playing on YouTube.  Check out: Up in the Air,  Down By the Riverside, or her other songs.   There's also a movie about her life story, but I haven't watched that yet. Within the last year, she was inducted in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

·     

Otis Redding – The other artist I’m highlighting has always been one of my favorite singer songwriters.  All of his records were produced by Stax Music.  He was “discovered” when he was hired to drive a group called Johnny Jenkins and the Pinetoppers to Memphis for an audition at Stax.  At the end of the session, Otis was allowed to record a couple of songs in the remaining studio time.  Jim Stewart signed him immediately and released his ballad: “These Arms of Mine” in 1962.  It became the first in a long line of hits, including “Try a Little Tenderness” and “Stay in School.”  Sadly, he was only 26 when he died in a plane crash near Madison, Wisconsin in December 1967.  He died three days after recording: “Sitting on the Dock of the Bay.” It was released after his death, and became the first postmortem album to top the charts and win a Grammy.  In fact, the whistling at the end was added after his death… to signify a song and a life unfinished. 

Redding had been the heart and soul of Stax.  Already on the verge of bankruptcy, the label soon discovered that an earlier deal signed by Stewart had unwittingly given away the rights to Otis’s entire song catalog to Atlantic Records.  Dick Gregory was released because they could not pay him, and his album subsequently went on to be a hit.  Isaac Hayes couldn’t be paid and he was released.  Only eight years after Otis’ death, in December 1975, Stax went out of business.

The location was boarded up and stood empty for a number of years, before it was razed in 1989 and became nothing more than “glass and grass.”  Then, civic and local leaders bought the site and rebuilt.  It is now the Stax Music Academy, as well as a museum.  Many of the kids studying music at the academy come from the poorest ZIP codes in the county. I love this final legacy of Stax…. it still showing a lot of “soul”!

We didn’t go to the other big two of the music scene in Memphis – neither Graceland nor Sun Records.  Sam Phillips, founder of Sun Records in Memphis, recorded B.B. King, Howlin’ Wolf, Ike Turner, Elvis Presley and many other Southern-born blues and rock ’n’ roll artists.  But, I did learn that there is a Blues Trail you can follow throughout many towns of Mississippi.  Next trip!  And, I'm definitely coming back to Memphis for more of its music.

Birmingham -- Formerly known as "Bombingham"

Jim and I spent March 2^nd through the 4^th in Birmingham - Alabama's largest city.  We played in a regional bridge tournament while there, but did not fare well.  Due to a comedy of errors regarding the events we mistakenly entered, we found ourselves at times playing against “pros."  It makes me laugh to think that there are professional bridge players! - but there are.  They are expert players paid to help their partners gain master points.  

So, instead of talking about our successes at the bridge table (since we didn't have any), I’ll talk again about civil rights.  We began our civil rights experience at the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute, the largest museum we visited.  A brief introductory video described how the steel “boom town” of Birmingham grew on the backs of immigrant and black labor -- and also grew more and more racially segregated.  "Jim Crow" laws - passed in the 1920s -- segregated virtually every facet of life, including public restrooms, lunch counters, parks - even ambulances and hearses!   

Jim going first down the whites only side

When the film ends, the screen slides up, and you are invited to enter the museum through one of two routes – the whites only side or the colored side.  I was momentarily stymied; I didn’t want to choose.  

But after you enter you are able to go back and forth across the whites only and colored sides.  The exhibits showed the inequality of schools, jobs and living conditions in the 1950s, starting with the vintage water fountains labeled by race that you walk past to enter. Similarly, a side-by-side comparison of white and African-American classrooms of the time show the classroom for white students with a projector and glossy textbooks, while the classroom for black students was furnished with little more than beat-up wooden desks.

The institute is then organized by civil rights theme (i.e. freedom rides, voting rights, housing battles, etc.) and shows timelines and key actors relative to each.  So much information!  I've covered some of these at earlier stops.  Other areas of focus I decided to leave for the future. For example, we could go to Greensboro to honor the first lunch counter sit-in, or to Little Rock to remember school desegregation.  (Jim - I can envision several trips right now!)

Two exhibits I will cover, though, as they struck me as most relevant to Birmingham. The first was seeing the cell in which Dr. King was confined when he wrote his “Letter from Birmingham Jail” after being arrested on Good Friday,1963. This letter – written on the margins of a newspaper and sometimes on toilet paper - defended his sense of urgency and his non-violent, but confrontational tactics. 

Dr. King's Birmingham jailcell

Looking at the cell and imagining him imprisoned there, I couldn’t help but think about the last jail cell we saw like this – Nelson Mandela’s on Robben Island, South Africa.  I considered how similar apartheid and our segregation were.  And, I realized that both these men were sitting in similar cells on the very same night.  How similar the cells – and how similar these good men.  Nelson Mandela, of course, was imprisoned much, much longer.  But, Dr. King was arrested 29 times, including once for exceeding the speed limit. 

The second exhibit covered the series of bombings that occurred in Birmingham.  Fire-bombing was a frequent tactic of the KKK.  In fact, from the late 1940s to mid 60s, nearly fifty still unsolved, racially directed bombings occurred in or near Birmingham.  So many that some national newspapers began referring to Birmingham as "Bombingham."  

One of the unsolved bombings targeted Dr. Martin Luther King’s brother.  On May 11, 1963, A.D. King’s house was bombed. When a bomb later exploded at the home of a black lawyer, thousands poured into the streets intent on revenge. As the situation escalated, A. D. King climbed on top of a parked car and shouted to the angry mob: “My friends, we have had enough problems tonight. If you’re going to kill someone, then kill me.  Stand up for your rights, but with nonviolence.”  The situation was defused, but the bombings continued.  

The final bombing occurred at the 16^th Street Baptist Church.  The exhibit shows a large photo of the blown-out wall, juxtaposed with smiling photos of the four girls who died. A wall clock is stopped at 10:22 – the time the bomb exploded during Sunday School.  Why was this the last bombing?  One of the girl's mothers sued the KKK and won! - and the monetary judgment was large enough that the KKK did not use bombs again.

Jim and I were at the museum the morning of Friday, March 2nd.  We had adequate time, but hurried some as we had been informed the institute was closing at noon for a private event.  We found out later than John Lewis, Doug Jones and others were coming as an early stop of the Selma Jubilee weekend.  It only seemed appropriate: Remember Doug Jones is Alabama's newest Senator after an upset win against Roy Moore.... and he prosecuted two of the KKK perpetrators of the 1963 church bombing.  Wish we would have stuck around and gotten a picture!

As we left, we realized that building the Institute at this location was not accidental.  Some of the most infamous scenes in Birmingham happened in the surrounding blocks. The museum faces Kelly Ingram Park, where early in 1963, public safety commissioner Bull Connor blasted protesters – many of them children - with fire hoses and set dogs on them. And, it was built directly across the street from the 16th Street Baptist Church. We went there next.

Sixteenth Street Baptist Church:  Tragedy during Sunday School

Because the 16th Street Baptist Church has an active congregation and isn’t just a museum, the story of the bombing is housed in a small room in the basement.  

Again, here's the history: On Sunday, September 15, 1963, a bomb exploded, killing four young girls attending Sunday School and injuring more than 20 others at worship.  The names of the four girls were: Addie Mae Collins, Carole Robertson and Cynthia Wesley, all age 14 at the time of their deaths, and Denise McNair, who was 11.  

This replacement window was sent
to the church
from Wales after the bombing 

One of these girls loved Perry Mason.  Another - who was in 8^th grade - was wearing high heel shoes for the first time that morning.  A simple display case in the church basement contains those new shoes - along with the piece of brick that killed her taken from her skull.  I imagine I was attending Sunday School myself on that same day and time – only in Hawley, a world away. 

An enlargement of a vintage postcard shows the exterior rear steps under which the bundle of ten sticks of dynamite was hidden.  I was told at the church that the bomb blew out the face of Jesus from a full-length stain-glass window – and only his face.  Symbolic?  

No one was convicted in the bombing for 14 years.  The final bomber was convicted in 2002, some 39 years after the crime. 

I wandered the basement, primarily taking pictures of Carole Robertson. 

I felt the greatest connection to her.  You see - when I worked on the Superintendent’s team at the Minneapolis Public Schools in the 1990s, one of my team members was an aunt of Carole Robertson.  Her name was Katrina Reid and I’ll always remember the day I found out.  I asked her, “How do you live without bitterness, without hating all whites?” and she answered, “You can’t live with hate. You only die from hate.”

I remember her words as I walk, thinking how this bombing during Sunday School is only too similar to the 2017 mosque bombing in Bloomington MN minutes before morning prayers.  Thankfully, no one was hurt there, but it was a hate crime.  Hope we can all learn the lesson someday: “You can’t live with hate.  You only die from hate.”