First of all, I have to tell you about this app. The Alabama Civil Rights App. You can download it onto your smart phone and it will be your guide to the people, the places, and the events of the struggle for equality in Alabama. It is THE best free tourism app I have ever seen, and let me tell you I have tried out a lot of them. It's fast, easy to use, and has maps, timelines, photos, and biographies of the important people. I used it in Montgomery, Selma and Birmingham and it has been just great. I followed the app to the Alabama State Capital,
Click here to watch Dr. King!
I used my app to find the Rosa Parks Museum and Library, our first stop on the Alabama Civil Rights pilgrimage. We had already seen so many civil rights sites and interactive museums that I wondered if I would get burnt out, but it was incredibly well done. The guide offered us a chance to experience the children's exhibit, where a robot "Mr. Rivets" bus driver takes you through the history of slavery, the Civil War, Reconstruction and beyond, but we just went through the grownups exhibition, which was masterful. Using very clever video footage and a real bus, they showed us what it might have looked like in December 1955 when she refused to give up her seat. We learned all about the bus boycott, as well as the history of the amazing carpool system they set up and the white housewives who helped by driving their housekeepers and nannies back and forth to work for a year, despite the threatening phone calls they received from the Klan. The museum also did a great job talking about Martin Luther King's famous epiphany in his kitchen at midnight, where he heard a voice from deep down inside his soul, the voice of his Higher Power, telling him that he would never be alone, never be abandoned, that he could keep standing up and speaking out for truth, for justice, and God would be at his side forever. It's a moment that has inspired so many people over the years, and it was awesome to learn about it again in this great museum.
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| Matt with Rosa |
Following our friendly smartphone again, we walked up a few blocks to the Greyhound Bus station, where a new Freedom Riders memorial uses technology smashingly. In addition to the photos and words of the kids themselves, they have these QR codes set up, that you can scan with your phone and they will play you a narrative of the events that took place when the 21 kids stepped off the bus and were beaten mercilessly by a mob of more than 200, while the police did NOTHING. The oldest kid was 22, the same age as my daughter. Jim Zwerg, a young white kid, was beaten with his own suitcase, kicked in the head repeatedly, and probably would have died if a black man, who was just passing by, had not told the crowd to "stop beating that kid. If you want to beat someone, beat me." And they did. Zwerg was in the hospital unconscious for two days. He said he had seen the chains, the bats, the clubs, and a powerful presence had been with him, enabling him not to fight back, comforting him, helping him to pray that God would forgive the men who beat him.
I was sharing that story at breakfast the next day with our landlady at the B and B. I thought she would appreciate the God part of the story, since her walls were covered with religious plaques, quotations from the Psalms, crosses, a picture of George Washington praying at Valley Forge (the last time I saw that print was on the wall of the American Heritage School in Utah, if you remember that place), and in our room we had Bibles as well as a copy of the original meditation book My Utmost for His Highest. I told her the story of Jim Zwerg praying for his attackers. "Well," she said, "a lot of those stories about the attacks are exaggerated." I asked her what she meant. "Those fire hoses?" she went on, "Those were used just to cool people down. The marchers were hot, and they actually appreciated the hoses." Oh my Lord, I guess I just met someone from Alabama. I asked her if she had ever seen any of the photos or film clips of the marches and the violence. She said that she had not. I told her that if you actually look at the photos of German Shepherds attacking people, attacking children, the films of fire hoses turned full force onto people, you would not be able to deny the truth. I was sort of shaking and decided to change the subject. "Aren't these eggs special?" I asked, modifying a line from Deliverance. She was undeterred, and started telling us that all those reports of the abuses of slavery were really just about a few bad apples, and that many of the slave owners, probably the majority, had treated their slaves very well. I know my Dad would probably say, "This is real!" at a time like this. Like, this is authentic, even though it is unpleasant. Matt took over, and said well, whether they were treated well or not, the point is they were not considered to be human beings. She did agree with that, as did the tanned well-to-do couple from Rhode Island eating breakfast with us.
I really never believed that people were in that kind of denial. But it's true. They really don't know, and don't want to know, what happened. I related this story to Barry Marks, a Birmingham attorney who took us out for delicious barbecue this evening, and he said he had heard people say that many times. He gave me a book written by a friend of his about growing up white during the Civil Rights movement in Birmingham, and told me that placid denial was actually worse than active hate, because you could change the latter but not the former. I asked if he thought it would do any good to send her some video footage, and he said no, she would just have to try harder to stay in her little world of denial.
To cheer ourselves up, we turned to Morris Dees, the controversial lawyer who founded the Southern Poverty Law Center and is, in my opinion, pretty much responsible for the beautiful Civil Rights Memorial designed by Maya Lin. I have seen photos of it, of course, but nothing compared to the feeling when I put my hand in the water, running my fingers along the names that were like scars as the healing waters washed over the letters. You can't go to that memorial without touching it. It invites you to touch it, to feel the water flowing over your hand.
The Dexter Avenue Baptist Church was next on our list. We were guided around by one of the pastors, Reverend Smith from New York, who now lives down here. He sat us down in the very seats in the basement where they sat to organize the Montgomery Bus Boycott. He showed us the fancy mural (we weren't allowed to take any pictures) which included a really cool panel of Dr. King ascending into Heaven. He took us upstairs and gave us a little sermon about carrying on the work, teaching the next generation, and keeping the faith. He was pretty cool.
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| Rev. Smith talks to us |
Driving to Montgomery, we were on the lookout for the memorial to Viola Liuzzo, a mother of five from Detroit who had driven down here to help during the Selma-Montgomery march, shot by the Klan while on highway 80. Most of the markers are not really very well marked, and it was up to the app and our eagle eyes to find them. Again, with the wonders of modern technology, we listened to a short NPR piece about Viola's daughter. If you want to listen, follow the link below.
NPR interview with Sally Luizzo The worst thing about this story was the way J. Edgar Hoover smeared her. But what do I expect? It's like the woman at the B and B. Oh, a conservative white southerner minimizing the civil rights movement; what a surprise. Oh, J. Edgar Hoover being creepy; what a surprise!
In Selma, we walked across the Edmund Pettus Bridge. There really is a big difference between learning about something from afar and going to the place the events actually occurred, standing and walking in the footsteps of the people, honoring them and listening to their message in a new way. I feel such a new, personal affection for and connection with people like Ralph Abernathy and Fred Shuttlesworth, and of course Congressman John Lewis.
We ended up in Birmingham, for Alabama Civil Rights part two, starting tomorrow!
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